A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he pats the cushion beside him. “I had a burger and fries.”
I perch on the edge and let my eyes drift over his face. Most of the dark bruises have faded, and soon they will be all gone.
When my gaze locks with Georgi’s hazel one, my stomach flutters like it’s done every single day in this man’s presence.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how attractive he is.
“Simi’s asleep,” I mention just to make conversation. “She wanted to wait up for you, but I bribed her with a bedtime story.”
A warm smile forms on his face while he lets out a deep chuckle.
I tilt my head and stare at him, getting lost in how amazing he is.
Georgi doesn’t break eye contact, his breathing steady, and it feels as if something magical weaves through the air between us.
I have no idea how much time passes before he whispers, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Keeping my tone soft as well, I reply, “Just thinking about what an extraordinary person you are.”
“Yeah?”
He scoots a little down, half into a lying position, and kicks off his loafers before crossing his legs at the ankles and resting his feet on the coffee table.
I shift up and lean my shoulder against the back of the couch, so I’m facing Georgi, then pull my legs up and fold them beneath me.
When my knees lightly brush against the side of his thigh, tingles rush over my skin.
“It’s hard to believe how much my life has changed,” I admit.
Georgi pinches my nightgown between his index finger and thumb, and just like Simi, he rubs the fabric. “Are you starting to feel better?”
I don’t hesitate and nod. “Much better.”
We’re still whispering as we talk, and it begins to feel very intimate.
“I found out your birthday is on the fifth of February,” he informs me. “It’s still months away, but what is the one thing you would like to do most in the world?”
I suck in a deep breath as I try to think of something, then answer, “I don’t know.”
“Okay. I’ll make it a surprise.”
“When is your birthday?” I ask, so I don’t miss it. This man deserves to be celebrated.
“December twenty-eight.”
The question unleashes many more. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and somehow, we’ve drifted closer to each other, our foreheads almost touching.
“What’s your favorite thing to do?” I ask.
“Spending time with my family. We get together a lot, so you need to brace for that.”
Apprehension trickles through my chest. “Do you think they’ll be okay with me being at these gatherings?”
“Yes. Everyone just needs time.” Georgi lifts his hand and intimately pulls his fingers through my hair. “What’s your favorite thing to do?”