Page 78 of British Bratva: A Russian Mafia Romance

“I… might have.”

“You’re a very bad man, spying on a teenage girl like that.” I let the other shoulder drop, holding eye contact and Maxim swallowed hard enough for me to see his Adam’s apple bob. The tent at the crotch of his trousers was already visibly straining.

“Jesus Liz. I’m trying to-”

Maxim’s mouth hinged open as I let the dress skitter to the tiles, slipping my knickers off along with it. I hadn’t bothered with a bra because I liked the way he watched my breasts, liked that he could see my nipples harden through the thin fabric, while we were wandering around the city. And I loved the way he was lost for words, eyes roving over me like he couldn’t ever get enough.

I leaned forward to turn the tap on and sat on the edge of the tub as I trickled bubble bath into it from the tiny little bottle on the side. The smell of rose geranium and orange blossoms filled the air. Expensive aromatherapy oils in the bath. Check. This really was five star luxury.

The water thundered in, filling the tub quickly, and I slid in when it was halfway up the sides, letting out a luxurious groan as the heat seeped into me, muscles that had been cramped up on the journey relaxing out along with my sigh.

I smoothed the bubbles over my bare breasts and Maxim let out a strangled sound from the bedroom.

“If that door’s locked, I’m breaking it down.”

I grinned, sliding deeper into the water. “I thought you had to check the room.”

“I do, you little minx.”

“You better hurry up then, I don’t think I can wait much longer.” Right from the first time when I’d seen him in the window across the street, refusing to touch himself despite how turned on he was, watching me writhe, I got a kick out of knowing he wanted me. Knowing that with a pane of glass between us, he could look but not touch and all that desire for me would build and build and build.

He’d been explosive the first time he took me, unstoppable. And every time since he found new ways to make me come apart.

I’d been desperate for him since the first time I laid eyes on him. The thought that he’d been holding himself back from claiming me like he wanted to for all those long lonely, solitary weeks, was so sexy.

I couldn’t resist teasing him now, especially when the power was on my side.

“Did you wish you could touch me?”

“You bloody know I did.”

I leaned back, arching my neck on a groan as I let my finger slip down to my sex, between my soft folds and rubbing at my clit before probing inside. Mouth open slightly for my hurried little pants, I held his eye across the distance.

Maxim growled, stalking closer to the thin pane of glass walling him off from me.

“All that time I could have been dreaming about this being your hand on me.”

“My hands are better.”

“Are they?”

“You seem to think so.”

“You could have crept into my bedroom in the middle of the night and showed me just how good they are.”

Maxim’s hand flattened against the glass, finger spreading out as though he’d truly forgotten the way in was just around the other side of the wall. I gasped again, arching back as my fingers grazed against a point inside that made me see stars.

His voice was dangerously, wonderfully low and his breath fogged up the glass between us. “You’d have liked that, would you?”

My breathing came out in a heavy, hurried rush just thinking about waking up to him all over me. Now, knowing him, wanting him the way I did, it was a perfect fantasy. No matter the lines he would have crossed if he’d ever tried it at the time.

“You know I would have. I’m made for you.”

I bit my lip, trying not to push myself too far. All of this was for him alone. Touching myself was never going to do it for me ever again. What I wanted was him. His gorgeous cock buried deep inside me, and his cum flooding into me, filling me up. He’d ruined me for any other man, and I didn’t care, because as far as I was concerned, there was only going to be him for as long as I lived.

“You better close your eyes and forget I’m even here,” he murmured, and the heat in his voice nearly lit me on fire.

My eyelids fluttered as I forced them shut, and suddenly, the room was entirely silent, except for the slow drip-drip-drip from the end of the tap and the low whirl of the fan. The water sloshed when I moved, bracing my arms on the sides of the large tub, and I tried to keep perfectly still. I could hear my breathing louder than anything else.

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