Chapter 27 – Ivan
Kiril: It’s a girl!
Boris: She’s beautiful!
Rayko: How’s Katerina?
Kiril: Resting. She’s the strongest woman I know.
Kiril: Pushing that head out...I’m still shuddering.
Boris: Sending pictures.
Rayko: Don’t you dare send—
Rayko: Oh, cute kid. Boris ruins the shot, tho.
Georgi: Proud godfather, right there.
Me: Call if you need anything. I mean it, Kiril.
Kiril: Thanks, boss.
“There you go, buddy, you’ve Christened the shower,” Poppy said, shutting the water off.
I watched the partially opened door. Since it was an outside company we’d hired, and not my men doing simple things like flooring, cabinets, and paint, the work had to be done during the day.
I changed my schedule to be home and sleeping from midnight to six in the morning.
That meant the last three days I’d been around during the day.
Playing with Brady, watching him cook with Poppy, listening while she read to him.
I liked being home.
Rubbing my jaw, I watched as Brady was hurried into bed.
The bathroom was the last room that needed remodeling. The contractor offered to bring us a trailer that had a nice toilet and sink. Poppy didn’t complain once about using the bathroom outside. Brady informed me it was just like camping in his great-uncle’s RV.
This house had new life breathed into it. All because of her. Who would have thought that I, of all people, would be a family man? Looking around the cozy kitchen, with the walls still bare, I frowned.
The bedroom door opened and shut. Poppy came down the hall with a towel hanging from her hand, and draped over her shoulder were the cotton pajamas she slept in.
I’d only seen them on her once, that very first morning.
She was careful to always be dressed or wear a baggy sweatshirt in the mornings.
But I remembered the PJs. And fuck were they sexy.
She made pink lounge pants with cherries hotter than any lingerie.
“What’s that look for?” Poppy stopped short, soulful eyes going wide.
Her timidity found moments like this to show itself. Ebasi. She was still scared of me.
“Just wondering if you wanted to…you know.” I gestured to the walls. “Decorate.”
She blinked rapidly, as if I was speaking a fucking foreign language.
The bedroom door cracked open. Brady poked his head out and smirked.
“What is it?” Poppy rounded on him.
“I just need a drink,” he said, clearly pushing his luck.
Poppy let out an exasperated sigh. “A quick one.”
Brady scurried to the fridge, took a small sip from his cup, slammed it back on the shelf, and then tore off to the room before the appliance door closed.
“Decorate?” Poppy cocked her head. “You want the house decorated?”
“Yeah, you know.” I tugged at the back of my neck. “That girly shit.”
“Girly shit?” Poppy planted her hand on her hip.
I smirked. The shyness was quickly evaporating.
The bedroom door cracked again.
“Brady,” Poppy groaned.
“Tatko didn’t say his prayers. We don’t want him to be a heathen, mama.”
I pinned her with a look. The only way the boy knew that concept was from her.
“He’s going to work,” Poppy explained. “He’ll pray later. Probably.”
Except, I wasn’t going out tonight. I had other plans. Ones that involved wooing my little flower.
“He could say them now. And later,” Brady said with a cheeky grin.
To appease the tiny monster, I bowed my head and folded my hands.
“Lord, bless this house and those who dwell here,” I said reverently. “Protect and keep us. Amen.”
Brady seemed satisfied and closed the door.
Poppy stared at me.
“A bug will fly in that pretty mouth,” I teased. “Or is that an invitation for me to fill it?”
She snapped it closed, cheeks infusing with heat. “So, you want decoration,” she coughed after a moment.
“Yeah, pictures or tick-tacks, whatever you want.” I waved at the wall. “We can get furniture for you to put crap on too. Like pumpkins for fall.”
“It’s knick-knacks, tatko!” Brady called from behind the closed door.
At the same time, Poppy and I responded with, “Go to bed!”
I smiled again. She bit her lip to keep from joining.
“Pumpkins.” She shook her head. “What’s gotten into you?”
The door squeaked.
“Brady! It’s past your bedtime,” Poppy huffed.
I snapped my fingers. “Son. Bed. Now.”
There was no anger in my voice. The command was a firm directive.
Brady scampered back, shut his door, and there was no more noise.
I braced myself for Poppy’s wrath. It never came. She gave me a tired smile.
“He listens to you,” she sighed.
My head lolled to the side. “Is that a bad thing?”
Poppy waved her hand. “No…it’s nice. Being a single parent can be…exhausting.”
A groan caught in my throat. When was she going to admit to herself that she wasn’t anymore? I was here for her.
“Go take your shower. We can talk about the house later.” I rose and went to the couch.
