Page 12 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“Doing my best. See you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Safe flight. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hang up.

My heated skin feels suddenly cold, and I shiver. Just when I thought I could be someone else for an hour, the real world had to barge in and remind me who I really am. Shy cartoonists who hide out in their bedrooms don’t get to join the Mile High Club. Except we aren’t in a plane, but whatever, close enough.

Aleks’s stare is still hot and insistent. Knowing I can’t delay the moment any longer, I slip my phone into my pocket and turn to him.

“Am I the treat?” he muses innocently.

“I… sorry, what?”

He smiles. It’s effortless—smooth and cocky and so fucking perfect that I want to scream about how unfair it is for someone to have it all. “Am I the ‘sweet treat’ you’re waiting in line for?”

I’ve never wanted the ground to open up so badly before. Or spontaneous combustion. That would be fine, too.

Seeing as how both of those are off the table, I give him a frantic, cringey laugh. “Um, I think I should wash my hands. You’re right: they are sticky.”

“Bathroom’s right behind you.”

“Thanks.”

I turn and walk at a very calm, very measured, not-at-all-hysterical pace straight for the tall beige door behind me.

As soon as I’m inside, I move right for the sink and grip the cool porcelain sides. “Jesus Christ, Liv!” I hiss to myself. “Get a fucking grip!”

I look up at my reflection in the mirror. There’s so much color on my cheeks that it actually looks like I’m wearing blush.

“It’s not like you’re going to see him again,” I whisper to my mirror self. “He’s just a handsome stranger looking to kill some time and you… well, you’re the girl who plays it safe.”

Living is for the brave. I hear the words as though Dad is right here with me, saying them to my face.

I turn on the water and wash my hands properly. Then I splash some of the cold water onto my face. Once I’ve dried myself off, I feel a little calmer.

“Come on, Liv. You can do this.”

I take one more breath and slip back out into the lounge. Aleks is still sitting on the same position on the sofa, erection still going strong.

I keep my gaze above the belt, as hard as that is—no pun intended—while I round the table and sit down next to him on the sofa. My choice of seat is a little awkward, though. Too far, as if I’m scared to get close.

Who knows? Maybe I am.

“Sorry about that,” I mumble when he doesn’t break the silence. “It was my mom. My sister told her about the flight being delayed and she just wanted to check on me.”

“You have a close family?”

“Very,” I confirm. “Moving to New York was the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my life.”

He cocks his head to the side as his gaze bores into mine. It’s hard for me to maintain eye contact when everything about this man is turning me on in ways I didn’t know were possible.

“Why did you?”

“I… I guess I was trying to be brave,” I admit.

“Why do you say that like you didn’t succeed?”

I raise my eyebrows. He’s perceptive. Which makes me even more uncomfortable with the fact that I’m sitting next to him soaking through my underwear.

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