9. Nina #2
“Aren’t you?” I retort, my breath coming in quick bursts. Every molecule of air between us is charged, as if the air itself is waiting for something to happen. “You represent everything I hate.”
“Oh?” His thumb brushes against my cheek before he cups it fully. “And what’s that?”
“Temptation.” The word slips out before I can stop myself, heavy with meaning. In a rush of defiance and longing, I lift my head and slam my lips against his, fueled by all the frustration and attraction that’s been simmering since we first met.
It’s impulsive, instinctual, and so fucking stupid to kiss him. He weaves a hand through my hair and immediately takes control, delving his tongue inside my mouth to explore, to claim.
His kiss is like wildfire—a hungry, desperate thing.
Every nerve in my body comes alive as sensation threatens to overwhelm me.
I’m drowning in him,lost in the intoxicating depth of this moment.
I’ve never had a kiss like this, where I feel like something is being rewired in my brain, my body.
I’ve also never felt this amount of pleasure and bliss from the simple act of kissing.
It’s terrifying that he has this kind of power over me, to make me lose control, to forget about everything except him.
I break away, panting. “Do you have to be so good at this?”
“Kissing?” He laughs. “Yes, I do, especially if it keeps you coming back for more.”
“More?” I push against his chest, desperately needing to regain my footing after that kiss. “No, this was a onetime thing only.” I’m not even sure if I mean that, but regaining some control, some sort of boundary I can hide behind while my brain clears seems like the safest thing to do.
“Sure it was,” he says easily, popping to his feet, as if he doesn’t believe me.
“I mean it. We should forget this ever happened.”
He holds out a hand to help me up, but I bypass it and get to my feet by myself.
“I know you mean it,” he says. “But I can guarantee that I’ll never, ever forget the best kiss of my life. Even when I’m ninety, I still won’t forget it. ”
“I doubt your wife will appreciate you thinking about another woman at that age.”
“And what if you were my wife?”
“In your dreams.” I roll my eyes, not believing his words for a single second. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“No reason.”
“No reason, my ass.”
“You never did land a punch on me,” he taunts.
I punch him in the arm softly. “I did just now.”
“Only because I let you.”
“Or maybe you’re just not as good at self-defense as you think you are.” It’s a total lie, and we both know it. He could’ve stopped me anytime.
“I hope I am.” The amusement from just moments before fades.
“Why?” I ask, not sure what’s going on, why he’s reacting like this.
“Because of the target on my back by being a successful businessman.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words get stuck at the thought of someone trying to harm him. “Are people after you?”
“Always.”
Something tight squeezes in my chest at the thought of him having to look over his shoulder. “Anything recent?” I demand.
He glances away, and the tightness in my chest increases at his unspoken confirmation. Why didn’t I hear about this before now? How much danger is he in? And why is my focus only on him and not on my own safety?
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“You don’t have to pretend to care.”
Having a version of my own words thrown back at me is surprisingly sobering.
“I’m not pretending,” I whisper.
He must see the truth in my expression because his gaze softens, just a fraction, and he lets out a low sigh.
“You need some self-defense lessons,” he says.
“Am I in danger?”
“Probably not, but it’d be good for you to have some training.”
“And what? Are you offering to train me?”
“Yes.” He says it simply, as if he has all the time in the world when I know for a fact that he’s a workaholic. “Is that a problem?”
“I didn’t think you had time for me.”
“I’ll make time for you.” He grabs his water bottle and a small towel from the ground. “Do you want to join Zeki and me for dinner? I’m ordering Indian.”
“Fine.”
“Way to sound excited about that.”
“I’m not,” I say, just to mess with him. “But I also won’t say no to a free meal.”
I leave him to shower, and when I finish, I walk into the kitchen to the delightful scent of curry and rice. Zeki has his plate piled high with tandoori meats, rice, and curry.
“Why don’t you guys have a table?” Zeki asks, sitting on the floor. “Is the delivery delayed or something?”
“Or something,” Evren says, giving me a long look. “I don’t think Nina has found one she’s liked.”
“There’s nothing you like?” Zeki asks me. “Like in the entire world?”
“Not at the stores I’m shopping at.”
“And what stores are those?” he asks.
“Thrift stores,” I say, grinning when Zeki shudders. “Don’t look so grossed out.”
“I say this with love, but why the hell would you want to buy some used-up junk and put it in this home?”
Evren snaps at Zeki in Turkish and Zeki says, “It’s a fair question.”
“Is it?” I ask. “Because your privilege is showing.”
“I’m sorry,” Zeki says. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Nina’s talented,” Evren says. “And Stella would be lucky to have everything custom made by her.”
I glance at Evren, surprised at the sincerity in his voice. A part of me wondered if he really liked my designs or if he liked the idea that I could make him some easy money with the jacket. But the way he says it, like he actually admires my work, is shocking, to say the least.
“Do you need me to take you to another city to do your thrift-shopping thing?” Zeki asks. “Because we need a table here ASAP. ”
“If Nina needs to go to another city…” Evren glares at Zeki. “ I’ll be the one taking her.”
“No one will be taking me,” I cut in, “because I don’t need to go to another city. I’ll find something here, eventually.”
“Or,” Zeki says, “we could buy something new now while we wait for you to find what you like.”
The thing is, I don’t know what I want. I just know I want it to be a showstopper. Something more than just a boring wooden or glass one. Maybe what I want isn’t possible, because I don’t know how to do it. I have some skills, sure, but I’m not a furniture maker by any means.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly, lost in thought. “Maybe.”
“Or,” Evren says, “I could take you to an acquaintance of mine. He might be able to either make what you’re looking for or help you find it.”
There he goes again, making plans with me, as if he has time. It’s so out of character that I need to test him, to see if he really is serious or not. “Sure,” I say, “and Zeki can come along with us.”
Evren frowns at that and Zeki laughs and throws an arm around my shoulders. “See? I knew you liked me.”
“Whatever you say, lover boy.”