Page 32 of Knocked Up By the Russian

He walked toward her, stopping a few feet away. She was awake, her body curled on the furthest side of the bed. His duvet hooked under her bare leg.

She didn't say anything, so he didn't either. Ivan walked to the empty side of the bed and pulled his suit off, unholstering his gun and leaving it on the nightstand. He kicked off his shoes, then climbed into the bed, naked as the day he was born. Drunk, he could be as stubborn as his wife, and he didn't see a reason to put sweats on now that they'd slept together. He'd only done it previously because he hadn't wanted to make her uncomfortable.

Amy stayed silent the entire time, and frustration bubbled as he got comfortable, shifting the pillow the way he liked it. It didn't take him long to fall asleep after that.

***

Waking the next morning, his head throbbed in tune with his cock. The sun felt like it had risen early just to get back at him. It pierced through his eyelashes, and he groaned, burying his nose in Amy's hair as he hooked an arm around her waist. She'd fallen asleep on the other side of the bed, then changed position in her sleep until he was caught in her snare. An arm curled on his chest, her torso covered him, and she'd hitched her leg around his.

"Ty chertovski menya muchayesh'," he muttered, fingers sliding to grip her bare leg. She was warm, and in the perfect position for him to sink his hard cock into her—pure fucking torture in the prettiest form.

He had to move her, but the pounding in his head made it hard to think, and he hissed out a breath as she shifted on top of him. Her knee pressed into his dick, lighting his whole body on fire as she woke, but it was the whimper in the back of her throat that undid him as she wriggled around. Her pajamas slid softlyagainst his bare skin, and her eyes were dazed when she finally lifted herself up to see where she was—and who she was rocking against.

"Mishka," he puffed, hands gripping her moving hips. The more she moved, the less he could think, and his voice became a plea. "Tell me you need me."

"Ivan," she whispered, the rosy flush on her cheeks countering the way she stiffened a second later. Before he could say anything, she'd already slid off of him and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Frustrated, he shifted to a seated position, hitting his pillow as he did. The toilet flushed, and he could hear her washing her hands in the basin. When the shower started, his mind filled with images of her soft skin, and he swallowed. Unable to get his dick under control, he got out of bed and strode toward the bathroom.

Amy stood in the shower, her arms folded as the water poured over her. Amusement filtered in through the irritation, and he leaned against the wall to watch her.

"Frustrated, little bear?" he finally murmured as she grabbed his soap and turned her scowl on the tiled wall. The urge to join her was too much to resist, and he closed the distance between them, watching her for any sign that she didn't want him there—but Amy acted like he didn't even exist.

Annoyance prickled in his gut, forcing him into action.

The shower was big enough for a crowd, two spouts sluicing water down their frames as he stepped in behind her. Toying with her hair, he spoke. "Tell me you need me, Mishka."

Her lips pursed as she ignored him, and her nipples pebbled as he slipped a hand around her waist. "Tell me to go then," he whispered, but she didn't.

Stubborn fucking woman. He laid kisses on her neck, scraped his teeth against her shoulder, and nudged her toward the shower wall. Her hands reached for the tile, a faint whimper spilling from her lips as he resumed what she'd started a few minutes before.

"Speak to me, Mishka," he asked, dipping a finger into her wet heat. She shook her head, and he turned her around to face him, taking her lips in a kiss that left him burning.

Her sharp teeth nipped his bottom lip, and his abs clenched.Fucking brat, he pulled away to glare at her. Her gaze slid past his, her chin lifted stubbornly.

Fine, if she wanted to play like that, then he was more than happy to abide. Stepping away from her, he grabbed the soap and washed it off, pretending he didn't see the disappointment flashing across her features before he rinsed off and stepped out.

There were other ways he could use to get her to speak. Ivan dried himself off with a towel, brushing his teeth while his little bear glared daggers at him. Then he left the bathroom to get dressed and walked downstairs to make breakfast.

Amy joined him half an hour later, her body tense as he placed a bowl of chia and yogurt in front of her. Disgust curled her lip, and he fought a smile, sure she'd say something. When she didn't, his smile turned to a frown.

"Don't ignore me, Mishka. Please."

Nothing.

His heart thudded unnervingly, and he placed a mug in front of her. "Amy, I'm doing this for your safety. I don't want to keep you cooped up as much as you don't want to be stuck here all day. But until we figure out who's sending the threats, then this is what we're stuck with."

In the silence, he heard her words from last night echo in his head:"Don't put me in a fucking cage, Ivan."

Can't she see I don't want that either?

Trying again, he walked around the kitchen island to kiss her. His heart turned to ice when she stayed still. Like a fucking statue. Gritting his teeth, Ivan pulled away. "I don't want you to get hurt. Can't you understand that?"

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and he shook his head, chuckling darkly as his fingers ran through his hair. His thoughts darkened.Fuck.The things he was going to do when he found the bastard behind the threats. It would make Mikhail's reputation pale in comparison. No one fucked with what was his.

***

Ivan phoned his brothers when he got to the office, looking for an update on their search for the man threatening his wife. No one had anything new to add, and he huffed out a frustrated breath. A knock sounded on their office door, and he looked up.

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