2. Kira
KIRA
My hands still shook as I sank onto Niko's couch and he handed me the glass of whiskey with the tiny glass ice cubes.
I had no idea how wealthy he was, but it made sense.
The Tatiana wasn't exactly a low-budget restaurant.
"You still look frightened," he said, sitting next to me.
He sat a bit closer than I thought was appropriate for a first date, but this didn't feel like a first date to me.
We'd been messaging so much, I felt like I'd known him for months.
I leaned into the sofa cushions and cupped my drink with both hands, forcing a smile.
But the smile turned to a half-grimace as I said, "I just really think we should've stayed there.
I mean, we were witnesses to a violent crime.
" A crime I knew my father would've wanted more information about.
I knew those men on that corner being shot at.
I just wasn't foolish enough to tell Niko about them.
Letting him in on what my father did for a living would only cause a lot of drama.
He probably wouldn't want anything to do with me after that.
"Believe me," he said, nudging my drink so I brought it to my lips to sip. "The police had plenty of witnesses. Your testimony would've just been white noise. Besides, our first date would've been entirely ruined. At least we've salvaged it. "
He smiled as I tipped the glass up higher and finished it.
I wasn't much of a drinker, and my body was primed for getting tipsy fast.
I hadn't eaten since breakfast in an effort to avoid feeling bloated at dinner.
The burn of the drink sat warmly on my tongue and slid into my belly with a comfortable heat that made my cheeks feel rosy.
"So, you said you're a businessman?" I asked him, glancing around his home. There wasn't any indication of what sort of business he was in but every indication of how much money he made.
The rug looked like the Persian rug from my mother's private study, and the Perigold Howard Miller grandfather clock was a perfect mate to one in my uncle's home in Boston.
I loved that old clock, but they never let me touch it when I was little—fingerprints ruined the varnish, they'd say.
"Yes, well I'm into different trades, but I don't want to talk about work." Niko took the glass from my hand and set it onto the coffee table, refilling it from the bottle which he'd brought in the living room when he served me the first one.
His glass sat untouched as he handed mine back to me, but I was too nervous to care.
Going to a man's home on the first date wasn't my style. Moving slower was more my style, so everything that transpired had thrown me for a loop.
I wasn't uneasy, per se, but I was intimidated.
A man Niko's age had plenty of experience, and while I wasn't a virgin, I knew I wasn't in his league.
And my gut told me he was eager to get me into bed, judging by the way he looked at me now.
"Let's talk about that cooking class you talked about. Did you end up signing up for it?" He was so charming, finding a way to lure me out of my anxious tension into the moment with him.
I'd told him just last week about a cooking class at the cafe I loved to frequent with a good friend.
He remembered, and that made me feel like I was important to him.
"Yes," I said, grinning, then I dived into the explanation about the class and how it was being taught by semi-famous chef Eric Ripert right here in New York City's Le Bernardin. Not many people knew why he was famous or why the restaurant was so classy, but Niko's response shocked me.
"Ripert… Wasn't he best friends with Anthony Bourdain?" He lifted an eyebrow as I grinned at him and found myself leaning in, splaying my hand on his chest.
"Oh my gosh, I can't believe you know that. No one I've talked to even knows who Eric Ripert is…" I was in awe over this man. The more things I unveiled about myself, the more I found we had in common.
"Oh, yeah, I watched Bourdain's show. I'm pretty sure Ripert was on it a time or two.
You have good taste, and if he's half as good as Anthony, you're in good hands for learning.
" I sipped my second drink as Niko kept talking.
"But I'm more interested in what amazing foods you'll be able to cook for me when you're done with the class. "
"Oh, you want me to cook for you?" I asked him, grinning.
"Well, yeah. You love cooking, right? And you said you like reading. I bet I have a few cookbooks around here you could read and—"
"Hey," I said as he started to get up, and I pulled him back down onto the couch, snickering. "You said you were cooking for me."
Niko's eyes sparkled as he turned to face me fully and rested his hand on my hip. "I could cook something up if you want, but I'd rather stay right here next to you, Kira. You're intoxicating."
I downed the rest of my drink and felt the delicious swirl of the alcohol in my head.
"This whiskey is intoxicating, and if I don't eat something, I need to be done drinking.
