Page 73 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
I roll over onto my other side. I can’t get comfortable. The memories feel all wrong: lumpy, and hard, and misshapen. My body feels out of sorts too, no doubt the after-effects of being sick earlier coupled with too many rounds of grilled cheese smothered in sweet chili sauce.
Eventually, I must doze off, because when I open my eyes, my back feels stiff, I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and daylight is spilling through the window.
I miss Andrej’s presence beside me in bed. I miss his warm breath on the back of my neck, his arm around my waist, the gentle sounds that he makes when he’s dreaming. Even fully submersed beneath the covers, I shiver without him.
“You told him not to follow you,” I remind myself.
Fucking idiot!
In the cold stark light of the moment, it felt like the right thing to do. I needed space to think about what he’d told me, to clear my head, figure out what to do about it. The information matched up with what Yuri Asimov had said, and I hadn’t realized until that moment how desperately I wanted that man—my supposed uncle—to be wrong.
Because if Andrej’s father killed my biological parents, how can I be with him?
They’re murderers. That’s what the logical part of my brain is yelling at me now that I’m awake.
But how can I be without him?
This is what my heart is yelling straight back at my prefrontal cortex.
Time doesn’t exist inside our winter wonderland, but it feels as if I’ve known Andrej Ivanov for a lifetime. Or rather, it feels as if my life reset itself the moment he walked into that hospital room, and my heartbeat got all erratic on me.
Nausea crashes through me as I sit up in bed and swing my legs over the side, feet searching for the fluffy slippers that Andrej gave me. I must’ve picked up some kind of bug, or maybe I ate something that unsettled my stomach. I realize at the same time that I’m ravenous.
I head downstairs to the kitchen in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. The room is empty, but I noticed the bodyguards stationed upstairs and at the end of the hallway. I peer outside and find a security team posted around the grounds.
I fill a mug with black coffee from the machine, add a couple spoons of sugar, no cream. I make toast and slather it with butter, then go back to the refrigerator for jam. I’m craving sugar this morning. My body must be trying to replace what it lost when I was sick yesterday.
Armed with toast and coffee, I make my way to the den and get cozy on the couch, switching the TV to Netflix using Andrej’s VPN. I play the first Christmas movie that I come across,The Christmas Inheritance, and sit back.
It beats thinking.
I doze on and off. My brain feels like mush, my limbs are heavy, and my skin feels sore to touch. I think I’m fighting off a cold. I can almost hear Mika’s voice telling me:That’s what you get for lying in the snow.
But how I feel fades into insignificance when Andrej finally enters the den. His skin is gray almost, his lips narrow and blue, and there are dark circles underneath his eyes. He’s wearing a thick sweater, but I can see him shivering inside it.
“Andrej?” I lift the blanket and pat the cushion for him to come and join me. “What’s wrong? Are you sick too?”
He sits beside me, and I tuck the blanket around him, finding his icy hands beneath it. I instinctively rub them to warm him up, and a lazy smile spreads across his face.
“I could get used to this.” His chattering teeth give him away though.
“Where have you been?”
“Outside. I took the night shift with Ivana.”
“Why? What are you not telling me?”
Andrej sits back against the arm of the sofa, spreads his legs, and pulls me between them, pulling the blanket up to our chins despite the heat of the roaring fire. Instantly, his erection presses against my lower back, and my sex responds by soaking through my panties.
Staying away from Andrej is going to prove impossible.
Unless I join a convent and devote the rest of my life to God.
Even then, I’ll still have my memories of him spreading my legs wide and licking out my pussy…
Maybe I could be hypnotized into forgetting him.
Then he nuzzles my neck, his front teeth nibbling on my earlobe, and my nipples reflexively harden. Scratch hypnotherapy. Muscle memory will let me down every time.
