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friend. Growing up, he was my mentor—a man who taught me far more than my own father. I trust him with my life.
    Everly exhales, her body trembling. I take her hand in mine, reveling in the contact. She’s just as soft as I remember, her skin just as satiny and delicate. “Let’s put away the pepper spray, shall we, before it goes off on its own.”
    She rewards me with a tremulous smile. I allow my thumb to pass over a knuckle, and her breath hitches. She leans forward slightly, mahogany waves spilling over her shoulders. Our eyes meet, and I’m helpless in this moment. The last time she was this close to me, I’d been shot.
    Now, I’m perfectly healthy and perfectly willing to take her to my bed. Because of her, I haven’t been with anyone in months. Months . The thought of using another as a replacement for her leaves my mouth as dry as ashes in a dead hearth.
    “Your friend,” she says, her lips inches from mine. Plump and pink.
    Lickable.
    I want to devour her, starting with that mouth.
    “He’s browsing.”
    She covers my hand with hers, but not to pull it away. Instead, she squeezes, and my dick gets hard. I close my eyes. This is no way to react to her still-present fear, but my body knows who’s touching it.
    “Have lunch with me on Friday.”
    My eyes pop open. “Pardon?”
    “Lunch. You and me, we’ll eat and talk about books and non-shooting things. We won’t mention bullets or hospitals or nightmares of seeing a friend covered in blood,” she says, her smile quivering at the corners.
    “You had nightmares?”
    She nods. “I didn’t think I could ever come back here again.”
    “Why did you?”
    A little shrug and she looks away. I turn her face back to mine with my free hand. Heat arcs between us, my thumb dusts her lower lip, and her mouth parts. I dip my finger in slightly, and her tongue touches the tip before she pulls away.
    A groan escapes before I can stop it. My sweet solnyshko. “Love, tell me why you came back.”
    “Because my friend, who was shot twice , came back. If you can be strong and brave, Roman, then so can I.” Her hand moves from mine, and she starts to dig around in her purse. “But I don’t want you to be as afraid as I am, so I bought you something.”
    There’s nothing I can say in this moment. I’m utterly gutted and transfixed by her, by her words. By her genuine concern.
    By her pronouncement. My friend.
    “You bought something for me?” I finally manage as her hand reappears, fingers clutching a medium-sized envelope.
    Worrying the side of her lip, she says, “Self-defense, gun safety, training, and permit classes—I can’t remember the exact name for it, but the gift certificate covers it all. They teach everything.”
    “I can’t—”
    “Please take it. We can take the classes together.”
    It nearly kills me to hear that sort of invitation from her. Petrov’s revenge has marked her. It has affected Everly in a way that I would have never allowed, given the choice. Only that bloody bastard took it away from me.
    “Or not,” she adds.
    “I will accompany you, so that we can learn together.”
    Beautiful eyes light up, but she’s still a bit wary. “You will?”
    He will pay for that wariness, even without a contract. “I promise.” I draw an X over my heart, where it beats for her and only her, then I take the envelope and tuck it into the side pocket of my trousers.
    I bring her hand to my lips, pressing upon it a kiss that I long to replicate in far more erotic areas. The side of her neck, the backs of her knees…her inner thighs as they part for me. As she digs her fingers into my shoulders and moans my name while I pleasure her.
    I slash the image from my mind, willing my traitorous body to ignore the surge of lust that threatens to overwhelm and break down every last bit of iron will I’ve erected.
    Of course, none of this can ever happen, no one can ever know the depths of feeling I have for her—physically or emotionally. Both