Page 38 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
“It really is beautiful here, though. Did you track my phone again?” she asks, not sounding in the least bit bothered as she touches the gloss against her lips, and I wonder if it tastes like strawberries.
“Perhaps,” I answer elusively.
She rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I’ve been toying with the idea of going for a swim. I haven’t been in the ocean in ages. Will you swim with me?”
“In my suit?” I chuckle.
“I was hoping for fewer layers.” She bites her lip, and it sends a wild thrill of desire bolting straight to my cock.
The waiter sets another cocktail in front of her, and she takes several long sips, then licks her lips.
She giggles again. “I don’t have my bikini, either. We could swim naked and cause a big scene.” She gestures across the crowd of dancing people.
“How many of those have you had?” I ask, realizing that she might be a little drunk. Why else would she be this playful with me?
“A girl never tells.” She winks at me. “But seriously, it’s hot—and we should swim.”
“We can swim at home.”
“I don’t want to go home yet, it’s boring at home. No one talks to me there and I’m all alone,” she huffs, pouting out her bottom lip.
She’s definitely drunk. It’s amusing, but I don’t like the idea of her being drunk in front of these men. I’d rather take her home where it’s safe.
Anya perks up in her seat, sitting straight, her brows shooting up.
“I want ice cream,” she declares, as though it’s the best idea in the entire world. I laugh, shaking my head.
“Alright. Then ice cream you shall have.” Standing up, I take this as my moment to coax her out of here without too much of a fight. She jumps up too, a little unsteady, and takes my hand. I lead her through the bar, her body pressed close to mine as we weave between people. Every now and then, I hear her giggle, or she stumbles and grips tight onto my shirt.
When we’re past the crowds, I pull her to my side and wrap my arm around her waist, walking her to the car.
“I think I can guess how many cocktails you had.”
“Oh, shush, what are you—the fun police?” she waves her hand through the air in front of my face.
The top is still off the Corvette, so I lift her in my arms and place her in the seat without opening the door. She finds this hilarious and gets a proper fit of the giggles.
Climbing in next to her, I have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t like old times. This isn’t us on a night out, laughing together, having fun.
But she looks so beautiful, so carefree, and so sun-kissed—it’s stirring so many emotions inside me.
While I’m driving, she leans over and puts her head on my shoulder.
It catches me off guard, but I end up wrapping my arm around her anyway.
“Are you okay, kitten?” I ask, glancing at her.
“I’m wonderful. How are you?” she asks.
“Fine. I’m fine,” I say tightly, trying to ignore how incredible she feels against me.
At home, she forgets she wanted ice cream, but she’s still hell-bent on going for a swim.
“Oh my goodness, who keeps making the floor move?” She giggles, holding onto my arm and pulling me towards the patio. “Let’s swim.”
“I am not swimming now, Anya.”
“You said you would,” she teases me. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”
