Page 26 of Sexting My Bratva Boss
Her features shift from amazement to excitement and then, unexpectedly, disappointment.
“You don’t like it?”
Her pretty eyes flick my way, then take in the little yard, the rock driveway, the hidden turret on the side of the house where I imagine she’ll soak in sunlight while growing our child. Protected; hidden; happy.
“No, I… I love it. It’s beautiful.”
Taking her hand, I practically drag her up the walkway and to the door. The men follow, still at a distance. The key is styled to look antique, but there’s a lock pad too, an extra measure of security. Aside from the countless cameras on the property and the high-end alarm system that the team installed yesterday morning.
I knew she’d say yes.
Even before that call this morning.
“Then why do you have that look on your face?” I ask her once we step inside, tipping her chin upward, studying her thick lashes and full lips. They’re as enticing as her curves as I ghost my hand over her hips.
But there will be time for that later. Right now, eyes narrowed, I need to know why she looks so forlorn.
There’s a flash of fear in her eyes. Her lips purse: a telltale sign that she doesn’t want to admit to something.
“Audrey,” I murmur in a low warning, pulling her close by her wrist. “I will only say this once: Youdo notwant to lie to me. When I ask you a question, I expect the truth. Answer me.”
Her eyes dart away. They sweep across the furnishings, perfectly curated to fit the home: a narrow console table with a vase of out-of-season hydrangeas, an ornate coat rack, beautiful oak detailing around the door interior.
“It’s gorgeous. It’s exactly what I’d want for myself, but it’s not mine, is it?”
Pressing the key into her palm, I answer, “It is. This is your home, Audrey.”
Her laugh is throaty, but there’s hurt in it too. “Not really though Konstantin. Nothing is mine that I don’t earn. I didn’t earn this.”
Gripping her hips tightly, I lean in, tempted to steal a kiss right here.
“Oh, but you will earn it, Audrey. If you really want it, you’llearnit.”
A flush crawls prettily up her neck from the bow tied at her throat. Reaching up, I pull one end and watch it unravel, exposing her collarbones. When I lean in I can smell her scent: that vanilla citrus, a warmth that draws me like a moth to a flame.
“As long as you carry our child, this will be your home. This is where you’ll be safe.”
When I pull away, there’s a different look in her eyes. Feverish and bright. She searches my face, swaying forward unsteadily, and I think for a moment thatshemight be the one who steals a kiss.
Then she steps back, looking shyly down.
“Can I see the rest?”
With a gesture, I release her. Audrey is tentative at first, then more exploratory as she roams the little halls. The kitchen, then the living room, and entrance to the turret room. On the other side of the house, a dining area and a wood-paneled, walk-in pantry.
I follow her upstairs, tempted to reach out and grip the backs of her thighs with my hands. To cup her ass, take her there on the stairs; the way her skirt bounces with each step is a tease, especially knowing that were I to reach under, find my way up her inner thigh, there’d be nothing to stop me from stroking her warm, needy pussy.
Barefoot since the foyer, Audrey wanders into a full bathroom with a clawfoot tub, the second floor of the turret room—with a seating area that looks down to the first floor, letting light spill in from the wall of windows—and two bedrooms. One is minimally furnished. I don’t want her inviting just anyone to this house, but I’ll explain that later. Or Lev can. I have other things to take care of first.
She passes a window, nearing the master bedroom. Pausing, I gesture to the men outside. They confer, then move back toward their cars.
“Tell me,” I murmur, following her into the bedroom. “Did you follow my instructions?”
She stands on a plush carpet, toes sinking into it, looking vulnerable in the dying light and the large room. The bed is a king, doused in elegant beige and blue bedding with antique rose patterns.
Audrey’s hands fist in her skirt.
I stalk toward her, satisfied at the sight of the undone bow at her neck, her tousled hair, the flush on her cheeks.