" Setting the glass on the coffee table, I felt my chest brush over his arm, and to my utter shock, he turned his hand upward, grazing the underside of my breast.
"I could think of a few things to do," he mumbled as I sat back, feeling flushed, "while the alcohol burns itself off."
The sparkle had been replaced by a thick haze of desire in his eyes.
A current ran through my chest and down into my belly as my bottom lip worked its way between my teeth. It wasn't that I didn't want Niko.
I Did.
I just didn't think it would move this fast.
I figured we'd have dinner tonight, text a bit more for a few days or weeks, and then maybe on our second date if things went the right way, there would be progress toward this moment.
"Niko," I mewled, feeling his hand slide back down my side to rest on my hip. I sat at an awkward angle, half-facing him with one leg crossed over the other so our knees touched.
"We don't have to… you know…." His eyes narrowed, and I got the sense he was feeling rejected. It was the last thing I wanted. He was incredible. Men my age were immature and had no vision for their lives yet. At twenty-one, the only thing they thought about was getting drunk and partying.
But Niko was twenty years older than me, which had almost put me off from being interested in him until I found out he read the classics like me and that his romantic history involved being cheated on and having his heart broken.
I was the breath of fresh air to a man who felt past his prime, with hope of a family dwindling.
Of course he'd want to move faster, and I was selfish if I couldn't move at his pace.
"No, it's okay," I said cautiously. "I want to."
God, I did want to, but convincing my nerves to line up with the fire in my body was another thing entirely.
My core ached the instant he looked at me tonight, but red flags went up in my brain about how fast this was.
I just had to ignore them, because I wanted a second date with him, and a third.
I didn’t want to stop talking to him because our dating speed didn't match.
"You do?" he growled, leaning in to bury his face in my neck. His stubble scratched down my neck and I groaned.
"Yes," I told him, this time more emphatically. "I do…" And as I said it, my better judgment started to shut up so I could enjoy it. That and the buzz of alcohol now fully kicking in.
Niko tore into me like an animal, pawing greedily at my side as he pulled me under him and laid me down on the couch cushions.
My heart hammered against my ribs as he settled over me.
I'd never been with anyone who moved with confidence like this. There was no hesitation or doubt in his touch.
His hands slid up my sides, bunching the fabric of my dress as he explored the curve of my waist.
"God, I've been dreaming about this," he said against my ear. "It's been torture waiting so long for you." His words made me shudder.
To think he'd been fantasizing about this for the past few weeks only made me more aroused.
A man who wanted me so badly that he couldn’t wait to get me was so hot.
My previous clumsy encounters with much younger guys were nothing like this.
Niko was a man who clearly knew what he wanted, and I worried I wouldn't measure up to what he expected.
The ball of nerves in my gut pulsed, reminding me how much older and more experienced he was.
He kissed my neck again, and his stubble scraped against my sensitive skin, making me shiver. I tilted my head to give him better access and let a soft moan escape.
"You've fantasized about me?" I asked, letting my eyes shut.
"Every day, Kira." Niko's words were hot against my skin, his hands hotter still as he slid them up my back. His fingers found the zipper and tugged, parting the fabric and exposing my back to the chill in the air.
It made me shudder and arch into him as his fingers found my bare skin.
I stiffened and I couldn't help it.
I felt so nervous.
I wanted him, but I got in my own head, telling myself it'd be no good for him, that he wouldn't like me.
A million excuses popped into my head about why he shouldn't take my dress off, and every single one of them was proof that a man his age deserved someone with way more experience than me.
"Relax for me," he whispered, brushing my ear with his lips. "I've got you. Just let it happen."
He pushed the sleeves of my red dress off my shoulders.
I lifted my arms to help, and the fabric slid down, bunching at my waist.
Cool air hit my bare breasts, and my nipples tightened instantly.
I wanted to cover myself, but the hungry look in his eyes stopped me—so did his hand that pushed my arms aside as his eyes drank me in.
"Look at you," he growled in a lusty tone. "God, your tits are perfect." He cupped one breast, thumb stroking over the peak, then lowered his head and sucked it into his mouth.
I gasped and arched upward, my fingers threading into his hair as the heat of his tongue sent sparks straight between my legs.
He switched sides, giving the other the same attention while his free hand slid down my thigh and pushed my dress higher.