Page 18 of Marked & Bred By the Bratva
Lev doesn’t say anything. Just tips his chin toward the plate. I hold it out, my skin flushing so hot I’m worried I might faint.
“I’m bringing cookies.”
His eyes flick to my face. Then back to the cookies. Then back to me again.
“You made these?”
“I did,” I squeak. “I mean, Iboughtthe ingredients, and Iusedmy oven, so…”
My brain blue screens.
He takes the plate and steps aside.
Doesn’t say a word.
Just holds the door open and waits.
I follow him inside like I haven’t seen a single horror movie in my life.
His apartment smells like him. Woodsy cologne, delicious male musk… and danger. There’s a couch and a table in the living room. That’s it. He sets the plate down and turns to face me.
I amsoout of my depth with this man.
“Have one,” he says in his low, rough voice.
“Huh?”
“A cookie.”
Okay. Not bossy at all.
Still, I pick one up and take a bite. My eyes flutter shut on instinct becausedamn, I did a good job. Crispy edges. Gooey center. A little sea salt on top. I let out a quiet moan.
When I open my eyes, Lev’s right in front of me. Standing way too close.
“Good?” he rumbles.
I nod.
He takes the rest of the cookie from my hand and eats it.
Frommyhand. The cookie I just bit into.
I’m gonna need CPR.
“You always feed your neighbors in pajamas?” he asks in his stern tone, his handsome face still stone-like.
“No, just you.”
His full mouth twitches. Almost a smile.
Then his hand brushes my cheek. Barely. But it’s enough to make my thighs clench.
My heart jumps.
His fingers continue their exploration of my face.
I fuckingshatter.
