Page 15 of Bratva's Innocent Obsession
“Ah, my champagne, thank you.” I add my thanks in Russian as the other guard approaches, a bottle and two glasses in his hands.
Taking them from him, I make a display of closing the door, opening the champagne with a subtle and controlled pop.
I look up just as I’m about to pour to find Taylor watching me with shy curiosity that thankfully could be interpreted as wariness. She’s wrapped herself in a towel.
I smirk and play out my little amateur dramatics performance, examining the glass I was about to use, then taking it to the door.
Taylor gasps as she realises I’m going to do all this totally naked.
“It’s dirty.” I shove the perfectly clean glass at the nearest guard. They’ve swapped around, and he checks out my junk before accepting the champagne flute without comment.
This time I don’t wait as long—as though I’ve just remembered—before I open the door again, and channelling my inner Primadonna ballet dancer, ask, “Where are my strawberries?”
Their expressions are a picture.
“Have you showered?” I demand when I turn back to Taylor. I’ve thoroughly annoyed the guards and have them thinking I’m an idiot. A harmless, frivolous, arsehole, which is ideal for my purposes.
“No,” she replies timidly, a bit confused.
“Dirty girls don’t get strawberries, Taylor. Get in there.” I point to the bathroom, and she scurries away. I consider rechecking about the strawberries, but instead take a swig ofchampagne and follow Taylor to the bathroom, hoping I can hold this together.
It’s as big as most full bedrooms, with a double sink and a large walk-in shower.
Taylor is under the spray. My cock twitches at the sight of her, rivulets of water running over her lean but feminine body. She’s unbelievably beautiful. I can’t believe I thought petite ballet dancers weren’t my thing.
She’s my thing.
I don’t hesitate, following her under the shower, and pinning her against the tiles.
“Good girl,” I rasp against her neck just beside her ear as I grab her hair and use it to angle her head so she can hear me. “The sound of the water will make it far more difficult to hear us. Do you think they have cameras in here too?”
“Yes,” she says, a bit breathy.
Fuck, her body trapped between me and the wall is far more arousing than I should allow myself.
It’s impossible not to react, even though I’ve just come.
“Okay, so we’ll pretend to have sex in the shower.”
Actually fake it this time, so I don’t lose my whole mind.
She has her back to my front, and the temptation to lift her up and onto my cock is almost unbearable. My cock thickens again, not getting the message that this isn’t an erotic leisure activity, but a situation that will get both of us killed if I mess it up.
“Here’s the plan,” I say.
It’s better that I can’t see her face. I can fool myself she’s less beautiful, less desirable, less perfect for me in every way if I can’t look right at her. “You’re going to tell me about the guards and the exits. Everything you know. Then in another hour or so, when the men outside the door are totally bored with this job, we’re going to escape.”
“I can’t,” she replies tentatively.
What? Did I lose my mind when I fucked her?
“Your sisters sent me, like I said,” I repeat. “I’m rescuing you.”
“No,” she repeats more firmly. “Not without the rest of the ballet troupe.”
“I’ll take you home,” I whisper, and tighten my hold on her.
“I’m not goinganywherewithout my friends.”
