33. Chapter 33 #2
In his gaze, there was longing and a stark vulnerability. Did he know his expression betrayed the turmoil of emotions swirling within him? Was he seeing the mirror-image in mine?
A rush of warmth flooded my senses. The touch of his skin against mine jolted me. Our eyes met, and in that moment, there were only the two of us. The rest of the world faded away. All that had happened felt insignificant as we moved together in perfect harmony.
I was proud that I remembered the steps and that each one I took to follow him was like a silent conversation between us. His eyes never left mine, and the intensity made me want to look away, but I forced myself not to.
To not allow myself to run from the way he made me feel.
It was as if he was staring deep into my soul, committing this to his memory as I was.
I wasn’t alone, not with him. In the flickering firelight, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips shone.
Steven Tyler continued to croon about staying in the moment forever.
He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. “I want to kiss you, Isabella. But I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to stop.”
He moved his lips across my cheek, and my entire body went haywire. My pulse felt rapid and uneven while my stomach decided butterflies and eagles would not cut it, so cue the free-falling sensation of the roller coaster ride all over again.
Soft and sweet, he kissed me. Our bodies swayed still. Then he teased my bottom lip by pulling it between his teeth, and a volcanic fire erupted inside me. I moaned, surrendering to him. I couldn’t wait another minute.
I needed to taste him on my tongue. Lifting, I thrust my fingers roughly through his hair, hoping he would get the hint. All I got was another teasing lick of his tongue across my lower lip as he pulled back.
Without warning, a strangled groan erupted from his throat.
“Fuck,” he huffed.
And then finally his tongue slid into my mouth. I met him head on, each of us forgetting our promise as our lips and tongues clashed. The world narrowed to warmth and breath. His hands cupped my face as he tilted my head back.
The kiss deepened, and I melted into the hard lines of his body. Tiny sparks of pleasure shot through me from the top of my head to my clit.
And then—Call from The Counselor.
Siri’s cheerful, intrusive tone rang through the room like a referee blowing a whistle. We froze. For one suspended second, neither of us moved. Then Pasha broke first. He pulled back just enough to look at me, disbelief flickering across his face before it cracked entirely.
A low laugh escaped him, growing into full, helpless amusement as he dropped his forehead against mine.
“I swear it’s an omen.”
The laughter spilled out of him, rich and unrestrained.
I stood there blinking up at him, lips swollen, heart racing, trying to decide if the universe was mocking me or flat out trying to sabotage me.
First Sebastian. Now Marcel. At this point, I was convinced there was a group chat somewhere titled Operation Keep Them Frustrated.
I exhaled slowly, equal parts mortified and amused. The irony was almost poetic. Every time we stopped pretending and leaned into something real, the outside world barged in.
Pasha kissed the corner of my mouth one last time, softer now. “You should answer it,” he breathed, not letting me go.
“And if I don’t,” I challenged.
“I suppose, since Marcel is reasonable. He’ll leave a message. Unlike your brother. Go on.”
He gave me a gentle shove. “Siri, answer,” I said, walking toward the phone to disconnect it and take the call more privately.
“Hey,” Marcel said. “It’s not too late, is it?”
“No, we were just getting ready to eat. It’s fine.” The answer came automatically, though my eyes drifted toward Pasha. “It’s late for you. What’s up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. I looped Nik in like you asked. He locked himself in his office for hours. He’s got something. Solid information.”
My pulse, which had still been riding the high of dancing and almost-kissing, slowed abruptly. Solid information.
Across the room, Pasha popped the champagne. The cork ricocheted off the ceiling and landed somewhere near the couch. He grinned, triumphant, completely unaware of the shift in my world.
He poured the golden liquid into one glass. It caught the firelight. Trepidation crept in, cool and steady. Would he go the distance with me on this?
I slipped out onto the patio, sliding the screen closed behind me. The ocean air wrapped around me, cooler than I expected.
“If you decide to pursue this,” Marcel continued, “we’ll need to put it to a vote.”
“Full family?” I asked.
“I’m vetoing that straight up. For a whole host of reasons. Primarily that it becomes a fiasco and everyone will insist on being there. That defeats the purpose and risks setting Kinsley back. Tori, I’m less concerned about.”
“So partial family vote.” I stared out at the dark horizon. “Majority rules?”
“That’s how we’ve always done it. And you know you have my backing. Nik’s too.”
I turned, looking through the glass. Inside, Pasha adjusted the plates, completely at ease.
He fixed his sleeves and then poured a second glass.
Mental math ticked through my head. Marcel.
Nik. Me. If I secured Pasha’s vote, that would be four.
Even if Alek and Ivan pushed back, we’d still carry it.
Sebastian would say no. That I already knew.
“I’ll bring it up,” I said. “Tonight, maybe, if the opportunity presents itself. If not, tomorrow for sure.”
“Might be wise. Your brother—”
“Needs to get a life. For real, Marcel.”
A quiet chuckle filtered through the line. “Talk it over with Pasha. Give the kid a moment to think about it. Just remember—no matter what you decide, you can change your mind.”
The tightness in my chest loosened just a fraction.
“Thank you,” I breathed.
“Trust your instincts,” he said. “They’ve carried you this far.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I will.”
The line went dead. For a moment, I stayed there, phone hanging loosely in my hand. The ocean rolled in steady waves below. The fire crackled behind the glass. Inside, Pasha lifted his head. He cocked his head to the side, reading me. Everything felt balanced on a knife’s edge.
The attraction to Pasha. The family. Number fourteen.
With a shake of my head, I pushed everything aside.
I was going to enjoy dinner with Pasha. Number fourteen wasn’t going anywhere.
If Nik’s intel was accurate, then that was just an open door.
One I was determined to walk through, no matter the cost. I stepped back inside, more determined than ever to let go for the night.
Pasha was standing near my chair and gestured me over. Always the perfect gentleman, it melted my heart. I took my seat, soaking in everything. The mental checklist of ‘must haves’ in a man got another item added to the list.
He must be a gentleman.
The simple act of holding a chair or door for women, while a lost art for some, it wasn’t for Pasha. Nor any of the men at home, come to think of it. He took his seat opposite me, grabbed the two glasses of champagne, and handed me one.
“To a beautiful night, with an even more beautiful woman.”