Page 110 of Bratva's Intern

But Maxim didn’t move away.

I cracked one eye open. He was sitting on the edge of thebed, fully dressed in his Mr. Morozov attire. He couldn’t have gotten much sleep last night, but from his appearance, no one would be able to tell.

His midnight hair, always immaculate, was swept back off his forehead in a startling contrast to his eyes, which glowed with a fire that belied any lack of rest. His lips curved into his usual wolfish smile, but fondness softened the predatory edge.

He was staring down at me.

Not in that calculating, clinical way he sometimes looked at people but like he was memorizing me. Committing me to memory.

He slid his hand beneath the sheet and found my hip. “Good morning, sweet thing.”

Okay, a broken hole didn’t know when to quit.

Mine was getting all excited at being calledsweet thing. Completely oblivious to how much I was throbbing from last night.

“Morning, Max,” I said sleepily. “Aren’t you going to work?”

“In a minute.” His fingers traced the ridge of my waist, then lower, over my thigh. “But I wanted to look at you first.”

I squirmed, half-flattered, half-embarrassed.

“You’re staring.”

Even with my eyes closed, I felt the heat of his gaze.

“I am.” He tugged the sheet down slowly, exposing my bare back, my ass, my thighs. “You’re beautiful when you’re like this. Your skin’s all bruised from last night.”

I flushed and turned my face into the pillow so he couldn’t see my smile.

“You’re insatiable.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned over me, slid a hand between my thighs, and nudged them apart.

“Max, I’m too sore for?—”

“Shhh,” he said, voice like smoke. “Let me taste you before I go. I’ll be gentle and make up for how rough I was on you last night.”

Before I could tell him neither my body nor I had any complaints, he flipped me onto my stomach, spreading me open with his hands. He dipped his head and licked a long, slow stripe between my cheeks.

My body jerked. I gasped, clutching the pillow. “Oh my god. Max.”

He groaned like he was savoring dessert, dragging his tongue over my hole again, then swirling it, teasing it, pressing it inside just enough to make me shake.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

I’d thought I was too tired to come again. But Maxim was thorough.

Determined.

He pinned my hips with both hands, tongue-fucking me until my legs trembled, until I was gasping into the pillow, until I sobbed his name and came with a shudder that left me boneless.

I collapsed into the sheets, body still twitching, slick with sweat, and barely capable of speech. He wasn’t wrong. His tongue had been soothing over my aching flesh.

Maxim kissed my back, slow and reverent, then bit my shoulder playfully. “Feel any better?”

“Hmm.”

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