Page 62 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

Her smile wins out as she goes over to the bed, one tentative hand held out to stroke the comforter. I notice she uses the back of her knuckles, like she’s afraid to soil the fabric. “God, it’s beautiful.”

“Stop.” The curtness in my voice surprises me—her too, by the expression on her face. “You’re dirty.”

She spins to look at me. “But I just—”

I gesture to her. “Look.”

Her gaze falls, and her righteously angry expression does, too, down to the dirt smears on her sweatpants and hoodie. “The pay phone booth. Right.”

“I don’t care where it’s from. You need to shower and change clothes.”

She gives me an encroaching glare. I just told Joy I don’t intend to control her, but that was a fucking lie. I intend to control every single thing she does, for as long as she remains under my influence.

Starting with stripping her bare.

I keep my gaze on her. “Unless you’d prefer to sully your new room.”

She sighs. She knows I’m right.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom, of course.” I lead her to it. “With a shower and Jacuzzi. It should be more than enough to suit all your needs.”

She looks around, again like a kid in a candy shop, although her gaze goes sullen when it gets to me. “You’re telling me to shower right now? Is that an order?” Her voice is defiant and proud.

Ah yes, this will be a tough one to tame. I can see that now.

I hold her gaze. “You don’t have to do anything. Other than what is outlined in our arrangement, of course.”

She steps towards the shower, then pauses. “Are you staying to ensure I do it properly?”

I smirk. “Are you trying to imply by your questions that I’m a control freak?”

She offers me a flash of a grin that quickly disappears. “You are hiring a fake wife to do your bidding.”

I smile too. It feels good, being around her. Like I’m more awake, in some undefinable way. Lit from within. “I am a control freak. You’re right.”

“So, you’ll stay?”

“I trust you know the basics of washing yourself.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She’s watching me warily, like a cat. Like a test.

I stay put and she stands there, looking confused as she realizes what comes next—taking off her clothes.

“Would you like me to go?” I ask lightly.

“No—I …” She glares at me. This is some kind of game neither of us knows the rules for, not yet. A dare that keeps getting upped with every new word. “Help me.”

I stand there, as she pulls off her shirt, sneaking another glare at me. “Never mind.”

Too late. The sight of her bare back, her Venus dimples, springs my cock in my pants, and pulls me to her like a hook in my chest. She grips one side of her sweats; I grip the other. We pause.

“I don’t need your help,” she says.

“You asked.”

And then I slide her pants down. The movement takes her panties down with it, leaving me with a sight that I have to clench my hands to avoid grabbing. Her ass is thin, gaunt, and yet the flush is so supple and smooth that it takes every ounce of willpower in me to avoid leaning down and marking her with my teeth.

Careful, Gavril.

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