Page 46 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

VESPER

The cold, wet towel on my forehead is embarrassing enough.

The aloe vera joint cream sitting open on my bedside table makes it worse.

But having Kovan walk in while my legs are propped up on a pillow? That’s just perfect timing.

I try to swing my legs off the bed, but my eight-month belly has other plans.

Everything takes twice as long now. Getting up from chairs requires strategy.

Putting on shoes involves yoga poses I didn’t know existed.

And try as I might, hiding evidence of my discomfort from my overprotective boyfriend has now become impossible.

“Hey, you.” I force brightness into my tone. “What are you doing home so early?”

Kovan’s gaze finds the cream. Then my elevated legs. Then my face, which probably screams guilty.

“I came to check on you.” He steps closer. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” I take a breath and push myself upright. Pain shoots through my calves, and I can’t hide the wince.

“You are not fine.” He’s at my side instantly, hands on my shoulders, pushing me back down. “You need to get off your feet. Let me see them.”

“No, I’m fine, I just—” A sharp cramp cuts off my protest.

He lifts my leg before I can stop him, his fingers probing my swollen ankle. “They’re swollen. How long have you been dealing with this?”

“I haven’t?—”

“Don’t lie to me, Vesper.”

I hate how well he knows me. “A few weeks.”

“A few weeks ?” He stiffens. “And you didn’t think to mention it?”

“No. Because I knew you’d react exactly this way.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, trapping me. “I think it’s time.”

“It is not.” I try to pull my foot away, but he holds firm. “It is not time, Kovan. I have a month left before maternity leave.”

“You have a month before your due date,” he corrects. “That doesn’t mean you work until the kid literally falls out of you.”

“Actually, that is the plan.”

“Vesper—”

“I have patients who need me!” The defensiveness in my voice surprises even me. “It’s bad enough I’m taking six months off. I’m not taking more time than absolutely necessary.”

“Look at your feet. Really look at them.”

I glance down. My ankles are swollen beyond recognition. When did that happen?

“You had a twelve-hour surgery today. Twelve hours on your feet in your condition.”

“How do you know that?”

“I get a copy of your schedule every day.”

“Oh, God.” I drop my face into my hands. “First of all, stop that. It’s an invasion of my privacy. And second?—”

His mouth covers mine before I can finish. The kiss is demanding, thorough, designed to scramble my brain, and very effective in that department. His tongue slides past my lips, and suddenly, I forget what I was arguing about.

When he pulls back, I’m dizzy and he’s wearing that satisfied smirk that means he thinks he’s won.

“Where were we? Oh, right—I had just convinced you to start maternity leave early.”

I blink at him. Did he convince me? When did that happen?

I press my palm against his chest and push him away. “You didn’t convince me of anything. I’m not stopping work now. I have four weeks of surgeries scheduled and post-op care to manage.”

“Didn’t you hire a new doctor to handle your patients?”

“She doesn’t start for another week. And then I need to prep her, make sure she understands?—”

“The woman was head of Pediatrics at Johns Hopkins, Vesper. I think she can handle it.” His hands slide up my thighs and my brain starts scrambling again. “Just imagine if you were already on leave. We could do this every day.”

“What do you mean?”

He coaxes my sweatpants down, his fingers finding the edge of my underwear. Except there isn’t any underwear, because getting it on this morning seemed impossible.

“Kovan…”

“No panties? Someone’s feeling rebellious today.”

“Stop.” I squirm, trying to reinforce my rapidly crumbling willpower.

I’m a surgeon. Discipline is supposed to be my thing.

So why do I turn into putty every time he touches me?

“Think of all the personal attention I could give you,” he says, his fingers tracing patterns that make my breath catch. “Breakfast in bed. Foot rubs. Bubble baths.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” I wave my hands frantically. “You fight dirty.”

“I fight to win.” He presses a kiss to my neck. “Come on, baby. Stay home with me. We can prepare for our son together. Finish the nursery. Maybe take a prenatal class.”

“You’d actually let me take a prenatal class?”

“Well, I could bring the instructor here. It’s safer that way.”

I grab the pillow next to me and smack him with it. “Your paranoia is showing.”

He emerges from behind the pillow, grinning. Then he pushes me back and settles over me, careful of my belly. “Have I mentioned how sexy you look lately?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, sure, I’m really hot with this giant belly.”

He nuzzles my neck, and I can feel his arousal pressing against my thigh. “It is hot. You’re growing my child. You’re glowing.”

“There’s no glow, Kovan. It’s called sweat .”

“It’s called beautiful ,” he insists, kissing his way down to my chest.

My breasts have doubled in size over the past month, and they’re sensitive to the point of ridiculousness. When he takes my nipple into his mouth while rolling the other between his fingers, I nearly come off the bed.

“I know what you’re doing,” I manage to say as he positions himself between my legs. “And it’s… it’s… ”

He slides into me in one slow thrust, and my back arches off the mattress.

“It’s totally going to work,” I finish breathlessly.

He chuckles, moving slowly, deliberately, while his mouth works on my breasts. I dig my nails into his back, trying to anchor myself as sensation builds.

Maybe going on leave early wouldn’t be the worst thing. I am growing a human being. Don’t I deserve to be pampered a little? My patients would be in good hands.

And apparently, so, would I.

“Wait! Kovan,” I whisper as he suddenly stops moving. “What happened? Where did you go?”

He pulls back with that infuriating smirk. “I’m not giving you another orgasm until you give me what I want.”

My mouth falls open. “You are evil .”

He shrugs. “A man does what he has to do. How badly do you want to come?”

I wrap my hand around him and squeeze. “If I don’t come, you don’t, either.”

“I guess not.”

I look down at him, already aching with need. The man’s body is art, and we both know exactly what it can do to me. Infinite pleasure. That’s what.

“Kovan, I have responsibilities?—”

“Yes, you do. To yourself and our baby. And to me,” he adds firmly. “It’s time you let me take care of you. In every way.”

“So, no sex until I give in?”

“That’s the deal.”

I shake my head. “I can’t believe I’m negotiating my career for orgasms. I’m a terrible doctor.”

“A good doctor knows when to take care of herself. This would be that time.” He groans as I continue stroking him. “You’re killing me here.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to have your way with me?”

“I plan on having my way with you until neither of us can walk,” he promises. “But not until you agree.”

My resolve crumbles completely. My body is calling the shots now, and she’s about to go through hell in a month. She deserves some fun while she can get it.

“Fine!” I snap. “You win.”

“You’ll start maternity leave?”

“I’ll email Richard today. Now, please, for the love of God, finish what you started.”

He grins and slides back into me, and within minutes, I’m falling apart around him, my body contracting until I tease his release from him, too.

I have to admit, it’s not a bad way to begin maternity leave.