Page 52 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

Chapter 30 - Dimitry

Now, this was the honeymoon I wanted. Perfect harmony, and best of all, Olivia acted more like her true self. No more robotic perfection, or acting the way she thought she needed to. I didn’t want it to end, but by the next evening, Ivan called to give me the all clear.

He found the person in charge of the gang that was threatening us and took care of it. No one was going to be testing our new authority in the area again. Olivia and I were free to go home, but there was still so much to do with the project that I knew I’d get caught up in work again if we did.

“I’ll let you know when we’re coming back,” I said to Ivan. “Keep things under control until then.”

When I returned to the breakfast table, Olivia looked up from the spread we ordered from room service. “Good news?” she asked.

“No news.” I felt bad about lying, but it was such a tiny one, and for a good reason. “We can’t go home yet.”

She shrugged. “One place is as good as another, I guess.”

I was a little bit taken aback, and disappointed, too. It was one thing if she was pleased to get to stay here because we were having such a great time, but she honestly didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

“I was kind of starting to think of our place as home,” I said. It looked like she wanted to say something, even opened her mouth, but then shut it again, like she didn’t want an argument. “Aren’t you happy there?”

Another shrug. “I’m as happy there as anywhere else you tell me to be.”

Was this about making her leave to come here without even a minute’s notice? And was she slipping back into her professional facade? I didn’t return to my seat. The big breakfast no longer seemed that appetizing when she was on the verge of slipping away from me again.

“That’s not happiness,” I argued. If she shrugged one more time, I was going to lose it. “Olivia,” I all but pleaded. “What will make you happy? Really happy?”

Her eyes met mine. “You already know.”

I put my face in my hands, swiping my palms over my hair in frustration. “I still have no idea where your father or Rurik Kuzmin is. They’re doing a remarkable job of hiding from my best investigators. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“It tells me you’re paranoid,” she said, putting down her fork and standing to square off with me. Good. Mad was better than nothing at all. “My father paid his debts, so why should it matter where either of them are?”

“Because you matter to me, damn it. And I don’t trust either of those men as far as I can throw them. Rurik’s had it out for my family for years. He’d do anything to bring us down. And you’re one of us now.”

She strode forward and grabbed my shirt, trying to shake me, but I stood unwavering. “Do you know what I really want to do?” she demanded. “I want to take a surfing lesson.”

My mouth fell open, shocked to hell and unable to answer right away. What was this curveball?

She slapped her hands against my chest. “And if you don’t join me,” she continued. “You should watch your back.”

I took her shoulders, giving her a little shake in return as I laughed with relief. “I will never understand you in a million years, but I can’t wait to keep trying.”

“I guess that’s kind of sweet,” she admitted. “And this place is probably top tier as far as hideouts go.” She dipped her head before looking up at me through her long lashes. “I like it better when we’re not fighting. Maybe we should get a little bit drunk again.”

“I’m already drunk on your beauty,” I said.

She groaned at the cheesy, but honest line, and then I tipped up her chin and brought my mouth down to hers. Her fingers curled in my shirt, and she tugged me closer as our lips met. She tasted like strawberry jam and smelled like the fresh sea air that wafted through the open balcony door.

“Dima,” she whispered when I broke away to kiss the tender spot by her ear that drove her wild. Hearing her say my name is what did it for me. Every time. That and everything else she did.

I began to back her toward the terrace, and she clasped her arms around my neck, letting me lift her feet off the ground. Her soft curves melted against me, and my cock stood at attention at the merest brush of her belly. What was air, water, and food when I only needed Olivia?

She tugged at my hair as I pulled the zipper down on her light sweatshirt. To my pleasure, there was nothing underneath, and her head fell back as I sank lower to lick each pink nipple.

“Perfect,” I said. “Just perfect.”

Inside, I was a powder keg, about to go off, but wanted to take my time, not give into the frenzy that always overtook us. I wanted to savor her.

Kissing and licking my way down to her pajama bottoms, I nipped at the waistband, my hands gripping her soft ass, kneading that glorious flesh as she moaned above me. Her hands tangled in my hair, and she pushed me lower.

“Tell me what you want,” I urged.

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