Page 28 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

why do you do that?

Talia

Look at me, acting like I own the place.

I found some minty-smelling body wash that made for a good makeshift bubble bath.

As I soak, I’m shoving Ben & Jerry’s into my face like there’s not going to be a tomorrow.

The eating is the only thing keeping me from throwing up with worry and anxiety.

I know that sounds weird, but whatever, it works.

But this investment situation is not good. Not good at all. These guys are criminals, thieves, threatening possible violence, and just plain taking advantage because nobody has ever stepped in to prevent them.

Poor Boris. He’s lost millions to them. He’s worked hard to build his career and he trusted these people.

Hell, I think he trusts everyone and anyone, if I’m being honest. He’s so good, and he does not deserve this.

I have to help him make this right. At the very least, I can protect his future earnings.

That’s something. But still, we can’t just let these guys intimidate and bully us.

We can’t just let them get away with it.

I’ll call Harold in the morning. I’ll tell him what happened and ask him to help me figure out what to do, who to call. There has be police or other authorities who can help in this kind of situation with a foreign government, right?

When I finish thinking and soaking and overindulging, I let out the water and slip out of the tub, wrapping a giant, soft towel around me. It smells like Boris. Masculine and woodsy and yum. It takes me straight back to that night at my apartment. The kissing and the touching we did.

Oh boy. I don’t need to go there. I don’t need to be thinking about the feel of his lips, or his hard body. Nope. Especially when I’m going to be sleeping in his apartment.

I peek my head out the door and, seeing no sign of him, I run across the hall into Boris’s room, quickly pulling a T-shirt and pajama bottoms from my hastily packed bag.

I use my finger to brush through my wet hair, then pull the Iain Cooper book from my bag, ready to forget break-ins and Russian investors, and all that stolen puck money for a moment.

I just want to recede into a fantasy world for a while.

I walk back out to the living room with the book, thinking maybe Boris will want me to read to him again, or maybe he will want the mental break, too.

I don’t expect to find him lying on the couch with LuLu spread out on his chest. I sit at his feet and reach out, petting my cat, who totally ignores me.

I can’t lie—my heart melts a little. LuLu does not just automatically like people, but she’s trusted Boris from day one.

“Traitor,” I say.

Boris grins. “I think she likes me.”

“I can see that.”

“How was your bath?” Boris asks as he strokes his big hand down LuLu’s back and then her tail in a long sweep.

“Not as relaxing as I’d hoped,” I answer. “But I brought that book from last time, Leaving Area 51? Want me to read from it again?”

Boris nods, so I start reading from where I left off before, on the night we kissed.

I read probably three chapters before I look up, and Boris is again looking at me in the most intimate way.

His eyes are dark, his expression one of hunger.

I meet his gaze, biting my bottom lip, not sure what to do or say.

“Should I keep reading?” There’s a hitch in my throat so it comes out like a husky whisper.

Boris keeps staring and it makes me tingly all over.

My abdomen is suddenly flooded with heavy want.

My nipples are tight buds beneath my thin T-shirt.

It makes me feel so awkward. So what do I do? I blurt out, “What are you staring at?”

“You,” he says, his voice low and thick. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Talia.”

I scoff, looking back down at my book as I feel my cheeks flush with heat. “That is not true.”

“I don’t know what you see in the mirror, but I see hair that looks like it was made of rare metal. And skin like cream. Perfect bow-shaped lips. And you’re so smart. Way too smart for me, probably.”

My breath is caught in my chest at the kind things he’s saying, but it’s that last statement that breaks my heart. “You’re not dumb, Boris. You have dyslexia and we can get someone to help you with it. But you’re not dumb. You’re kind. A gentleman. And pretty gorgeous AF, too.”

Boris sits up and LuLu lets out a noise of protest before hopping down to the floor.

But Boris barely notices my cat, because his eyes are on my lips.

On the hard pearls standing out against the fabric of my shirt.

There is so much longing in his gaze that I nearly combust. No one has ever looked at me this way.

Ever. I get it. I see it. This connection between us is real.

It’s a fast-moving train and there is nothing we can do to stop it.

Despite that, I need to get something off my chest. It’s probably not the right time but I feel compelled. I need him to know the truth.

“I slept with a client once. We had an affair for weeks. And then I found out he was married with kids. Like, happily married. And I was so devastated. Felt so stupid. I was dreadfully embarrassed, and Harold sent me here so that I wouldn’t be in the office, seeing Cameron all the time and making shit even more awkward for everyone. ”

“You did not know he was married before you started the affair?” Boris asks.

“No. He never wore a ring. And I was so inexperienced…dazzled by him. By the fact that someone like him would even find me remotely attractive.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Diminish yourself.”

The weight of his words makes me blush even deeper. “I guess… I mean, I’ve always been smart, you know? Intimidatingly so for some, probably. And a bit of an ugly duckling. I just—“

“Wow.”

“Wow, what?”

“Well, you’ve impressed me so much, Talia.

Since I met you, you were so assured of your skills, your capacity to think through complex financial and investment details.

The way you showed your resolve in the face of intimidation earlier tonight.

To call yourself an ugly duckling…it is not at all in line with the way I view you. ”

“Thank you,” is all I can think to say.

“I see why you are so worried about what this is between us,” Boris answers. “And there is something. I’m not imagining it, right?”

“You’re not,” I say. “But—“

“But you can’t do it again?”

“I’m sorry. I want you. I won’t lie to you, Boris.

But I also can’t go through that again. You’re a client and I’m committed to that.

And if we took it somewhere, I feel it would just make things icky and complicated, especially when it doesn’t work out.

I can’t take that humiliation again. Not when it comes to the job I love. ”

Boris looks like he wants to disagree, and part of me wants him to.

Part of me wants him to say it will work out, that this is real, that it won’t affect my job.

Part of me—a big part—wants him to take me and kiss me and tell me not to worry about those things.

That this is different. I know he’s not Cameron.

I feel so much more with Boris. The want is deeper.

The desire is stronger. I feel the pull and I know he does too.

And I know I’m pushing him away, but I want him to pull me back.

He doesn’t, though. He just nods and says, “I understand, Talia. I want you to be happy.” And then he lies down, turns to his side, and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” I say quietly, feeling short of breath and damn near ready to cry. I stand and tiptoe into his bedroom, crawling into his bed that surrounds me in his delicious scent.

A scent that keeps me awake and longing for most of the night.