Page 175 of Wicked Proposal
“Clearly, you’ve never tried getting between Nikita and her midnight snacks.”
“You’re making it sound likeI’dbecome the snack if I did.”
“Yes.” He turns to me, heat burning through his gaze. “Which would be a problem. I’m not in the habit of sharing my food.”
His rough tone turns my legs to jelly. “Are you calling me a snack, Mr. Lozhkin?”
For a second, hunger flashes in his eyes. That gray curtain melts into a haze—a brand of desire I’m only too familiar with.
He’s gonna kiss me, isn’t he?
But then, at the last second, something else takes over his face.
It’s like watching a gust of wind snuff out a candle. His jaw flexes, his dimple disappears, and the heat in his gaze dims to a forgotten ember.
With perfect timing, the car rolls to a stop. “We’re going to be late,” Yulian says, fixing his cufflinks. “Let’s?—”
“Did I do something?”
He turns to me. For a moment, surprise flickers on his impassive mask of steel. “Do something?”
“To upset you.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “You keep doing this—thisthingwhere we’re fine, we’re talking, we’re joking around, and then suddenly…” The nerves are eating me alive as I speak, tearing chunks off my thoughts, but I force myself to put them into words nonetheless. “Suddenly, we’re not.”
There—another flash ofsomething.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Mia.”
“Then what’s going on?” My tone turns pleading. I’ve never been good at turning myself into a salt statue, not like Yulian is. “Is it about Niki?—?”
All of a sudden, Yulian’s hand cups my face. He tilts it up, forcing me to look into his eyes—to bare myself to him.
I have no idea what he sees there. But whatever it is, it softens the ice in his features.
“This charity gala is very important,” he says. “To the company, and to me.”
“To you?”
“Mm.” His touch is scalding, sending sparks of heat between my legs with every stroke of his fingertips on my chin. “Tonight will determine a great deal of things. It may very well lead to… changes.”
“Changes,” I echo.
“Yes.” There’s a wistful note in his voice, one I can’t quite place. “For better or worse.”
My heart is pounding now. If he doesn’t kiss me within the next five seconds, it might actually explode. Which wouldn’t be very good for his Maybach’s sleek leather interiors, now, would it?
So really, he should just get on with it.
I close my eyes. My lashes flutter, my fingers dig into the leather of the backseat. I can feel thethump-thump-thumpin my chest growing louder, deafening?—
HOOONK!
—and then it nearlydoesexplode.
“Get a move on, lovebirds!” Maksim hollers from the driver’s seat. “Or else all the food will be gone.”
I can’t think of anything I want less than food right now. My stomach’s so full of knots, I could sail right out to sea.
Predictably, Yulian pulls away. I mourn him immediately—his warmth, his touch.
