Page 67 of Devil's Vows
I should get up, out of his bed, go shower and get dressed, but I’m still so tired. Not enough sleep last night, combined with the emotional upheaval, and here is Irisha, so peaceful, playing with my hair, I could just drift off again.
Ivan is busy in the dressing room, and now the intoxicating scent of his shower is infiltrating the space, and just the hint of it makes visuals of that night, when I walked in on him, flash through my mind’s eye.
I bite my lip. This can’t go on. Something’s got to give. And soon.
Something already has…
I’m not sure why he kissed me last night, but I can’t let it happen again. With the way I’m feeling now, pouring more fuel on the yearning in my body would only lead to misery.
“How are my girls this morning?” Ivan says as he walks into the bedroom.
I tense. Irisha shifts and peers over me. “Papa.”
“I’m still here,malyshka, but I’m going to the office soon.”
And then he’s right there, leaning over us, a finger stroking down Irisha’s forehead to the little slide of her nose. “Boop.”
I feel his body’s magnetic pull, so close I could just latch on to him.
“Gabi slept in your bed,” Irisha says, eyes wide as he now ruffles her hair.
“That’s because I told her to,” he says as I roll onto my back to look up at him.
My breath catches. First at the soft look in his gaze but then I look down.
Oh my…
He is bare-chested, he holding a black button-up in his one hand, while he feeds his belt through his pants loops with the other. My gaze travels down his chest, lower, to where his half-zipped pants still fold open, a line of hair disappearing underneath his underwear’s black waistband with the white designer logo showing. The whole visual from this angle…the need to be on my knees, to worship this god of a man?—
“And how did you sleep,moya ptichka?” he asks, done with the belt. As he pulls on his shirt, every muscle ripples with the movement, accentuating his six-pack, the perfect slopes of his pecs as they run over to his muscled shoulders. The ink on his chest, the eye that stares at me, makes my own gaze jump to the two bullet wounds under his clavicle, just to be lured back by the fine dusting of hair that only leads the eye down south, to where the bulge in his pants is right there, within reach.
He’s leaning against the bed, and like this, it wouldn’t take much to inch closer, peel down those boxer briefs, let him spring free and take him in my mouth. The desire is hot and intense and so sudden—something I’ve never dreamt about before—that I meet his eyes, flustered.
A wildfire blush spreads over my cheeks as I find his gaze on me, serious but seeming to soak in every rogue thought, and when I don’t respond, he quirks a brow at me.
“Sweet dreams, I hope, Gabriella?”
At his words, his tone, the unfulfilled need seems to course through me, making that little pulse beat in my clit—again.
“Yes,” I croak, not knowing what else to say.
He hasn’t bothered with his buttons yet, and now he leans in, his open shirt brushing over my arm as he touches my temple, his thumb grazing the corner of my mouth before it sweeps over my lips, back and forth, making them split apart, reminding me where his lips were last night, the sensual intrusion of his tongue as he deepened our kiss.
Because it was ours. It wasn’t him kissing me, it wasn’t me kissing him—it was us, kissing each other.
“Take your time showering and getting ready for the day. I’ll take the girls down for breakfast.”
“Papa,” Katya’s voice comes from the far side of the bed. “Is Gabi going to be our mommy now?”
I freeze.
Ivan retracts his hand, straightens, and slowly starts buttoning his shirt, his eyes locked on mine as he moves from one button to the next, every movement sensual and not helping cool down the effervescent sparkles on my skin that his touch triggered.
“I wonder what she’ll say if I ask her,” he says, his voice light and easy as he tucks in his shirt.
Yes.
Yesto his girls whom I already love and would love to watch grow up.
