Azelie pressed her lips together, debating whether she wanted to answer that question. He was a man filled with confidence. She felt she appeared weak beside him. She wasn’t weak. That was an illusion. Others took her quiet nature for weakness, not strength. She believed there was strength in silence. In getting others to talk while she listened—and remembered. She had an excellent memory. Too good. It was impossible for her to forget the smallest detail of the night her brother-in-law had murdered her family.
“Zelie?”
Again, his voice was velvet soft, but when he looked at her, there was the merest hint of disappointment in his eyes. She detested disappointing him. It made no sense that she seemed to need to please him.
“Yes, I have nightmares.”
“Often?”
She bit her lower lip and then forced herself to answer. “Yes.”
“Every night?” he pressed as he turned into the parking lot of the Waterfront Restaurant.
The Waterfront building was located at Pier 7. Renovated from an old longshoremen’s bar, the building dated back to 1894. It was very San Francisco with its old beams and wood.
The valet parking allowed Andrii to open the car door and help Azelie out. The restaurant had spectacular views of the bay, Bay Bridge, and Treasure Island. The atmosphere inside the restaurant was old, eclectic and comfortable. They were seated immediately at a table for two in a more secluded location with a stunning view of the water.
Andrii helped her out of the coat, although a part of her wanted to cling to it. The only thing that made giving up the warmth and comfort of the coat worth it was seeing the way his gaze drifted over her. The way his expression changed, softening the hard edges yet carving sensual lines deeper. The way his eyes heated with desire and what she identified as pride in her.
Andrii handed her beloved coat to the host as he held out her chair for her. She sat carefully. The dress was shorter than she had ever worn before, and when she sat, the tops of the garters showed. It looked sexy, but she wasn’t certain if she liked the way several men in the restaurant looked at her so openly. She wasn’t used to male attention.
Nothing escaped Andrii’s watchful gaze. He noticed her trembling hand as she picked up the menu. Immediately, he placed his hand over hers. “What is it?”
It took a moment to decide whether to answer honestly. He waited for her, not attempting to hurry her. “I’m not used to so many men looking at me the way they are.” The admission came out low and a little unsteady. Again, she maintained eye contact, waiting for his reaction.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Zelie. Men are going to look, and they’re bound to have reactions to the sight of your body. How could they not? It shouldn’t bother you. It’s natural. I’m pleased to be the man escorting you.”
She resisted the urge to pull at the hem of her dress, but she did look down at the plunging neckline to assure herself that her nipples weren’t on display.
As always, Andrii seemed to know what she was concerned about. “Your tits are gorgeous, Solnyshkuh. I love the curve of them and your dress frames them expertly. If there was a malfunction and one slipped out, I would have the pleasure of tucking it back in for you.”
His voice slid over her skin like the brush of velvet. Instantly, she was hyperaware of him, her body reacting to the suggestion of him physically touching her. Every nerve ending leapt to life. Her nipples hardened into twin peaks of desire, feeling hot, like twin flames. A knot of sheer lust formed in her stomach. Her sex fluttered. Clenched.
“You’re with me, Zelie,” he reminded her, his voice gentle. “Trust me to look after you. I am the one that asked you to wear the dress for me, and you did. It’s my pleasure and honor to protect you. You wore it because I asked you to, didn’t you? It isn’t your usual manner of dressing.”
Azelie pressed her lips together and nodded. “I did wear it for you,” she admitted. “I like pleasing you.”
“Does it give you pleasure to please me?” he asked.
A shiver of something far too close to desire went down her spine. It was a strange, intimate conversation to be having with a man—especially one she barely knew. On the other hand, she felt as if they were progressing toward something beyond what she may have imagined.
She nodded again, slower this time. Her mouth felt dry, and her lungs burned for air. Fortunately, the waiter returned, giving her a reprieve.
The Waterfront, located in Northern California, used fresh foods directly from farmer’s markets. The restaurant offered a wide selection of local seafood.
“I’d like to order for us,” Andrii said.
