Page 73 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride
“I’ll make you some tea and find some other clothes for you to wear when you get out,” I say, busying myself by scooping up the discarded cleaner’s uniform from the floor. It’s hard not to look at her. It’s hard not to lean over the bath and kiss her.
Her eyes follow me as I move around the bathroom, then toward the door. “Take as long as you want,” I call behind myself, then hurry away, before I end up doing something really stupid.
While Angelika is soaking in the bubble-filled tub, I grab a quick shower in the guest bathroom, change into my sweatpants, and carry a tray of tea and sweet snacks up to the bedroom. She’s dressed in black sweatpants and a white crop top when I walk into the room. Her wet hair is freshly washed and pulled up into a bun on top of her head.
I set the tray down.
“I still have the hair drier in the closet. Let me dry your hair for you?”
“It’s ok, it takes a long time…”
“Come on, sit. Let me do this,” I insist, grabbing the dryer from the cupboard, along with the brush she left here.
Angelika throws a pillow onto the floor next to the bed and sits on it, between my legs, with her back facing me.
I loosen her hair and gently brush it backward over my legs. Drying her hair takes a long time because it’s thick, long, and beautiful. But I savor every moment of it as we both sit in silence, just being together.
It feels more intimate than any moment I’ve experienced with someone before. Somehow, this simple task is more nerve-racking than kissing her. Or sleeping with her.
I brush her hair with long, slow strokes, following the nozzle of the blower with the brush until her hair is silky and dry. I run my fingers through it, and it shocks me all over again how beautifully smooth her hair is. Another part of her perfection.
“Done,” I say, flicking the dryer off.
Standing up, I lift her with me.
“Thank you, it feels so much better than wet hair,” she says, threading her fingers through her wavy hair and enjoying the smooth, silky strands as much as I did.
She yawns, her eyes still red from the smoke and tiredness.
I pull the duvet back from my bed. “Get in, drink your tea.”
She doesn’t even argue.
I slip beneath the covers next to her. Neither of us touches the tea or the snacks; instead, she wiggles closer to me, and I wrap my arms around her precious form. Holding her close, I listen to her breathing and feel her heart beat against my skin.
I want to whisper to her what she means to me, but she’s exhausted, fading into dreams.
My heart pulls tight in my chest when I think about her not being with me. I always want her with me. I don’t know how to forget about her or let her go. She’s meant to be in my life, and I have to find a way to make that happen.
I can tell when she’s asleep because her body relaxes, melting into a deeper state as it releases against me. Her tension dissipates. I clench my jaw and sigh.
Whispering against her hair, I utter a truth I desperately want her to know. “I love you, little princess.”
She stirs in her sleep and snuggles closer to me, mumbling incoherent words.
“Sleep, my angel, I’ve got you,” I say, kissing her head and closing my eyes.
Chapter 22 - Angelika
A faded morning glow pierces through the cracks of his partially open blinds. I smile and snuggle closer to his sleeping form. His skin is warm, his arms are wrapped around me as though he didn’t move at all last night after we climbed into bed.
I never intended to spend the night here.
The plan was for him to drop me off at home after the operation so that I could sneak back into my bedroom and no one would know anything.
Technically, I should be panicking right now, scared my brother will see I’m gone. But in all honestly, it’s too early for him to be checking in on me—and somehow, this moment with Diomid is worth it, even if I get caught again.I want this. I wish I could wake up like this every day of my life.
Sighing, my heart constricts, and a persistent nagging voice tugs at my thoughts.
