In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(40)

Now, Lauren understood the difference in thread counts as she grasped fistfuls of the sheets covering Mishca’s bed. He soon followed her down, easing between her legs as he loomed over her on straightened arms.

He took his time with her, pressing lingering kisses along her jaw and lower until he was nuzzling her neck. Lauren drew in a startled gasp as she felt his tongue flicker out against the sensitive spot just below her ear, an area that she had no idea could illicit such a response from her as she released the fabric in her hands to clutch at him.

Mishca’s hand slipped between them, trailing down the front of her body, over her throat, pausing to skim between her breasts, down her stomach, playfully dipping into her navel, until he stopped where the curve of her hip met her thigh. As his hand drifted precariously towards her inner thigh, Lauren felt a sudden rush of panic.

“You’re tense,” Mishca whispered, stilling his movements, his accent the thickest she had ever heard it.

“I’m…uh…well, I’m a virgin,” she rushed out before she lost her nerve.

“Are you?” His question was innocent enough, but when she felt him smile against her neck, she smacked his arm lightly, making him laugh.

“I already knew, moy dorogoy.”

She huffed. “How does everyone know that? It’s like it’s written on my forehead.”

Mishca rested his weight on his elbows, still smiling at her. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want you still. ”

Lauren glanced away, feeling embarrassed. “But I don’t want to disappoint you. You bought my dress and—”

He frowned, cutting her off, “Why is that noteworthy?”

With a curled finger beneath her chin, he brought her face around to meet his eyes. “You thought I would want sexual favors in exchange for the dress? You insult me.”

“I never meant to.”

Mishca sighed with a wry grin. “Perhaps we moved too fast, yes? Next time we’ll go slower. God knows what you would think if I bought you diamonds.”





Chapter Thirteen:


Unexpected Complications


Bright rays of sunlight streamed through the cracks in the navy blue drapes, waking Lauren as she turned over, feeling the heat on her face. She stretched out, feeling around the bed beside her to where Mishca had been the night before, but his side of the bed was surprisingly empty, the sheets slightly cold.

She sat up wiping at her eyes and looking around the room. It was quiet throughout the apartment, and when she called out to Mishca, he didn’t answer. She then spotted a folded note on the table next to her.

Went to get breakfast, be back soon.-M

With that reassurance, she climbed out of bed, heading into the bathroom. It was spotless, much brighter in the daylight. Bulbs outlined the mirror, flaring to life at her entrance, even the tiled floor heated up beneath her bare feet. There was a double vanity sink with silver fixtures, a large walk-in shower with multiple shower heads, and an enormous bathtub that looked more like a jacuzzi.

She found a stack of clean towels and washcloths in a cabinet, and even a number of travel size toothbrushes in a drawer. She tried not to think too much into this, wondering how many people—namely women—he entertained. She stripped out of her clothes, turning the numerous knobs in the shower.

If she ever got rich and was free to design anything in her dream home, she would definitely be getting this shower.

Once she was done, she hunted through his massive closet, hoping he wouldn’t mind her borrowing his clothes. She found a loose pair of sweatpants and pulled them on, rolling the waist a couple times to get them to stay up. He really did have a multitude of white T-shirts in one of the drawers, and they all smelled like him.

Dressing, she took a tour of the apartment. Unlike the cooler color scheme that was throughout Mishca’s bedroom, the living and dining rooms were both decorated in warmer shades. Matching brown leather recliners, red throw pillows, dark brown wood flooring, and the occasional knickknacks that looked like they had never been moved from the spot they were in now. There was also a state of the art kitchen that rivaled any she had ever seen.

Deep red drapes hung from the floor-to-ceiling windows, held away from the glass by bronze hooks, revealing a spectacular view of the park and water below.

The doorbell rang suddenly, followed by two sharp raps at the door.

Thinking it was Mishca needing help with the bags, Lauren hurried over, a smile already in place, but it quickly melted away at the sight of the man in front of her.

He was older, possibly in his late thirties, with a beard and oily black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. He might have looked less intimidating if he were not built like a professional wrestler, with a jagged scar running from his temple around to the corner of his mouth.

He scowled at her, scratching his face. She noticed the tattoos inked across the back of his hands. Small X’s along his knuckles—a few with double the number—and, of all things, a cat in a hat.

“Who are you?” He asked, dark eyes looking her up and down. He was Russian, his accent much grittier than Mishca’s, but she didn’t see any resemblance between the two.

“Um, I, uh…” Lauren couldn’t finds the right words as her gaze darted to the bedroom and back to his face, contemplating whether or not she could make it to her phone before he caught her.