by Alisha Rai
Her shirt rose until he was brushing kisses against her bare stomach. They were light, almost platonic. She closed her eyes to bring the touch into even greater focus. She felt every centimeter of his skin where it touched hers, from the rough skin at the corner of his lips to the slight rasp of his stubbled chin against her lower abdomen.
His teeth surprised her when they scraped against her; his tongue immediately followed, soothing the flesh. Sasha lifted his head. “The other day…you wanted sex.”
She tightened his fingers in his hair, the bald words sitting between them. “Yes.”
His next kiss was a bit more aggressive, openmouthed. “Have you ever had sex before, Maira?”
Her cheeks heated. “Technically…no.”
“Hmm.”
That noise worried her. She could practically see every possible objection he had running through his mind. She was too young, too naive, too…oh hell no. Not when they’d come this far. “It’s not like I’m waiting to get married or anything. I just haven’t had the time.” Or the inclination, she added silently, until she met Sasha.
“Don’t make excuses,” he said gruffly. “It’s not something to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed.” She just didn’t want anything else to get in their way.
“I’ll want more than sex. I’ll want more than one night. We’ll have to have dinner and go to movies and stuff.”
“That’s…what we do now.”
“Yeah but now, we’re going to do it right.”
How would she cope? “I can manage,” she said dryly.
He placed one last kiss against her belly and lowered her shirt before standing. “Good.”
The loud jingling of keys right outside the small closet forestalled anything she might say. Sasha pulled her away from the door and stumbled back a step with her in his arms as the door swung open, narrowly missing slamming into her back. The bright fluorescent light swept inside, blinding her for an instant.
By the time she could see again, Sasha was already herding her past the frowning maintenance man. Blood rushed to her cheeks. She didn’t recognize the man. Please God, let him not recognize her. She’d left her white coat off, and other than the hospital name, there were no identifying marks on her scrubs.
“Crazy kids. How many times do I have to tell you people, these closets aren’t for foolin’ around?”
Sasha squeezed her elbow. Did he think she was going to say something? She was beyond mortified.
“Sorry about that. Won’t happen again.” Sasha gave the other man an easy smile.
The maintenance man shot them both a nasty look as he reached inside the closet and withdrew a broom. “At least you two are dressed. You’d think these closets say clothing optional on them.” He stalked away, still grumbling.
Maira studied the closed door and then looked back to Sasha, who was watching her very carefully. “Ew.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I was just wondering how many naked people have been pressed against that door, where I was. There must be so many germs. Ew.”
His laugh was deep. She glanced around, hoping no one had heard him. “Shh.”
He only laughed harder. She grabbed his arm and tried to tug him to the stairs where they could talk in some degree of privacy. He moved so he could twine his fingers through hers. Before she knew it, they were holding hands and he was grinning as they walked into the stairwell. “I guess public displays of affection aren’t in our future, huh?”
It was much more difficult to discuss sexual stuff when she wasn’t under a fog of emotional distress or in the darkness of a closet. Nonetheless, she met his eyes squarely. She’d started this, and by God, this was what she wanted. “You can try to woo me. And if it’s someplace that seems fairly sanitary, I might agree.” There. She sounded a little stiff, but with practice, she’d unbend so her flirtatious comments didn’t sound quite so robotic.
Despite her nervousness, it seemed to have some effect on Sasha. Something flared in his dark gaze as they stopped on the first floor landing. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“Yup.”
“I—I have to meet with someone quickly about a patient at five.”
“Great. I’ll come by your place at seven.”
Come by. “What are we doing?”
He leaned in close and brushed a kiss against her lips. It was there and gone before she could even think to enjoy it, and then he was backing away. “Starting our relationship. Don’t be late for our first date, okay? This time, we’re going to do it right.”
Chapter Six
Sasha’d never been this nervous, not even when he’d been fourteen and Sally Johnson read the valentine he’d painstakingly labored over. He shut his car off in Maira’s driveway and inhaled, breathing in the scent of pasta and meatballs.
