Page 142 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

ALEKS

I can see her collarbones and the vague shape of her breasts through the rippling water, but nothing else. Her dark hair is smoothed back and floating along in the water behind her.

She looks phenomenal. Like a wet dream come true.

But I’m not about to push this little experiment she’s trying. She wants something from me? Then she’s going to have to work for it.

I wasn’t lying about the women I used to bring here. More than once, I had multiple women in the water with me. This lake has some stories to tell.

So why do I feel like I’d trade every single one of those repetitive memories just to watch Olivia swim around in some ill-advised seduction play? Perhaps it’s for the best for both of us that Olivia’s own personality keeps getting in the way of her efforts.

She thrashes suddenly and screams. “What the hell was that?”

I snort with laughter. “Probably just the eels saying hello.”

“Eels? Are you serious?”

“You tell me.”

She takes a deep breath, but keeps her eyes on the water. It’s distracting from her flirting, but I don’t mind that her attention is elsewhere.

Olivia is sexiest when she isn’t trying.

But I doubt many men have told her so. A shame, really—to have a woman like Olivia and no idea what to do with her. How to mold her. How to bend her. How to break her.

Satisfied that no other creatures from below are lurking just out of sight, Olivia turns her gaze back to me. “So as I was saying—uh… wait, what was I saying?”

“You were making a point,” I tell her. “Poorly.”

She glares at me. “We both know I’m just the placeholder wife. You’ll divorce me in a year and replace me with some blonde bimbo with big tits and no gag reflex.”

I smile. “Sounds like my kind of woman.”

But a voice inside my head begs to disagree. Your kind of woman is swimming naked in the lake right in front of you, it says.

I ruthlessly snuff it out.

Although that gets slightly harder when Olivia drifts a few yards closer to the shore. Up here, I can see the dark circles of her nipples, the curve of her hip beneath the surface.

My cock strains in my pants.

“Have you ever been in love?” she blurts suddenly.

I chuckle. “Have you?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Of course.”

“Why didn’t it work out?”

She stops short and sinks back below the water, like it’s easier to lie to me if I can’t see all of her. “It… it just wasn’t right.”

“Then how could it have been love?”

“What are you, some sort of relationship expert?”

“You’re the one who asked.”

“Love doesn’t always have to be hot and passionate and explosive, you know?” she says. “Sometimes, love feels different. It’s more… stable. Safe. Comforting.”

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