Chapter 6Hazel
6
Hazel
T he shower is still running through the closed bathroom door. I take a deep breath and steel myself, opening the drawer where I’ve placed a few of my clothes. I have a pink silk spaghetti strap nightgown that stops at my upper thighs with white lace around the bottom hem.
I stare at it, debating whether I should put it on, or just throw on a large T-shirt and a pair of shorts.
When I hear the water turn off a few seconds later, I make a last-minute choice to just be brave and confident and stick with the cute nightgown.
Why not? It seems like all the other decisions I’m making lately are on a reckless whim anyway, what’s adding one more going to hurt?
I go behind the dresser and change into it, tossing my dirty clothes into a hamper David put next to the closet door for me to use.
I glance at the bathroom door and when I hear the knob turning, I sprint to the bed and jump in, throwing the covers up over my body, my pulse racing.
David emerges a few seconds later wearing nothing but a towel. Great. This job is going to be the end of me. My self-control is already wavering, and my heart is a wild animal inside my chest.
David casts a cheeky smile over me and strolls to the dresser on the other side of the room.
His back is facing me as he opens it.
I’m not even breathing when he lets the towel drop to his ankles. My jaw drops when I get a full view of his naked ass. It’s firm, and the muscles in his broad back are sculpted like he was chiseled straight from a piece of marble.
I suck in a deep breath. David laughs. “Do I make you nervous?”
“I just… wasn’t expecting that,” I admit.
He reaches for a pair of boxers and steps into them. He picks up the towel again and turns around, scrubbing the towel through his damp hair.
He looks at me. I will myself to look anywhere but at the bulge in his boxers, but it’s beckoning me, and I can’t help it. I sneak a little glance.
When our eyes lock, there’s a possessiveness in his expression that makes me weak.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says. “We’re both adults here.” He hangs the towel up in the bathroom and waltzes over to the bed.
I gulp. I keep my eyes trained on my lap.
“You should count yourself lucky. I normally sleep naked.”
I pull the sheets up around my chest and slink away from him as he gets into the bed. His weight makes the mattress shift, and I almost roll over against him.
“Yeah, well, thanks for wearing boxers at least. Even if they leave little to the imagination.”
“Are you saying you like what you see?” he asks.
My face is on fire. “Excuse me?”
He eyes me with a wolf-like hunger. “You are one to talk, wearing that nighty.”
“It’s comfortable.” I hear the defensiveness in my voice, but I’m not going to apologize for it.
“Good. I want you to be comfortable.” I get lost in the intense gray depth of his eyes.
This is going to be more of a struggle than I originally planned, but then again, going into this, I wasn’t expecting to have to share a bed with him.
I’m learning that when it comes to David Petrov the mafia boss, surprises wait for me around every corner.
I pluck two pillows from the mountain of them behind me and set them in between me and David.
His grin is enormous. “What’s this for?”
“A barrier.” I pat the pillows.
“You really think we need that?” He gives me a doubtful frown.
“Let’s keep this professional,” I remind him. “It’s what we both agreed to.”
His eyes darken possessively again, but he’s smiling. My pulse races and I’m suddenly feverish. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the night with his body heat next to me. When he just stares at me, I say, “just promise me, alright?”
“I promise,” he says, but he doesn’t move his eyes from me.
“I’m turning out the light now,” I say. “We’re going to sleep.”
“Sleep, yes,” he says, but he sounds as unconvinced as I feel inside.
This is madness. I’m sharing a bed with a bratva boss, lying in the dark. How did it come to this? I have the craziest job in the universe.
I lie in silence in the darkness. The only sound is the faint lull of traffic on the streets below. I’m acutely aware of my breathing. Every muscle in my body is stiff. There’s a low pulse happening between my legs, and I can’t calm my heartrate.
I roll over on my side and push my hand under the covers, and when I press it to the fabric of my underwear, it’s warm and damp. There’s a loud rushing sound through my eardrums and I’m lightheaded, even though I’m laying down. It feels like I’m floating in the ocean of blankets around me, nearly drowning in them.
