Page 45 of Unbroken

VADKA

I blow out a breath.In my head, I’m groaning, but we have to make this work. I’m an adult, not a horny fucking teenager.

So I nod. “Alright, we’ll make it work.”

If it weren’t for the apologetic look on Rafail’s face, I’d almost think they were trying to set us the fuck up. But I know they’re not. They’re just trying to keep people alive.

Ruthie’s eyes are wide, but she doesn’t say anything out loud.

Fine. I’ll take the floor. Or the couch. Or whatever.

But the second I open the door, I realize what Rafail meant when he said tight quarters.

There’s no fucking way I’ll get a decent night’s sleep on that floor. I’d have to curl into the fetal position just to fit between the edge of the bed and the wall.

I’ll survive.

“I’ll take the floor,” I grunt.

Ruthie snorts. “Yeah, no fucking way, babe. You really think I’m gonna risk my sister coming back from the grave to strangle me in my sleep because I made her husband sleep on acement floor? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Babe? I like that.

Fuck.

She gives me a sharp nod.

“What are we, in seventh grade? We’re gonna share the damn bed, and we’re gonna keep our hands off each other.”

Then she quickly looks away, and her cheeks flush pink. I almost laugh.

She’s so fucking beautiful. And a man has needs. My fist in the shower is nothing like a hot, sweet cunt.

What if I lose control with all this sleep deprivation? What if I get hard? How can Inotget hard?

Because I’m a fucking grown-up, that’s how. Of course I can do this.

She plants her hands on her hips and stares at me. “What are our options? I could go sleep on the toddler bed in Zoya’s room, and we could wake up Luka and make him sleep in bed with you.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’mthe one being ridiculous? You just suggested sleeping on cement.”

“Fine. All right then. There’s a duffel bag of clothes—generic leggings, shorts, a tee, and such—in our bathroom there.”

I point to the bathroom. “Go get ready,” I grumble at her.

“Go get ready,” she throws over her shoulder like a dare, all sass.

And I swear to god, it takes every ounce of control I have not to drag her back by that smart little mouth and put her over my knee. She’s always been a brat. When she wasn’t mine, I let it slide.

But now?

Now I can’t stop picturing how she’d look with my handprint on her ass.

And she’s still not mine.

I fucking hate that I love brats.