If the past week of sleepless nights had taught him anything, it was that his need for Maira wasn’t just a fleeting fancy.
He dug the piece of paper out of his pocket. Writing things down had always been his way of clearing his brain. When he couldn’t quite articulate something verbally, he could get around it on paper. Lists were a particular favorite of his. Though this particular list had stalled on the first item until he’d seen Maira today.
1. Get Maira to forgive you.
So it wasn’t brilliant, and he should probably be ashamed that he hadn’t been able to think of anything more for so very long. He smiled. As soon as he had crossed this one off, it was like the juices had really started to flow. The light bulb had shot on, the rest of his plan had coalesced.
2. Woo her (properly. i.e. dinner, movies (girl movies, aka nothing you would normally pick unless you were trying to impress a girl which you ARE trying to do, aka nothing with blood) & all related stuff.)
Okay, perfect, he’d start on that tonight. No problems.
3. No Sex.
3. Non-vaginal sex?
3. Only oral sex.
3. Above the waist.
3. NO SEX.
Yeaaaaah. Number three was gonna be hard. Pun intended.
But it was the critical one. He tapped the star he’d made next to it. Kissing and touching were fine, but sex was not the way to win his Maira. His Maira was not sexually aggressive, not normally.
His Maira was sweet and innocent. A virgin, for crying out loud.
Down, boy.
The rush of primitive satisfaction that coursed through him every time he thought of that was undeniable. He was an official, card-carrying caveman.
Even if she hadn’t been inexperienced, he had to do things right. His plan was solid, it was foolproof. After a few months of dating, maybe then they could reevaluate the physical aspect of their relationship. He tossed the list into his glove compartment and closed it with a decisive click. He could handle this.
As he gathered up the bags of takeout and various other romantic weapons in the backseat, he experienced a flash of doubt. Maybe he should have talked this over with someone. Leyla, perhaps.
Nah. What could possibly go wrong? No one could accuse him of being hotheaded or impulsive here, which he knew were his major faults. Who would be able to find fault with an overabundance of caution?
He jogged up the stairs of the front porch and shifted the bulging brown bags he carried to free a hand to ring the doorbell. The strains of Für Elise ringing through the house made him smile, as usual. The whimsical doorbell and this little sunshine-colored gingerbread house always amused him. It was a side of the proper Maira that he bet not many people got a chance to see.
The door opened and his grin got even wider. This wasn’t the femme fatale who had come to his house a few days ago, or the professional he’d caught earlier in the day. Yup, this was the subtly sexy Maira he knew. Her hair was caught up in a loose ponytail, a softer, fussier version of her usual look. She’d changed out of the scrubs and into a pair of slim dark jeans and—holy crap, yes—the light pink button-down. Her fingers f
iddled with the top pearl button, her slight nerves evident despite the clear message she’d sent with the outfit.
He met her eyes and smiled. “Did you wear that for me?”
Her chin lifted in a subtle challenge. “Maybe.” She stood aside to let him in and surveyed him and his similar jeans and cotton shirt. “I was hoping I wouldn’t be underdressed.”
If anything, you’re overdressed— No. Sasha slammed that thought down as fast as it popped up. Number three. Number three. “Nah. This place doesn’t care what you wear.”
“What’s in the bag?”
He wanted to kiss her. No, he needed to kiss her. Calm down. “Dinner.” He cleared his throat. “That is, if you don’t mind eating here?” Fuck. He should have asked first. Maybe she had wanted to go out. Maira usually preferred staying in, and since she was such a creature of habit, he figured her home would be a nice, safe place to start shifting the boundaries of their relationship.
He couldn’t mistake the relief in her eyes or the smile she gave him. “No, that’s perfect. Especially if the cooking’s already done. Let me take something.”
