Broken Whispers (Perfectly Imperfect #2)(30)

“I think . . .” My throat screams in pain, but I continue anyway. “You are . . . hot.”

I cup his face with my palms and place a kiss on his lips. Then another one. I am obsessed with his lips. I think I could spend hours just kissing him.

“You are crazy, solnyshko.”

Nope, not crazy. Just in love with him.

I don’t care about the scars or his eye. To me, he is the most handsome man I have ever met. Slowly, I glide my hands down his chest and abs until I reach the waistband of his pants and start unbuttoning them. Mikhail lets out a sound that reminds me of a growl, grabs me around the waist, and carries me toward his bedroom.

“Clothes off,” he says as he deposits me on the bed.

I scramble out of my T-shirt and jeans in record time, and fumble with the clasp on my bra while he hooks his fingers on the waistband of my panties and slides them down my legs.

“You are”—he places a kiss on my ankle—“so fucking beautiful.” Another kiss, this one on the inside of my thigh.

I watch him as he bends down, buries his face between my legs, and licks my pussy.

“I'm not much to look at,”—another lick—“but I’ll make sure you never think about any other man, Bianca.”

He thrusts one finger inside me and starts sucking my clit. It’s too much, but at the same time, I want more. He adds another finger, and oh God, I think I’m going to combust. His fingers are straining my walls, his tongue circling my clit, and I arch my back from the bed as a wave of pleasure rocks my body. Mikhail removes his mouth from my pussy, and suddenly, I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance, but he doesn’t thrust inside me right away. Instead, his big body looms over mine, his hand clutching the back of my neck as he looks down on me with mismatched eyes.

“Mine!” He growls as he starts sliding his cock inside so slowly, I feel as if I’m going to lose my mind. “If I see any man touch you, I’m going to kill him, Bianca.” He places his palm on my cheek and thrusts himself inside me, then retreats.

I take a sharp breath and my eyes roll back into my head. Mikhail lifts my legs to rest on his shoulders to get deeper inside of me. He hits that spot again, and I can feel myself getting closer to climax. When he forces my hips up off of the bed and drives into me, tremors start rocking my body. White stars explode behind my eyelids as I ride out my orgasm, while Mikhail continues to pound into me, destroying me in the best way possible.





Chapter 11





Happiness. I don’t remember the last time I felt truly happy. Satisfied, yes. But this thrill, this feeling of weightlessness that fills my whole body, is completely foreign. I look down at Bianca who is snuggled into my side, her hand on my chest, and one leg tucked between mine, and my heart warms.

“I have to get up,” I whisper and place a kiss at the top of Bianca’s head. “Sisi will be here with Lena in half an hour.”

She looks up at me, smiles, and reaches for my hand to inspect my fingers. Satisfied that the Band-Aids are still in place, she sits up and motions for me to turn around. The window shades are rolled up and the whole room is bathed in light, putting every mark on my skin on full display. Still, I turn onto my stomach, and looking at the window, I wait.

She places her palm on my lower back and slowly moves her hand upward, her touch impossibly light. I feel the tingling sensation when her hair falls onto my skin, and then her lips, placing a kiss between my shoulder blades where the scarring is the worst.

“Please, . . . don’t do that.”

The tingling sensation travels upward as the tips of her hair tease the skin just below my shoulder, and she bends and whispers in my ear, “Why?”

“Jesus, baby, how can you even ask?”

“I like . . . you, Mikhail,” she says, her voice barely audible. “Every . . . single . . . part . . . of you.”

The last word gets lost, and the only thing I hear are her short breaths as the chill runs down my spine. I spring up to a sitting position, cradle her face in my palms, and hope I’m wrong. “It hurts when you speak, doesn’t it?”

She looks at me, and nods.

I close my eyes and kiss her forehead. I should be put down like the bastard I am. A selfish, lying bastard who made her hurt herself for no reason.

“You will never do that again.” I put my finger on her lips. “Promise me.”

Her face falls, but she nods again, making me feel even worse. Shit. I get up from the bed, put my pants on, and stand in front of the window, looking at the people hurrying about on the street below. She’ll hate me.

I put my hands at the back of my head and take a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”





Mikhail is acting strange all of a sudden, pacing back and forth in front of the window. He stops for a second, looks at me, then shakes his head and resumes pacing. Did something happen? It must be something bad, because I don’t remember ever seeing him so distraught.

Finally, he stops and turns toward me. “I know you will be mad, and you have the right to be. I hope you’ll forgive me for not telling you right away. I’m sorry.”

My eyes go wide, my jaw nearly hitting the floor as I watch his fingers making familiar shapes while he talks. The way his hands move, quickly and with ease . . . my God, he’s not just familiar with sign language. I know just enough for an everyday conversation. I would never be able to have philosophical discussions and such. But the way Mikhail signs, it’s evident that he’s a pro.