There wasn’t anything on TV, but I mindlessly flipped through the channels to give Poppy the semblance of space.
She hadn’t complained about using the portable toilet, but she’d said more than once how badly she wanted a shower.
I shifted in my seat, thinking of the water streaming on her naked flesh.
My dick pulsed against my jeans. He liked that idea too.
The buzz of my phone interrupted those thoughts.
“What?” I snapped, answering.
“That bathroom done?” Rayko demanded.
I shot a look toward the closed door. “Yeah.”
“Okay, so why aren’t you here?” my second growled. “I’m barely keeping the shit together.”
Fucking hell, if my empire couldn’t run without me for three damn days, what was the point? It wasn’t like I hadn’t been around, either. I ground my molars and stared at the bright pixels on the flat screen.
“We need to do something about the commissioner,” Rayko added, voice lowered. “You said he needed a nudge.”
He did.
The stall tactics, while they made sense to broker the better bargain, weren’t how we played. In the end, the answer was to allow the shopping complex on our turf. Mancini would have already finalized the details.
Damn him.
I might not be the don, but I was no less a mobster for it.
“Tomorrow, we’ll go to his office and—”
A soft moan, almost a whisper, floated from the other room.
“Tomorrow,” I clipped out and hung up.
Rising, I slid to the bathroom door. It was ajar.
My breath caught in my throat. Hot air fanned from within.
The lights were set to dim, and a candle danced on the sink’s ledge.
I pushed the door open. Barely a centimeter.
When no string of harsh words stopped me, I gave it another push and then another.
Frosted glass obscured the line of sight. Another moan filled the space, mingling with the steam. Thick, hot blood made my dick pulse hard.
“That’s it, right there,” Poppy whispered.
She was in the full throws of a fantasy. My fingers gripped the new door, the wood compressing under my touch.
Poppy whimpered. “Ivan, I—”
That was all it took. A summons. Passionate and vibrant. I crossed the space in three steps and pulled back the sliding glass.
Poppy yelped. “What the heck!”
The second showerhead slipped from her fingers. It dangled wildly from the tube, spraying water every which direction, including soaking the ceiling.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” I grinned.
“Get out!” Poppy tried to cover herself with the washcloth and her hands.
Water crashed from the overhead faucet, pelting like a vicious rain. The hand-held wand sprayed upward in a deliberate arc. Steam pummeled me, the smokey heat curling for my body, ready to consume me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall. “No.”
“No!” Her face darkened, anger ready to explode.
“No,” I repeated. “If you’re in here invoking my name, the least you can do is let me watch.”
She shook, livid and wordless.
Her body was a dream come true. The petite frame had curves in all the right places. Those full breasts begged to be sucked. My hands itched to grab her hips, to hold them in place as I drove into her.
To spill my seed deep inside.
To mark her.
To claim her.
Damn, but she was made to be filled. Whether it was under me, riding me, or pressed against me, I would hold her hips in place until she was full of my seed. It was all I could do not to pounce on her right then and there and bury my cock deep inside to breed her.
“Unless…you want me to join?”
That stole the angry retort from her lips.
I cocked a brow. “Is that a yes?”
Her lips flattened. Pillowy and soft, I ached to feel them against mine.
“Lower your hands, flower.”
Slowly at first, and then in a rush, Poppy dropped them. “You’re insufferable.”
I tugged my shirt over my head.
“I don’t know what that word means.” I popped the buckle on my belt and shoved my pants down. Thinking quickly, I closed the bathroom door—all the way this time. I pushed the lock so we would have no unexpected interruptions.
“Excruciating. Intolerable. Unbear—”
Leaning forward, I snatched her to me, cutting off her English lesson by thrusting my tongue into her mouth. She squeaked. But as I moved against her, she began to fucking suck.
I nearly came right there.
Shucking my boxers, I climbed into the bathtub, slapping the glass partition shut. Poppy reached for me, but I caught her hands, forcing them above her head. She hissed against my mouth when I pinched her nipple. The hot air rushed against me. Delicious. Sweet.
“What were you doing in here? Hmm?” I murmured, voice thick with need.
Poppy stared up at me, a challenge dancing in her own eyes. “Plotting your death.”
A rough laugh barked from my throat. “A likely story.”
“No, it’s very plausible.”
There was another big word. Time to silence her vocabulary.
“On your knees, flower.” I hooked my thumb in her mouth, pressing against her jaw, and forced her down.
She sank her teeth into me with a hiss. I dropped my hold on her wrists, gripped her hair tight, and with unforgiving direction, bent her low.
Poppy had to blink the spray from her eyes.