Chapter 20
TWENTY
I can’t sleep.
Again.
Brilliant.
Is it the jet lag still messing with my system, or am I just afraid to be alone?
I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, but my mind refuses to quiet down, racing with thoughts of work and the guys. I could go upstairs, but I resist the urge. I don’t want to let whoever took my work take my home from me too.
It’s my sanctuary, dammit.
And it’s not fair to ask them to sleep at my place so I’m not alone all the time, is it? Still, I remember how bloody amazing it felt having Oliver here. His strong arms around me all night, making me feel safe and protected.
God, I’m so hopelessly in love with him. It’s pathetic.
With all of them.
But I was exhausted then. Maybe that’s the key—tire myself out until I can’t keep my eyes open. With a frustrated sigh, I throw off the covers and change into my workout gear. The building’s gym should be empty at this ungodly hour, perfect for a bit of late-night exercise.
But when I push open the gym door, I freeze in my tracks. There’s someone else here. A man with his back to me, lifting weights. My heart races for a moment before I recognize those unruly black curls.
Misha.
Of course, he’d be here at this hour—the man never sleeps.
I approach him quietly, not wanting to startle him midlift. He’s got headphones in, completely lost in his workout and with music blaring in his ears. I reach out and gently tap his shoulder, bracing myself for his reaction.
Misha jumps, almost dropping the weight on his foot. “Shit,” he exclaims, yanking out his earbuds and whirling around.
“I’m so sorry!” I say, feeling terrible for scaring him. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”
But Misha just laughs, his dark eyes lighting up as he sees me. “What are you doing down here at this hour?”
Before I can formulate a witty response, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me, soft and sweet at first, then with growing intensity that makes my toes curl. When we finally break apart, we’re both a little breathless, and I feel heat rising in my cheeks.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I explain, smiling at him and trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
Misha grins, giving me that devilishly handsome smile that could melt ice. “Well, want to join me for a late-night workout session?”
I nod, and he helps me set up a workout routine, explaining each exercise with patience and enthusiasm, just like Oliver did.
His playful encouragement keeps me going even when my muscles start to protest. I feel a little lighter just being with him, his infectious energy chasing away some of the darkness that’s been plaguing me.
When we finish a particularly grueling set of squats maybe thirty minutes later, Misha looks at me seriously, his jovial expression fading. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Really? What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?”
I sigh, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “I think… I’m afraid to be alone right now. It’s silly. I know I said I wanted to be alone tonight, but I can’t help it.”
“You know you don’t have to be,” he says gently, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “We told you that.”
“I know, but it feels unfair to make you guys stay around all the time,” I admit, biting my lip and avoiding his gaze. “You all have your own lives, your own flat. I can’t expect you to drop everything for me.”
Misha chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Haven’t you realized by now? You are our life. You’re not making us do anything, Bug. If it were up to us, you’d have all of us constantly around, hovering like overprotective mother hens. You’re the one keeping us at arm’s length.”
He’s right. I am the one doing that.
I yawn, the fatigue finally catching up to me after our workout. Misha notices and smiles softly. “Getting tired?”
“A little,” I admit with a shrug, trying to play it cool even as another yawn threatens to escape.
“How about this,” he suggests, his eyes twinkling with affection. “I grab a quick shower at your place, then I sleep in your bed and hold you until you drift off. No funny business, I promise. Sound good?”
The thought chases away some of the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”
Besides the no funny business part.
I haven’t stopped thinking about us in the cramped back seat of the Tesla, and I can’t wait to find out what having Misha in a bed would be like.
Back at my apartment, he showers while I get a drink of water, trying not to think too much about the gorgeous man currently naked in my bathroom. When he comes out, hair damp and tousled, and with just a towel slung low on his hips, the only thing I can manage is to stare.
Goddamn.
He steps up to me and pushes my chin up to make me look at him. “Your turn,” he whispers before leaning in for a quick peck. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
I stumble into the bathroom and take the quickest shower in the history of showers, only to come out and realize I don’t have anything to wear with me in here.
So I wrap a towel around myself and walk into the dimly lit bedroom, only to find Misha’s bitable, naked ass hanging out of the covers, and he’s breathing deeply already.
