Safe With Me

Whenever Sergei Kourdakov and I walked alongside each other, he always threw an arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer to him as if shielding me from any harm.  He towered over me with his muscular physique and broad shoulders, overshadowing my petite frame.  “You are safe with me,” Sergei would assure me with an easy smile, as his arm rested on my shoulders.

Below is an excerpt from A Rose for Sergei. 

“We were excited to get started on our shopping trip, so we headed right out to my car.  I handed him the keys to my Mustang and asked if he wanted to drive, which was a big thing to me since I never let anyone drive my car.  I didn’t think he was the type of guy who wanted to be a passenger in a car driven by a female.  He declined and settled right in, leaning his bucket seat way back to enjoy the ride. 

           

When we arrived at the shopping center, Sergei was quick to hop out and run around to open my car door.  He had a big smile on his face, gave me a hug, and then threw one arm over my shoulders.  He pulled me close to his side as we proceeded to walk through the parking lot.  Some guys like to hold hands, some like to link arms when they walk—he liked to casually drape one arm over my shoulders and hold me close, my head almost leaning against his chest and tucked in safely under his arm.  Although I didn’t feel I needed to be protected in broad daylight in the middle of the parking lot, it was comforting anyway.  As we walked, we fell into an easy rhythm as Sergei naturally adjusted his steps to my shorter strides.  It felt as if we had known each other for a long time . . . .”