Page 10 of Nurse for the Russian Mafia

But what if I’m so silly and inexperienced I can’t even make him finish? The sensation stalls, and nerves tumble through me.

“Tomorrow,” I whisper.

“It’s all arranged,” he says. “Now, sit. Eat. I won’t take no for an answer. The first moment I saw you, I knew you weren’t like other girls, those fools who think just because they skip a meal here and there, they’re better than everybody else. You enjoy good food, you live life, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Really, how could I say no to that?

And I am hungry.

And it is silly, being ashamed to eat in front of him, because he’s right, I do try and enjoy my life. And if that means indulging in some good food and keeping my strength up, well, there’s nothing wrong with that.

Chapter Seven

Alexander

“What should I wear?” the future mother of my children asks me.

We are standing in my basement bedroom the night of our date. She speaks quietly, because of Virgil. That’s still the one dark spot on our otherwise star-bright relationship, this secret she still hasn’t divulged to her father.

I want to tell her that she should just wear the nurse’s outfit, because honestly she looks so fucking womanly in that. But I can also read my woman, and I know she wants to dress up … which is why I took the liberty of having a top designer make a dress for her and ship it via private plane from Paris last night.

When I show her the blue, sparkling dress and the heels to match, she gasps, fluttering her hands in shock. “I love this designer!” she cries. “But isn’t he crazy expensive?”

“There are perks to being a billionaire,” I say. “Try it on for me.”

“What? Now?”

I grin like the animal I am, claiming my prey, Samantha, the only woman I will ever want or need. “Now.”

She shivers seductively, but it’s all the more alluring because I can tell she’s not doing it for the sole reason of enticing me. Unlike the women from my Bratva life, she hasn’t been schooled in the best way to deceive a man. Everything about her is genuine. She is who she is, no apologies, and I respect her so much for it.

“I don’t know if this is weird, Alexander, but I sort of like it when you’re bossy.”

“Good,” I growl. “So put it on.”

I walk to the door and close it, and then turn the lock. The click signifies that we are alone now. Virgil is at the grocery store, so we are alone anyway, but now the moment seems all the more full of potential. I lean against the door and fold my arms, watching her closely.

She peels away her clothes slowly, eyes locked on me the whole time as though for approval. When she’s in her underwear and I get a full look at her beauty curves, I can’t help myself. I stalk across the room and run my hands up the creamy flesh of her thighs, reveling in their softness, their shapeliness.

“That makes me so self-conscious,” she mutters.

I pause. “Do you want me to stop?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Because let me tell you what it makes me,” I snarl, rubbing softer now, sliding caressingly closer to her sex. “It makes me feel like you’re a woman who knows how to take care of herself, and in turn will know how to take care of somebody else. It makes me feel like you’re a strong hour-glass woman who knows how to please a man like me, a man who needs a real woman to make him feel complete.”

“Jeez,” she mutters, letting her eyes roll in pleasure. “Okay, Alexander, when you put it like that…”

I step back quickly, shaking my head. “But I’ve got a plan for us tonight,” I say. “And it’s not to take you here. God help me, I have to make myself wait. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, because those round ass cheeks are just begging for me to slide up between them, to rub my manhood against the wet fabric of your underwear. But I want to make your first time special.”

“Let’s leave quickly, then,” she cries, grabbing the dress. “Because you just made me hornier then I even knew women could get.”

I have to keep my hands behind my back as she wriggles into the figure hugging dress, thanking God or whoever else formed this woman that they added gradations in all the right places. I could spend hours just running my hands up and down her body, feeling all the different ways it shifts under pressure. And there would never, not once, be that awful feeling of snagging a rib or a hipbone.

Who wants that shit?

She’s all curves. She’s all sexiness. She’s all mine.

Finally, it’s time to leave. I have a limo waiting for us when we walk out of her house. Samantha glances up and down the street, watching for the return of her father, I guess. I stamp down on the surge of annoyance that riots through me. Soon, she’ll have to tell him. But she looks too damn magnetic in that dress for me to stop now.

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