Chapter Fifteen
Milena moaned from the smell of cooked sugar and coffee as she entered the hall. This Einstein fella spoke the truth when he told Bash the bathroom was stocked with soaps and things, as Milena was shocked to find the high-end products her Nona used.
Tiptoeing down the hall, Milena took her time as she perused the art hanging on the walls. Bash’s partial story of a thief hiding his treasure like a dragon, whirled around in her head as she brushed a finger along the gold frames.
Bash poked at the edge of a pancake as he watched Milena make her way down the hall on the monitor. He’d intentionally turned off the camera in the room he’d given her, in order to afford her the level of privacy she deserved. He’d remained in his shower far longer than needed, jacking off twice to the memory of the way her lips felt against his.
Milena stopped in her tracks as she laid eyes on Bash, her mouth running dry as her eyes drifted from his damp hair to the frayed hem of his jeans lying against his bare feet. She watched as he skillfully flipped a pancake in the air, then added it to a growing plate. Bracing herself against the wall, Milena grew light-headed from the way the ink on Bash’s arm shifted with each movement of his muscles.
“I hope you're hungry.”
Shaking herself out of the lust-filled haze, Milena donned a smile, crossing the space of the room.
“Starving.” Coming to stand at the edge of the island, “Can I help with anything?”
Bash set the plate of pancakes in the center of the island, flashing what he hoped was a sexy smile in Milena’s direction. “Yes, you can help me eat all of this.”
Milena couldn't wait to dive in, if the pancakes tasted as good as they smelled, she was about to enter Nirvana. Reaching for the back of the stool, Milena stopped as a strong hand covered hers.
“Allow me.” Bash’s deep voice drew her attention from the upholstery of the chair to the ink decorating his flesh, her gaze stalling at the odd-shaped sword on the inside of his right arm.
“Thank you,” she whispered, raising her gaze to his as she allowed him to pull out her chair.
Bash squeezed Milena’s hand before returning to the opposite side of the island, sliding a cup of steaming coffee toward her.
Gathering her fork and knife, Milena slathered soft butter on the hot pancakes, adding a generous amount of syrup before taking her first bite.
“Oh my god.”
“Told you,” Bash boasted, taking a healthy forkful from his plate.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“My Aunt Cora. While she supported my love of video games, she insisted I learn as many life skills as I could.”
“My Nona and your aunt would have loved each other.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Shoving another forkful of pancake into his mouth, Bash watched as Milena ate with the same gusto he did.
“Can I ask you something personal?”
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, “As long as you return the favor.”
Snapping her attention toward Bash, “I thought you knew everything about me.”
“Is that a no?” He tossed back with a raised eyebrow.
Stabbing her fork into the last of her pancake, “I have nothing left to hide, Bash.”
“Everyone has secrets, Milena. Which one of mine do you want to unveil first?”
Draining the last of her coffee, the sweetness from the syrup diluting the bitterness. “You said you used to be a SEAL, why did you stop?”
Standing to his full height, Bash gathered his empty plate and headed toward the sink. “I was on a mission in Fallujah. We had intelligence there was to be a major arms exchange involving this douchebag who’d pissed off the wrong American official. We’d been holed up in this mud hut for what felt like forever, no sign of the douchebag. I needed to take a piss, but when I stood up, a bullet came flying through one of the cracks in the walls.”
Bash heard Milena gasp behind him, pulling his attention back to the present. Spinning on his heels, Bash leaned against the edge of the sink as he locked gazes with her.
“I said a few choice words but continued out through a hole in the wall into a small alley. When I rounded the corner, I found a little girl, she couldn’t have been more than ten years old, standing barefoot in the alley holding a grenade. I looked at that little girl and thought this is it, Trespass, you’re dead. Neither my training nor survival instinct kicked in forcing my mouth to open and take cover. I literally stood there and watched her pull the pin and toss it on the ground at my feet.”