Her eyes met his above the menu. It would be interesting to see what he would order for her. Just the suggestion made her feel cared for. She loved seafood, but she was never decisive when it came to ordering. There were so many items that looked good. She didn’t want to go too expensive either. He’d provided her clothes, which cost enough already. Mainly, she wanted to be in his company.
“I’d like that,” she agreed. The waiter stood beside her, closer than she preferred, and she knew he could look straight down the plunging neckline of her dress.
Andrii reached across the table for her hand, giving her added reassurance. He clearly had studied the menu. “We’ll start with your crab cakes and oysters. We’ll both have the salad of young leaves. For the entrees, for my lady, the handmade seafood linguini, and I’ll have the halibut. For dessert we’ll share the strawberry shortcake and the peach and blackberry crisp. The lady will have the pisco punch and I’ll have an old-fashioned.”
Andrii handed the menus to the waiter, still holding on to her hand. One thumb ran over the back of her hand, brushing lightly. He adjusted his hold, so his thumb could slide over her inner wrist. She knew if he found her pulse, it would give away the secret of her accelerated heart rate.
“You will have to get used to men admiring the way you look, Solnyshkuh. I can’t take my eyes off you. I would expect that other men would look and lust after you.”
“What does Solnyshkuh mean?” She couldn’t quite get the pronunciation perfect.
He gave her one of his rare genuine smiles. “It is Russian for ‘little sun.’ A term of endearment in my homeland. I’m a citizen of this country now but lived there during my childhood and teenage years. I didn’t make the United States my home until a few years ago. I traveled quite a bit before deciding to settle here.”
She hugged that information to her. “And what is a pisco punch? I’ve never had one before and don’t have the slightest clue as to what is in it.”
“The drink is made with BarSol Pisco. It’s produced from the fermentation of one hundred percent Quebranta grapes.”
“So it’s a wine.”
His thumb slid along her inner wrist, keeping her all too aware of him.
“Yes, a wine. The drink is made with Lillet Rouge. That’s a blend of cabernet sauvignon and merlot grapes with lemon and orange brandies. It also has quinine and a botanical infusion.”
Her heart jumped. She wasn’t used to drinking alcohol. She didn’t want to get drunk on one drink and mess everything up.
“The drink also has lime and pineapple gum syrup. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it. We can get something else. You seemed up for an adventure, so why not try new drinks?”
His thumb continued those brushstrokes over her pounding pulse. She inclined her head, afraid she was going to burst into flames any moment. Electricity seemed to spark over her skin with each slide of his thumb.
“Before the waiter interrupted us, you were about to tell me if pleasing me gives you pleasure,” he reminded her, his gaze holding hers captive. “I think it’s an important question, and I would like an answer.”
She knew a nod wasn’t going to cut it. He wanted a verbal response. She had no idea if she was humiliating herself by telling him the truth, but she felt she needed to. It was the only way there was any chance of a future relationship. She honestly didn’t think she could hold Andrii’s attention for long, but already, she found herself falling under his spell.
“Yes.” The admission came out barely discernible. Color crept into her face. “I want to make you happy, and when I do the things you ask me, I can see that you’re happy.”
“Even when those things I ask are difficult for you?”
She thought that over carefully before answering. “It gives me more pleasure because it’s a hard decision, and when I overcome fear for you, that seems to bring you greater joy. That’s what I want for you.”
“Do you get the same pleasure from doing what other people in your life ask of you?”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Other people? I don’t have other people in my life. If you mean men, I don’t date.”
He looked satisfied at that statement. “Men such as Alan Billows. You’re what now? Twenty-two or three? You’ve known him going on at least seven years. Do you try to please him?”
Azelie did her best not to make a face. Andrii had admitted he knew Billows. She didn’t want him repeating anything she said to the man. “I would prefer not to talk about him,” she finally said.
“May I ask why?”
The pad of his thumb swept over the pulse on her inner wrist. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. They had lightened to that intense silver. He still had that soft, gentle tone, intimate and warm, but something in his eyes reminded her of a predator. That silver seemed to pierce through any veil she tried to hide behind. She feared every secret she had was exposed to him.
