Page 14 of A Nanny For The Bratva Boss
My face burns. “I wasn’t…”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
His eyes are blazing, his ruggedly handsome face set in stone.
I bite my lip and look away. Because he’s right. I was.
He holds my chin between two big, rough fingers, forcing me to look at him.
“You think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t see you out there every morning, waiting for me?”
“I didn’t think you… I mean, you never said anything.”
“Because you were fucking off-limits.”
My breath catches. “Why… how?”
His one-word answer says it all. “Mitya.”
I swallow with difficulty. “And now?”
The blue in his eyes turns darker, dangerous, fascinating. “Now, baby girl, you’re in my house. And I’m done pretending.”
My pulse is racing. My skin feels hot, tight.
“Pretending what?”
“That I don’t want you.”
Oh.
I make a sound that’s half gasp-half moan. Then, his mouth is on mine, taking advantage of my parted lips. And holy shit! He’s kissing me. Mikhail Maksimov is kissing me. And it’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s hungry. Demanding. Like he’s been starving for this. For me.
I melt into him, my hands fisting in his shirt, holding on for dear life.
He tastes like coffee and something darker. Something delicious, all male, uniquely him, that makes my toes curl.
His lips are full and firm; his tongue, wicked. His big hands all over my body.
When he finally pulls back, I’m dizzy. My lips are swollen. My entire body is on fire.
“Tell me you want this,” he growls against my mouth, forehead resting on mine, breathing just as ragged as my own.
“I… yes. God, yes.”
Without another word, he kisses me again. Even deeper. Like he’s tasting me, gorging on me, fucking taking his fill.
His hands slide down my sides. Over my hips. Grip my thighs. They’re huge. Rough. Fucking perfect. And I want them everywhere.
When he breaks the kiss, it feels like a lifetime has passed.
“You’re not going back to that pool house.”
“What?”
“You’re staying.”
My brain’s still sluggish after the kiss of the century. “Mikhail…”
