Page 3 of A Nanny For The Bratva Boss
Christ.
His chest is a goddamn work of art. All hard planes and defined muscle, with tattoos snaking across his ribs, over his shoulder, down his arms. There’s a scar cutting across his abdomen, jagged and brutal, and I want to trace it with my tongue.
Oh, Maya.
He leans against the railing, his back to me, and takes a slow sip of his coffee.
I hold my breath.
This is the part where I should look away. Go inside. Stop being a creep.
But I don’t. I can’t.
Because even from behind, he’s devastating.
Broad back, muscles shifting under tanned, inked skin, that thick dark hair still damp from his shower.
He turns slightly, his profile coming into view, and my heart does a stupid flutter.
His chiseled jaw, his full lips that are set in a permanent tight line… I’m fucking obsessed!
He lifts the mug to his mouth, and I bite my bottom lip, imagining what those hands, those lips would feel like on my skin. Rough. Demanding. Taking what they want.
Stop it.
But it’s like I can’t. My body is betraying me, my panties getting damp, my nipples tightening under my tank top. Like I’m going to combust. Right here. On this bench. In broad daylight.
And then he turns. Just a fraction. And his eyes, cold and piercing blue, lock on mine.
Oh shit.
I freeze.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just stares at me with an unreadable expression, his coffee mug still raised to his lips.
I should look away or wave… say something.Anything.
But I’m paralyzed. Like a deer caught in headlights. Except the headlights are a six-foot-four Russian mobster who definitely just caught me ogling him.
The corner of his sexy mouth twitches.
Did he just…? No!
The ghost of a smirk is gone before I can process it, and he turns back around, dismissing me as easily as he did on his run, and any other time we’ve crossed paths…
I scramble off the bench, clutching my book to my chest, and practically sprint back to the pool house.
Great, Maya. Just great.
I slam the door behind me and lean against it, my heart pounding so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t burst out of my chest.
He saw me checking him out. Hedefinitelysaw me. And he didn’t say a word. Just looked at me like I was… nothing. Or something… I can’t tell. And that’s the problem.
Tomorrow. I’ll try again tomorrow.
Two
MIKHAIL
