Page 52 of Used By the Bratva

We both lie exhausted on the bed, and I press a kiss on her forehead. She puts her head on my chest, her eyes shutting as she takes ragged breaths.

“How does it feel to be married, Mrs. Orlov.”

Natalie strokes my jaw, the rings glistening in the light. “It feels like a fever dream.”

I get out of bed, scoop her up, and carry her to the bathroom. She laughs as I lower her into the tub, filling it with water but keeping it on the cooler side.

As I slide in behind her, my legs on either side of her body, she reclines back into me, her eyes drifting shut.

I could spend every night for the rest of my life like this.

Chapter 20 - Natalie

It has been a long and lonely week, spent wandering the halls of the mansion or sitting in the conservatory sketching some of the flowers. I mainly worked with watercolors, focusing on the fluidity of the flowers.

I didn’t think I would spend the week after my wedding alone, but there were important matters to deal with, whatever that meant. I wasn’t told anything specific; all I know is that my husband wasn’t home much.

Even as Leon now sits opposite me in his private plane, I feel lonely.

He looks at the papers in front of him and sorts through a few numbers while we’re on our way to our honeymoon. I don’t know where we’re going because he won’t tell me, but it doesn’t look like he wants to go there now.

I run my fingers over the leather seats' white seams and look out the window. There is nothing below but clouds covering the land we’re over right now.

I lean back in my seat and look at the sketchbook in front of me.

Instead of watching Leon any longer, I decide to sketch him.

I pull my knees up and put my feet on the edge of the seat. Thanks to the bump that's steadily growing, it’s not as easy as it used to be. About five months go, and I’m counting down the days until I meet our baby.

“Hold that pose,” I say as I pick up my pencil and sketch Leon’s body’s masculine lines.

He looks up at me from behind his dark lashes, and the corner of his mouth tilts up. “Are you telling me what to do?”

“I might be, but I really do need you to stay still.”

He chuckles, obliging me by staying in one position while I finish roughing in the drawing.

My pencil flies over the page as I capture his angular jaw, freshly shaved, this morning. I try to get the shape of his eyes, the roundness, and the way they taper, but it is slightly more difficult to properly put down on the paper than I anticipated.

The side of my hand is covered in graphite as I reach for the mouldable eraser, shaping it into a blob and dabbing at some of the lines that are too dark. I make them lighter, tracing over the perfect ones, reducing the ones that weren’t quite right.

Leon looks up as I make a soft noise in my throat. “Sketch not turning out the way you want?”

I shrug. “Perhaps. I don’t know. It’s been weeks since I sat down to sketch something new. My fingers are a bit stiff. I feel like I can’t get the shape of your mouth right.”

“What’s so wrong about it?”

I giggle and say sheepishly, “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with your mouth,” which earns me a puzzled look.

Sighing, I turn the page to him and point to the curve in his upper lip. “I can’t get this one right. Every time I draw it, your cupid’s bow is either too strong or not pronounced enough.”

Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “You've spent more than enough time familiarizing yourself with my lips. I think you should know how to draw them by now.”

Heat floods through me, and for a moment, I consider convincing him to abandon his work and go to the bedroom at the back of the plane for the second time since take-off.

The pregnancy hormones are making me insatiable.

Or it’s the way his big hands feel on my body, which I can’t get enough of.