I lay there for several more minutes, convincing myself that it’s ridiculous to have feelings for a bratva boss, that nothing good can come of it, and that I need to stay on my side of the pillow barricade.
When I can’t take it anymore, when I’m too hot and flustered and aroused, I brave a glance at David over my shoulder.
I can only see the mound of his silhouette, his chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm. I carefully peel the sheets from my legs and climb out of bed, padding across the floor.
I saunter my way into the kitchen, using the light of the moon to guide my steps. I inspect each cabinet until I find the one with glasses and reach for one. Maybe I just need to drink a cold glass of water and pace for a few minutes on the cold marble floor to soothe my nerves.
As I’m turning around with the glass in my hand, the breath rushes from my lungs and my stomach flips. I nearly drop the cup, setting it down on the counter behind me.
David is standing over me. He’s breathing fast. His eyes are glazing with longing. “I can’t take it anymore,” he pants.
“Take what?” I breathe out, every nerve ending in my body tingling.
“The tension,” he whispers as he reaches for me and cuffs his hands around my waist.
A breathless gasp leaves my throat as he pulls me toward him. There’s a sizzle in the air between us that claims me in that moment, and I forget everything else.
My hands graze up his shirtless back, fanning out through his hair. His lips collide with mine in an urgency that’s so intense I can’t see straight.
His tongue is in my mouth, rolling over mine, tangling and fighting for dominance. A low grumble rolls from his throat, and I let out an instinctive moan to compliment it.
The smacking sounds, the flutters of warm breath, the heat left on skin from trailing fingers. It’s all dizzying and sweaty and desperate.
An ache throbs between my legs. I need him. I crave him and it hurts. I need more. I need his mouth to kiss me everywhere.
But then my senses clear in a split second and my palm is pressing against his chest. I’m shaking my head and pulling away.
“No. We can’t do this.” I squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t have to look at him, so I don’t have to see the confusion and the lust in his eyes.
He’s holding my hands. My eyes are closed but I can hear his heavy breathing. He says nothing.
“We need to go back to bed,” I whisper, finally working up the courage to open my eyes. He’s framed in moonlight, a glow in his silver eyes. He’s staring at me as if he’s ready to conquer me.
“David, please,” I squeak.
The desire in his eyes dissolves as if he’s waking from a hypnosis. He drags his hands through his hair, exhaling a slow breath as he lifts his head toward the ceiling, trying to calm himself down.
I take a step back from him, blood swirling hot through my brain.
“I’m sorry,” I manage. “I can’t.”
He nods, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “I know.”
“Just go back to bed.” When he hesitates, I add, “please.”
This gets him into motion. He looks at me, a look as if to say, are you sure on his face. When I nod, he takes a step away from me, turning to back out of the room.
He pauses at the edge of the kitchen and glances at me over his shoulder. His expression is one of pain and conflict. “Are you coming?”
“I need a minute,” I sigh.
He nods and disappears around the corner. As soon as he’s gone, I wilt like a flower, resting my elbows on the counter. I cup my face in my hands, trying to breathe through the adrenaline rush.
My whole body is shaking as desire threatens to level me completely.
I still want him, badly. His fingertips and lips leave a searing imprint on my mouth and skin. I should climb into bed with him and straddle myself on top of him as we ignite in flames of kisses and passion.
But I can’t seem to force myself to move. I’m frozen in place, with one half of my heart telling me to live with adventure and chase my desire.
But the other, stronger half of me is telling me it’s not a good idea, don’t sleep with the mafia boss you are writing a story about.
I pour water from the tap and place the cold glass against the hollow of my neck. I’m burning from within, and I have no idea how I’m going to make it through this experience sharing a living space with this magnetic, gorgeous man breathing the same air and sleeping in the same bed as me. If the gun mob doesn’t kill me first, this living arrangement surely will.