Page 79 of Devious Corruption

Grasping her chin between my finger and thumb, I turn her head to get a better look at the scrape on her cheek from that fucking police officer and the cut from the debris.

She maneuvers herself on my lap, sitting sideways on my me so I can see the other side of her neck.

“I took the bandage off. It looks okay today,” she says.

And she’s right. There’s a scab already forming, but she really should keep it covered to keep it clean.

“You should still have a band aid on it or something, to keep it clean.”

“It’s a little cut. I’m fine. Besides, if I put something on it, it’s going to attract attention.”

Something, I’m beginning to understand she’d rather not have. At least not on herself. And especially if it means she might need assistance in any way.

Because to need assistance, to her, would mean she was being a burden.

I wonder if she understands how easily she can be read. Or maybe it’s just me. I read her easily because she seems to be a story written just for me.

Fuck.

I can’t be thinking that way.

She’s an innocent.

After all of this mess is cleaned up, it’s best for her to go back to her world. Safe and sound in the little bookstore and her tiny, homey apartment.

I lean into her, intent on taking a closer look, but she misreads me and meets me halfway. Her mouth brushing against mine. It’s a tender kiss, one probably meant only to reciprocate, but I’m not going to miss my chance.

Sliding my hand along her jaw, I sink it into her hair and hold her tightly as I deepen the kiss. Her tongue meets mine, accepting and submitting to my efforts.

Her hands brace on my shoulders as she leans into the kiss. What started as a gentle touch intensifies to the point that I’m fighting the devil himself to keep my pants on right now.

When I break the kiss, she sighs, her eyes sharp and full of desire.

“We should probably get going. I don’t want to miss Vee,” she says breathlessly.

“Yes. We should.”

My cock will have to wait. But he’s as impatient as the rest of me.

The house Lev takes me to is nothing like I imagined a Russian Bratva boss would live in. It has a welcoming, home-like feel to it.

There’s security, though, and lots of it. When we pulled through the gates of the estate, three men were stationed at a guard house. The long, winding driveway up to the house was lined with trees, and the property backed up to a wooded area.

“How much of this belongs to them?” I ask as I climb out of Lev’s car.

He takes a moment to follow my gaze. “All of it.”

I look up at him, having to hold my hand up to my eyesto block out the bright sun. “Seriously? There has to be hundreds of acres here.”

He makes a face, like he’s calculating in his mind. “About fifty acres outside the house, I think.”

He slips his hand through mine and leads me up the steps and into the house. We’re expected, so the man who opens the door greets Lev with friendliness and tells us everyone’s in the living room in the back.

I try not to look to shell shocked at the expansive beauty of the house, but I can’t help but stare at all of the artwork and woodwork of the place.

“Ah! Here he is now.” Ivan’s the first to greet us as we turn a corner into a great room.

An enormous flat screen television is central to the room, mounted on the far wall over a wood burning fireplace. Several couches and cushioned chairs fill the space. The exterior wall is mostly windows with a glass door leading out into the expansive back yard patio that leads into a garden.