Page 56 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

VESPER

Some people use guns.

Some people use knives.

Tonight, my weapon of choice is lingerie.

I’m wearing a black silk teddy that barely qualifies as clothing. The fabric is so sheer it’s practically invisible, and the underwire pushes my breasts up to the damn ceiling. The designers clearly had one goal in mind: make sure my nipples are the star of the show.

Well, mission accomplished.

The hemline stops just below my ass, which is wrapped in what I’m pretty sure is the thinnest thong in existence. I spent ten minutes trying to figure out which way was up. By the time I wrestled it on, I needed a nap.

But I didn’t stop there.

I blew out my hair until it fell in perfect waves. Applied just enough makeup to look naturally gorgeous. And then came the real challenge: these stilettos that I’ve been practicing in for thirty minutes straight.

Good thing I did the practice rounds, because I’ve already face-planted three times. Two of those falls left me sprawled on the floor with my heels pointing at the ceiling like some kind of demented yoga pose.

But now? Now, I can actually walk across the room without eating carpet. My strut has swagger. Confidence is through the roof.

Things are looking good.

I’m posed against the window seat, one leg crossed over the other in what I pray looks effortlessly seductive, when Kovan finally walks through the door.

He, on the other hand, looks like hell. His tie hangs loose around his neck, his shirt is wrinkled, and there are new lines etched around his eyes that weren’t there this morning. Whatever he’s been dealing with today clearly kicked his ass.

But all of that exhaustion vanishes the second he sees me.

His mouth actually falls open. “Vesper?”

“Hello, husband.” I let my lips curve into what I hope is a sultry smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

He switches on another lamp and shrugs out of his jacket. His eyes never leave my body. “Jesus Christ. You look…”

“I look what?” I stand up slowly, making sure to arch my back just right.

“Fucking incredible.”

I turn toward the window and make a show of closing the curtains. My ass is on full display, and I make sure to take my time with each panel. “This old thing? I just threw it on.”

Before I can turn around, he’s behind me. His chest presses against my back, and I can feel exactly how much he appreciates my outfit. His breath is hot against my ear.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, wife.”

His hands slide around my waist, but I spin out of his grip before he can get a good hold on me. “Who says I’m starting anything?”

He starts unbuttoning his shirt, and I have to bite back a groan. This man is completely unfair. I’m supposed to be the one with the advantage here, but then he goes and starts stripping, and suddenly, I’m struggling to remember my own plan.

“What game are we playing?” He tosses his shirt aside. “Because I’m not in the mood for games tonight.”

“Too bad.” I grab his hands and push him backward into the armchair by the window. “I am.”

I dance around him, just close enough for him to catch glimpses of skin, but far enough away that he can’t actually touch. Every time he reaches for me, I spin away.

“Vesper, goddammit…”

I stop in front of him and do a slow turn, making sure he gets the full view. “Do you like it?”

His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the armrests. “I’m about to tear it the fuck off of you.”

“You’re not tearing anything. This was pricey.”

“Worth every penny.” His eyes are glued to my chest. “Now, get over here.”

Instead of obeying, I step closer and brace my hands on either side of his chair. He immediately leans forward and captures one of my nipples through the silk, his tongue working magic that makes my knees wobble.

“Want to hear about my day?” I reach for his belt buckle.

He’s already breathing hard. “Sure.”

I free his cock and wrap my fingers around it. He’s hard as steel, and the sound he makes when I start stroking should be bottled up and sold as an aphrodisiac. ASMR for horny housewives like me.

“Charity and I had such a fun day planned,” I say conversationally, like I’m not currently giving my husband a handjob. “Mani-pedis, terrible movies, Chinese takeout. You know, best friend stuff.”

“Sounds great.” His hips are already moving, pushing into my grip.

“It would have been great…” I adjust my rhythm, just enough to make him sweat. “… if it had actually happened.”

When I freeze, so does he. “What do you mean?”

“I mean your security team wouldn’t let her through the gate.” I arch up and run my tongue along the edge of his ear. “Want to guess why?”

He groans and grabs my ass with both hands. “Fuck, Vesper…”

“Because apparently…” I bite his earlobe hard to get his attention. “… you decided I’m a prisoner now.”

I release his dick and step back so fast he nearly falls forward.

The change from pleasure to confusion is instant. He stares at me like I just slapped him. “What the hell just happened?”

“ You happened!” I throw my hands up. “Your stupid new security rules happened! Charity couldn’t even get past the front gate because you’ve decreed that no one gets in or out without your personal approval.”

He’s still sitting there with his cock out, looking completely lost. “I didn’t know she was coming over.”

“I shouldn’t have to clear my best friend with you, Kovan.”

“The new team has strict protocols?—”

“Where’s my old team?” I cross my arms. “Where are Aleksei and Filipp?”

He won’t meet my eyes. “Reassigned.”

“To where?”

“Other duties.”

“What ‘other duties,’ Kovan? Because last I checked, keeping me safe was their only job.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “The new team is better trained.”

“The new team won’t let me leave the house!” My control is starting to crack. “I wanted to pick up Luka from school today, and they refused. Refused! I’m supposed to be his mother, and your goons wouldn’t let me pick up my own son.”

“It’s temporary?—”

“I don’t care if it’s temporary! I care that you made this decision without talking to me. I care that you’ve turned our home into a prison and I’m the only one who doesn’t get a say in it.”

He finally tucks himself back into his pants and stands up. “Vesper, you almost died at the clinic.”

“But I didn’t.” I step closer to him. “I didn’t die, Kovan. I fought back, and I survived, and now, you’re acting like I’m made of glass.”

“I can’t go through that again.” His face is raw with anguish. “I thought you were dead. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but imagine my life without you in it.”

The fight goes out of me all at once. I climb back onto his lap and frame his face with my hands. “I know you’re scared. I know you want to keep me safe.”

“Then let me,” he begs.

“Do you trust your men?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then let them do their jobs. Let them keep me safe while I live my life.”

He pulls me closer, and I can feel him getting hard again despite our argument. “I don’t like having this conversation when you’re half-naked.”

“Then we better finish it fast.” I grind against him just enough to make him hiss. “What happened at the clinic was bad luck. Lightning doesn’t strike twice.”

“It might.”

“Or it might not. And I can’t live my entire life waiting for the might-nots.” I cup his face again. “This marriage is supposed to be a partnership. Partners don’t make unilateral decisions about each other’s lives.”

“What if we can’t agree?”

I smile and snake my fingers down to tap-dance along his hardness again. “Then you’re going to get very familiar with your right hand.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“That’s marriage, baby.” I squeeze just enough to make his breath catch. “You use your strengths; I use mine.”

“Your strengths are completely unfair.”

I laugh and kiss him, just a quick taste before pulling away. “Meet me halfway.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his hands moving restlessly over my back. “I should have talked to you first.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“And maybe the new protocols are a little excessive.”

“‘A little’?”

“Fine. A lot excessive.” He sighs. “We can adjust some things.”

I throw my arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“You’re trouble.”

“The best kind.” I wiggle against him. “Want to punish me for being so difficult?”

His grin turns wicked. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He stands up with me still wrapped around him and dumps me on the bed. What follows is the kind of punishment that makes me want to misbehave more often.

Much, much more often.