He moved the bags out of her reach and slipped past her to walk toward her kitchen. “I got it.”
Her house was familiar to him, though they tended to hang out more at his place, which was bigger and better suited to entertaining. From the pictures on the walls to the uncluttered tables to the precisely arranged pots hanging above her island, everything was perfectly in its own place. As someone who was military-neat in his own life, a reaction of growing up around the perpetually cluttered Mason, he appreciated Maira’s tidiness.
Despite her cleanliness, the place didn’t lack warmth. Far from it. Her walls were a simple off white, her furnishings similarly neutral, but the bright yellow of the outside of her house was echoed by bursts of sunshine within. The yellow gingham curtains in the living room, the colorful magnets on the fridge, the bowl of daisies on the kitchen table…
Daisies. Table.
His table.
Maira spread out over his wooden breakfast table, her breasts overflowing that black…
“Did you cook?”
Her words jolted him out of his trance. Holy shit, males really could make anything into something sexual. He cleared his throat and placed the bags on her island. “Ah. I could lie and say I did. Would that impress you?”
“Oh, yes, the famous Karimi aversion to all culinary chores.”
He forced an equally light tone. “Sweetheart, stick with me. I’ll show you how easy it is to get through life without ever even boiling an egg.” He walked over to where he knew she kept her plates.
“I can set the table.”
“Nope.”
“No?”
He turned with the dishes in hand. “No. Why don’t you go put on some music? I can handle this.”
She hesitated, but left the room.
He worked quickly, setting the table in record time, helped by the fact he knew where most of her stuff was. That was all he had time to do before he heard the low strains of a saxophone fill the air. Two seconds later, her feet were padding back down the hallway.
Panic. He wasn’t done. This had to be perfect.
He took a few long strides to the open dining room entrance and blocked her. “Wait.”
“Wait?”
“I’m not ready for you yet. Why don’t you…” What else, what else could she do…what the hell did women do on a legitimate date? He thought of previous dates. “Freshen up?”
She arched a brow. “What exactly do I need to freshen up?”
Nothing, damn it. She looked as fresh as the daisies on her table. “Um, your nose.”
Her hand flew to her face. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It needs to be freshened?”
Her lips twitched, and her hand fell away. “Okay, Sash. I’m going to go powder—”
Yes! Powder their nose. That was what women did.
“—my nose. I’ll be back in…ten minutes?”
He thought of what he still needed to do. “That should work.”
Once she had left, he wheeled around and strode back into the kitchen. Luckily, getting the food out didn’t take long, was just a matter of opening foil pans and dumping the still-steaming food on the plates. Knowing a person made it easier to order for them, that was for sure. At Salvatore’s, Maira only ever ordered the spaghetti.
He dropped the pans into the now-empty bag, and then withdrew a bottle of wine and the taper candles and candleholder he’d made an emergency run for before picking up the food.
Damn it, though, he hadn’t thought about lighting them. He made an instinctive pat at his pockets, and then rolled his eyes. He didn’t smoke. Why would he be carrying matches?
Where did Maira keep her matches? His gaze lit on the stove. Good enough.
He snapped a burner on, lit both candles, and jammed them into the holder. He must have pressed a little too hard, because one of them snapped in two.
Whatever. Sasha shrugged, took out the broken base, and slid in the now-shortened taper. Candlelight was candlelight, right?
In the dining room, he placed the wine bottle between their two place settings, arranged the candles, and then stood back. He frowned, shoved their seats closer together. That was better.
He shut off the light in the kitchen, since it opened into the dining room, and then turned the dimmer switch on the wall. Unfortunately, the light didn’t just dim. It blinked off.
He scowled and fiddled with the switch. Damn old wires.
A soft sound alerted him to Maira’s presence in the doorway. The dining room had one small window, allowing in a shaft of golden light. That, along with the candlelight, cast a glow around her. The light flickered against her cheeks, softening the strong curves of her face.
She was Maira, and yet…not.
