The space between us has thinned, I stand on my knees in front of him only inches away from touching noses. My breathing is shallow, shallower than it has ever been when I've been with any man.
"Carry on, it can be a distraction whilst I wait for my men to come back," he drops his hand to his leg. It nudges to the space between his legs where one of my knees stand. His rough fingers slide along the inside crease of my knee and pull, forcing me to fall. I put my hand on the gravel so I don't fall flat on his thigh; my back arches a little, making my dress slip up a little.
"Woah there, big guy. You don't want me falling on your huge thigh. I'm pretty sure it'd hurt the bullet wound you have, which by the way you aren't applying nearly enough pressure too," I sit between his legs, folding my legs beneath me and push his hand down. He winces a little. "If it hurts your doing a great job," I grin goofily.
"So, you think my thighs are big?" this man is the most self-centered thing there is.
"I tell you that whole speech and that's all you get from it? But yes, they are. I swear they're like if you stacked twenty subway baguette things together. which I actually have not tried before but I really really want to. Have you tried it?"
"Nope, is it good?" he asks as if I didn't tell him my answer.
"No silly, I just told you I've never tried it, you feelin' okay over there?" I frown.
"Da I'm all good," he nods in assurance.
"So you have your own men, eh?" I waggle my brows at him. "What do you do? Oh and you didn't answer my question last time about-about why you were being chased," I almost forgot the question halfway.
I see the SUV van come driving up behind me and I quickly say, "Are you a drug dealer?" Darn it, Devi. Shouldn't have been more direct about it.
I'm surprised when he replies, "Mmmh a little more than that," he whispers as one side of his lips curl upwards.
The men get out the car behind us and start shouting some more Russian. I realise I'm stuck in a verbal Russian crossfire. I wonder when they'll start playing Russian roulette.
"Vy, tupitsy, ostavili svoyego grebanogo bossa istekat' krov'yu na doroge. Naskol'ko ty glup?!" Grisha yells at his men.( You dumb fucks left your fucking boss bleeding on the road. How stupid are you?)
"Don't shout too much or tense up you're going to make it worse," I inform him mid argument and he nods at me softly.
"Grisha, nam ochen' zhal', no u menya byl bezuprechnyy plan, kotoryy dolzhen byl osvobodit' ital'yantsev i pozvolit' nam sokhranit' dobychu. my-" the man is interrupted. (Grisha we are so sorry but I had a flawless plan that was going to lose the Italians and allow us to keep the loot. we-)
"Sokhrani eto. Otvezi menya obratno v dom, i tam my pogovorim. Vyzovite i vracha," Grisha snaps.(Save it. Take me back to the house and we will talk there. Call the doctor too.)
He switches back to English. "Whilst you were on your fools errand, a doctor found me and helped me some. Make sure she gets back to her family safely and put some guards outside the University until she leaves," he hands out orders easier than subway baguettes.
"We're actually leaving now for ice-cream," I wish I could shut up.
"Tell them to follow her around for the day. If those people saw you, there's no telling what they will do to find you for information," he explains.
"Information? on what? I am so confused." Grisha's thumb rubs slow agonising circles on the crook of my knee. I don't think he realises.
"They don't know that," his eyes are stern as he hands out orders, his jaw flexes every time he moves a little.
Turning around slowly, I meet two grown men who are grinning. Well one of them are. The other looks like he's about to piss himself for leaving the boss behind on a job.
"Hi," anxiety unlocked.
I feel Grisha lean forward behind me, "So now you're quiet? shame, these two are the chatty ones," he whispers lowly, allowing his breath to tickle my exposed neck.
"Oh," my throat dies.
"This is Demyan," he points to the grinning one. "And this is Feliks," he points to the wuss. "They're my cousins."
""You work with your cousins? God that must be so annoying. Or fun if you have nice cousins, mine are all below the age of sixteen so I definitely wouldn't want to work with them. Knowing them they'd laugh at the patient for being in pain. Oh, and don't even get me started on one of my Aunties," I look around before lowering my voice, "I thought she was eight months pregnant and asked her if she had a name for the baby. Spoiler alert she wasn't pregnant," I slap my face still feeling the embarrassment lingering on my face.
"I one asked Grisha's mother if she was expecting twins or triplets, when she was three months pregnant with his little sister," Demyan slips out. I choke on a laugh. "I'm an empath so I sensed she was not happy," he flicks his imaginary blonde hair over his shoulder.
"Oh don't start with that empath shit right now," I laugh. "Your boss needs like a surgeon right now, I'm guessing your going to go to your own one, right? you just seem... sketchy. Anyways I don't think it hit any major organs since he's still talking and has a lot of awareness," I trail off.
"Damn boss, how much have you told her?" Feliks asks and he gets an eye roll from grisha.
After helping them get Grisha into the car and getting blood all over my robe, I turn to say goodbye to him.
"Hey big guy, you never answered my question," I ask inquisitively.
"Remind me again, what it was?" he stares right at me, fully immersed in our conversation.
"Why were you being chased and shot by those guys?" I hold his stare with just as much interest and flare.
His lips quirk up in the slightest. To the untrained eye it would be a straight line, but I see it, he's smiling. His eyes roam over my face skimming my lips before they meet my eyes again. One hand reaches out, his thumb brushes over my brow removing what I assume is blood. The simple movement, the simple touch is enough to transform the wild bees in my stomach to butterflies. The orange, black and white ones. "If I told you the reason, I wouldn't be able to let you out of my grasp."