Of course, now he’s able to sleep.
Pulling off my glasses and putting them on my nightstand, I decide that since he’s naked, too, pajamas are an unnecessary barrier between us and opt instead to slide into bed as I am, my skin eager for the contact.
I nestle back against him, my back to his, and sleep begins to beckon me.
Yet, as I drift on the edge of consciousness, Misha turns, his arms encircling me.
“I promised I would be holding you,” he murmurs, a low rumble that stirs something deep within me.
His fingers dance across my arm until they brush the bareness of my breasts, and he freezes, his breath catching.
“Fuck, Bug,” he whispers, the word more of a reverent sigh than a curse.
“I don’t have any fresh clothes here. What’s your excuse?
” In a swift, fluid motion, he pulls me close, his chest a solid wall against my back.
“God, you feel so good,” he confesses, his lips brushing my ear, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine.
“I love it when there’s not an inch of space between us. ”
My head whirls from him, and I love it.
His kisses on my shoulder are tender yet ignite a fire within me when he urges, “Try to turn off your smart, pretty head and sleep.”
No, I don’t want to sleep now.
“Say something nice. I just want to hear you talk.”
He’s always been so skilled with words, and right now, I’m craving the comfort they bring. I need some new ones to obsess over in my head.
“I thought I just did.” He chuckles, the sound a vibration that resonates through both of us.
“More, please,” I insist, unable to mask the neediness in my voice.
He promised he’d be whatever I needed. And right now, I need him to be everything tender and kind and cut through the noise of my fears and wrap me in his words.
“You’re kind and generous. You put people before yourself. Every day, you do a million nice things that make me admire you more and more. The way you were ready to sacrifice everything for your brother. I can’t imagine being so selfless. And I’m so grateful for you.”
His hand roams my body, a possessive caress that leaves a trail of heat in its wake.
“Speaking of things I’m grateful for… God, your body.
I can’t fucking get close enough.” He punctuates his words by nuzzling into my neck, his breath a scorching brand against my skin.
“And let’s not forget how brilliant you are.
It’s like you’ve got that magical mix of intelligence and charm that just drives me wild.
You’re just… amazing.” He breathes out a laugh. “Mmm. I’m a big fucking fan.”
“I’m a big fan of yours, too,” I whisper, squeezing his forearm.
“I’m glad. Now I’m going to hold you, and you can stay in my arms and relax a little, okay? I’ve got you.” Despite his words, the hardness of his arousal presses against me.
“What’s that?” I tease, pressing back against him.
He groans a sound that’s equal parts frustration and arousal. “You know what that is. I can’t help it when you’re lying naked in my arms. But I told you, no funny business.”
Defiantly, I reach back and encircle his cock, my fingers exploring the firm length of him.
He’s deliciously long.
“You’re so fucking naughty.” He gasps, his hips thrusting reflexively into my hand.
“What fucking time is it?” Misha tries to crane his neck to see the clock, but when I tighten my grip and stroke him with more purpose, he lets his head fall back with a moan of surrender.
“God, that feels so good… you’re a little temptress, aren’t you? ”
His hand covers mine, guiding my movements, his breathing growing more erratic with each stroke.
“Give me a kiss while you do that,” he commands in a guttural whisper.
I turn to face him, making it easier for our lips to meet in a fervent clash.
“My naughty girl,” he breathes out, his words punctuated by the rhythm of my strokes.
“Fuck, yes, just like that… give me your other hand.”
He takes my free hand and draws my fingers into his mouth, sucking on them until they glisten with moisture before guiding my hand to his cock. “Use both hands… yes, that’s my girl.”
Why is this so fucking hot?
I have to press my thighs together to still the prickling sensation there while he leans in to kiss me again in a fierce dance of tongues and teeth, and I feel him unraveling with each passing second.
But then he stops me.
“Now it’s my turn to have a little fun with you,” he murmurs, his hand wandering across my breasts, teasing my nipples into hard peaks. He continues his exploration, his fingers tracing a path down my stomach until they reach the heat between my thighs. “Shit, you’re wet.”