Page 65 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
She sits on the edge of the bed and begins to pour me some juice from the pitcher. “Well, maybe if you weren’t such a grumpy stooge, the maids would have helped you.”
“Hey!” I protest playfully. “It’s not my fault they suck at doing things right.”
“You snapped at them every time they entered. By the end of it, they told me in so many words to handle you myself or they’ll quit,” she looks amused.
I grin as I reach for a piece of toast. “Well, that explains it then,” I say and take a bite.
“Explains what?”
“Why do you look more tired than I do, even though I’m the one who got beaten up?” I grin.
Arina’s eyes widen in mock shock at my playful remark as she picks up a grape and throws it at me. I duck with a laugh before sitting back up, and the laughter fades when I take her hand again and look into her eyes. “You sure you’re taking care of yourself?” I ask, with worry.
“Don’t worry about me. Someone had to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep,” she tries to joke, but when I don’t smile, she sighs. “You haveno ideahow scared I was.”
“I do, actually,” I say softly, remembering the terror on her face when she saw me at the warehouse. “But I’m okay now, really. I want you to stop hovering over me, okay? Make a plan with the girls. Go out shopping. Get a massage. Get some rest, Arina.”
She smiles as she leans forward, her hand cupping my cheek. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”
“I’ll try not to make a habit of it,” I promise, turning my face to press a kiss to her palm. “And you’ll get some rest tonight?”
“Yes,” she promises now, her eyes darting between mine. The past week has been a haze with all those medications I’vebeen having, and seeing the color of her eyes properly, the pretty hues of blues and greens that remind me of a tropical forest, makes me go into a trance.
She doesn’t pull away, and ever so slowly, I interlace my fingers with hers. God, how I missed her. She was around, yes. But I missed being one with her, missed the softness of her skin against mine, missed that look in her eyes when I hit the spots she likes, missed the feel of her hair spreading across my chest.
With our eyes still locked, time turns in on itself and ceases to exist. The air we breathe becomes shared; my skin hums, and I feel charged, electric.
Her breath catches, and I watch her gaze drop to my mouth.
“I should let you eat,” she says in a whisper.
“I’m not very hungry.” I push the tray aside. “What I really want is a shower.”
“Then I should let you shower,” she whispers, and when she swallows, her throat bobs.
“But there’s a problem,” I say hoarsely, my eyes now roving down to her lips, down her body, before flicking back up again. She’s still in her sleep shorts, which are so terribly short, and that tight t-shirt does little to curtail my imagination.
She bites her lower lip and inches toward me. “Which is?”
“I might get bored in there all by myself.” I raise an eyebrow. “Any suggestions for entertainment?”
For a moment, she just stares, then a slow smile spreads across her face, and she makes me feel divinely primal.
“I might have an idea or two,” she says, her voice dropping a notch lower.
Checkmate.
I grin and swing my legs over the side of the bed, grab her hand, and tug her toward the bathroom. She laughs as she follows.
“You’re supposed to be taking it easy!” she squeals at my pace as she follows. Once inside, I slam the door shut.
“Then I guess you’ll have to do all the work,” I murmur, backing her against the counter.
Her lips part as she looks up at me, and that’s all the invitation I need. I lean down and skim my lips against hers, over and over, until she giggles and bites playfully into my lower lip. I grin as I kiss her properly now, sliding my lips along hers, and then she parts her lips for me, and I slither my tongue into her mouth. She melts against me as her hands slide up my chest.
I pull away and brush my nose against hers. “I’ve missed you,” I breathe.
“I missed you, too,” she whispers, and my chest cracks open.
