Excerpt:
Molly watched from a stool at the small bar as he pulled out a crystal decanter filled with clear liquid and what looked like little yellow cakes or cookies on a worn silver tray.
"So what is this?" Molly couldn't help asking, wondering if it was alcohol in the decanter.
Ilia grinned at her, that smile that melted her insides every time. Damn, he was fine.
"Where I come from it is rude not to offer refreshments to your guests," Ilia explained.
"We just came from a restaurant," Molly reminded him as he filled two small glasses with the contents of the decanter. The quiet splash was the only sound in the room. "Remember? The prime ribs? We ate half a cow between us."
"Yes, I remember." Ilia placed a glass before her and a small plate with two of the yellow cookies or whatever-they-were on it. "You had no dessert."
"I usually try to skip dessert."
That stopped him. His dark eyes met hers. "Why?"
"Carbs?" Molly snorted at him. "Why do you think?"
Slowly he shook his head. "I honestly don't know. I think you are a beautiful woman, Molly. I hope it isn't some concern about your appearance because you are perfect now."
Either he didn't get her sarcasm or he was just that blunt. Molly suspected it was the latter. And she kind of liked that.
"I don't understand the need of everyone to be thin and sickly in appearance," Ilia said before gulping down the contents of his glass. "Women are meant to be soft, rounded."
"You like that, huh?"
"I do."
There was nothing Ilia wouldn't discuss. And he was so damned honest that it was hard to know what to say. Molly firmly believed that about ninety-five percent of all conversation was empty bullshit unless it was with someone you knew well and cared about. Then, that only cut it in half. In a new relationship, and that's where this was going, it was all bullshit at first.
Usually. Ilia was a whole different story.
Molly picked up her glass to see if she could tell what was in it. One sniff told her that it was definitely alcohol.
"Vodka," Ilia answered her unspoken question. "It is lemon vodka. It compliments the tea cakes."
"Ah." Molly set the glass down and picked up one of the cakes, munching on the edge of it. It was pretty damned good. "Did you make these?"
Ilia nodded. "My sister does a much better job than I do. But they are…adequate."
Adequate, hell. Molly put the first one away in record time and picked up the second. Martha Stewart had nothing on this dude.
He bakes too. How about that?
"So is this why you don't mind a full figured gal?" Molly teased him. "You make this stuff and feed it to them to make them that way?"
Ilia laughed at that, a rich, deep sound that had a sinister quality to it. It had the hair standing up on the back of her neck and her panties getting wetter all at the same time. The dude sounded like Dracula, looked like a movie star and had manners that would make Gramma Ruby proud if she didn't think he was a demon.
Molly could tell those manners weren't an act. Yet, she didn't believe for a minute that he was a "really nice guy" either. No, beneath the surface there was more to Ilia. A lot more.
It was the strangest date she'd ever been on.
She wondered what he'd be like in bed.
Molly wanted him bad. Probably because he wasn't trying to get her in bed. She wasn't used to that.
Shit. She shouldn't just go to bed with him on the first date.
"Won't you try the vodka?" Ilia's voice broke into her thoughts. "They are better together."
"I'd better not." Molly's inhibitions were already starting to lose this battle. She was ready to jump the man now. She didn't need to be throwing alcohol on top of it all. "I have to work tomorrow."
"There is not enough there to inebriate you, Molly," Ilia pointed out. "The purpose of drinking alcohol isn't always to get drunk."
"I don't handle it well."
Ilia nodded and reached for one of the cakes on the silver tray at the same time she did. When their fingers met, an electric charge surged through Molly's body. She looked up into his eyes and she was pretty sure she wasn't imagining the desire she saw mirrored in them.
Gently, Ilia took her hand in his and urged her off the stool. Pulling her around the bar, he guided her to stand in the circle of his arms. Ilia didn't pull her against his body, his hold was light. But the heat coming off him was incredible. The delicious smell of him pierced Molly's senses and made her want to burrow into him.
Ilia's nose lifted like he smelled something too. Her?
Molly looked up at him, gazed at that sexy mouth.
"If you kiss me, Molly," Ilia warned, "I can't promise that I will be able to stop at that. I might just demand your absolute surrender here and now."
Molly shuddered at that. Absolute surrender. Damn.
Ilia's arms tightened around her at her body's reaction. They felt like bands of steel and she got the feeling that he'd already decided that they were doing it. Excitement raced through her body like an out of control freight train.
Molly was accustomed to men who just tried to jive her to get into her panties. She could tell this man didn't just want a fuck for the night. The dude was serious. Whatever he wanted from her, he was dead serious about it. It scared her a little.
It thrilled her a lot more.
Well, Molly would deal with his wants as they came. Right now, she'd settle for that fuck.
Let's get it on, Batman.
