Page 30 of A Nanny For The Bratva Boss
“Mikhail…”
“After we fuck.”
My breath catches. He rolls me on my back, settling between my thighs, all big, hot, macho badass… and okay, fine. Christmas can wait.
* * *
An hour later, we’re finally out of bed. I’m wearing one of Misha’s shirts and a pair of leggings. He’s in jeans and nothing else, looking like some kinda real-life wet dream. Sun-kissedskin from his bare-chested outdoor runs, thick, defined muscles, tattoos… The fabulous view makes my kitty clench like she didn’t just get thoroughly satisfied. Hussy.
When we finally make it downstairs, I ask, “Where are your Christmas decorations?”
He answers without even raising his head from the cup of coffee he’s making me, “Don’t have any.”
“You don’t have any decorations?!”
“Nope.”
“Baby, it’s Christmastime.” He shrugs his boulder-sized shoulders, handing me my mug before returning to the coffee machine to make his own. “So… we don’t have a tree. Or lights. Or… anything?” He just shrugs again. Gah, this man! I stare at him. “You’re telling me you’ve lived in this giant, beautiful house for years and you’ve never decorated for Christmas?”
“Yep.” He takes a sip of his drink, completely unbothered.
“Why?”
Another blank look. “Just me, no reason to. Do Christmas at my sister’s or folks’.”
“Well,” I reply, clapping my hands. “That’s changing today.” Misha raises an eyebrow. To which I nod resolutely. “We’re getting decorations, a tree, the whole thing. Buildingourtradition.”
“Babe…”
“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Mikhail Maksimov. It’s Christmas. Our first Christmas together. And you said this is my home now.” I give him my best impression of Sofia’s puppy-dog-eyes.
He stares at me for a second. Then sighs, shaking his head, his lips twitching. I grin hugely, fist pumping the air.
* * *
Two hours later, we’re at the mall, in a Christmas store thatlooks like Santaandhis elves threw up all over it. Mikhail looks like he’s two seconds away from glaring the overly cheerful store owner to death. And I’m having the time of my life.
“What about this one?” I hold up a glittery snowflake ornament.
He grunts.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I singsong and toss it in our cart.
His eyebrows raise when he watches it land on an already high pile of a variety of jolly items. “Do we really need this much shit?”
“Yes, darling.” I poke his side, still smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Maya…”
“Shh. Let me have this.”
Misha shakes his head, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.
By the time we leave, the trunk of the car is packed. We’ve got lights, ornaments, wreaths, stockings, and a massive tree strapped to the roof from our stop at a Christmas tree lot.
“And I’m the insane one,” Mikhail mutters as we drive home.
I just giggle, squeezing his hand that’s resting on my thigh. He faces me for a second. And the way he’s looking at me… all soft and warm, like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him… It makes my insides melt.
