Page 29 of Bratva's Intern

He frowned, looking as though I insulted him. “Of course not. I don’t share.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You, get dressed. Nik, when she’s decent, explain why we’re here. We’ll be out in a minute.”

A minute? What kind of sex did he expect in a minute?

He bullied me inside the bedroom, shutting the door behind us. The light flickered on, revealing an untidy bedroom with clothes strewn on the unmade bed and books on the floor. On my computer desk, I’d left an opened box of cereal, a drinking glass, and a bowl with a spoon. Heat singed my cheeks.

“You’re not supposed to be in my bedroom.”

Mr. Morozov scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the unmade bed, then landing back on me with the same unreadable expression he always wore.

“Take off your shirt.”

I choked on my spit.

“What?” I wheezed.

Mr. Morozov gave me an unimpressed look. “Your shirt. Take it off.”

I took a frantic step back, my brain short-circuiting. “I-I can’t?—”

His expression shifted slightly, and he let out a quiet, knowingah.

“Right. Your arm.”

Wait, what?—?

Before I could process what that meant, he was rightthere, his large, sure hands reaching for the buttons of my shirt.

I froze.

He was undoing my shirt. His fingers brushed against my chest through the fabric, and my entire nervous system fried.

“Wha-wh—” I was not stuttering. Nope. Not happening. “This is—this is highly inappropriate?—”

Mr. Morozov hummed, unbothered, and continued his task, his fingers efficiently popping one button after another.

I licked my lips, throat dry. “You’re my boss, Mr. Morozov.”

“Mm.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

That got his attention. His hands stilled, and he frowned. “What?”

I cleared my throat, searching for an exit strategy that didn’t exist. “I just, I mean, it’s not going to take one minute, is it?”

“It’s just a figure of speech, Wren. I don’t have to be back at the office this instant.”

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

“Oh,” I squeaked. So not one minute, then. He looked like a guy who could make love to someone all night.

My breath punched out of my lungs. I desperately needed to get laid if the boss I hated suddenly seemed appealing at the thought of sex all night.

Maxim finished unbuttoning my shirt and slid it off my shoulders. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I should stop him.

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