Something shifted inside of him, and he found himself standing in front of her without even realizing how he got there. With a slightly unsteady hand, he reached up to smooth a curl away from her face. Looking up at him, her luminous eyes sucked him right in. “It’s lovely, Sasha.”
It took him a moment to understand she was talking about his attempts at ambiance. “I wanted to show you how sorry I was.”
Her lips curved. “I believed you.”
“But I wanted to show you.” He hadn’t realized how much he needed her forgiveness until he spent a week sleepless over the thought of her hating him.
“Thank you. I still believe you.”
Sasha took a step back, and then another. He cleared his throat and extended his hand. “Let’s eat.”
Her hand fit into his perfectly. He led her to her chair and held it out for her. She murmured her thanks and smiled when she looked down at the plate. “How did you know I was in the mood for Salvatore’s?”
Because there wasn’t a time when she wasn’t in the mood for her favorite restaurant. “Lucky guess.”
He poured their wine, and then held up his glass. “To…” His mind blanked. What could he say that wouldn’t sound too strong or too weak?
Luckily, Maira came to his rescue. “To new adventures?” she asked softly.
Perfect. He gave her a relieved smile. “Yes.”
They tapped their glasses together and began eating. Silence rustled over the table, broken only by the clink of dinnerware and the sound of the jazz music she’d put on in the living room.
With any other person, he would have rushed to fill the quiet with small talk and witty repartee. Not with Maira. She was the only person he’d ever known who made silence palatable for him. The quiet made it easier to watch her. How had he not fallen for her when they’d met two years ago? Why hadn’t he sped up his pursuit of her when he’d started to realize how much she meant to him a few months ago?
He had no answers. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop noticing little things, like how her long, elegant fingers looked wrapped around a fork or how her pretty lips looked closing over the spaghetti.
His hand clenched around his own fork, and he laid it down in his plate to take a sip of much-needed wine. Suddenly, the silence seemed too intimate, and he tried to fill it. “So how were things at the hospital this week?”
She glanced up and sucked a strand of the pasta into her mouth. He stifled his groan. Polite, she waited to swallow before speaking. “Good. Oh! Ms. Applebaum was upgraded to stable too.”
He smiled. “I heard, yes. That’s great. I talked to her husband before I peeked in on the kids today.”
“Did the man get down on his knees and kiss your feet? Because when I talked to him, that was his game plan,” she teased.
He gave a sheepish smile. “He was really nice.” The teacher’s husband had been almost uncomfortably effusive. Sasha didn’t take it too personally. Hell, if his wife had barely pulled through multiple gunshot wounds, he would be thanking God, the cops, the milkman and just about everyone else to boot.
“So Reid is the only one left in ICU now.”
That piece of shit. “Good.”
She was silent for a minute. “I’m not supposed to agree with you on that.”
He smiled. “But you do.”
Maira gave him a chiding look. He loved that look. It made her look like a teacher. A hot teacher. “You took a vow, same as me, to protect the public. It shouldn’t matter what the person’s done.”
“And that sounds great on paper. If we were robots, sure, no problem, we could hold our emotions in check from everything we do.”
“It’s not about emotions, it’s about our oath,” she argued. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have burnt rubber to get to a shooting if it had been a couple of drug dealers instead of a bunch of kids.”
“I won’t deny I would have gotten there quickly. But would I have disregarded all protocol and ran full tilt toward it? Probably not.” Sasha shook his head. “I snapped when I realized what was happening, Maira. When I think back, I know that. I don’t need to get chewed out by the brass to tell me what I did was not a good thing.”
“You got into trouble? I didn’t hear anything about that!”
He snorted. “Trust me, I got off light, and the captain is so thrilled with all of this good press he’s not about to castigate me in front of the media. But it’s only because my actions led to a fairly decent ending. Nobody gets that it was pure luck that my aim was good enough to bring Reid down and keep him down.”