Stolen by the Mob Boss : A Russian Mafia Romance (Bratva Hitman), Nicole Fox [best ebook reader for surface pro .txt] 📗

She sighs. “I know. I’m just impatient. You know how I get.”

Our trip through the city leads us back to the house, and I’m almost disappointed it doesn’t last longer. Today’s a beautiful day, one we wouldn’t ever get back in New York. We should be out soaking up the light.

Lucy has work to do, and I need to start looking for a job.

We’ve been living off the money I have in my account, which is plenty, but I don’t like the idea of sitting around the house all day. I need to do something. I need to be productive or I’ll lose my fucking mind.

Lucy stops by Nana’s room to check in on her when we get home. It’s like looking at a completely different woman. The therapist and doctors we’ve hired have made a big improvement on her. Just last week, she was able to go shopping at the grocery store by herself. In New York, that was something Lucy had to do.

“You both worry too much about me,” she says, passing us and heading into her bedroom. With the whole left wing of the house to herself, she’s made this place like a home of her own.

“Where are you going?” Lucy asks.

“Me and some of my girlfriends are going to the Olive Garden for lunch and our book club meeting.” She pulls her coat on and reaches for the romance novel on the table. It looks like something from the eighties, a man lounging on a bed with a busty redhead in his arms. I crack a smile. My mom read books like that when I was a kid.

“Don’t stay out too late, okay?” Lucy says.

Nana gives her a look. “Girl, don’t you go bossing me around. I’ll stay out as late as I’d like.”

“You tell her,” I smirk.

Lucy’s eyes go wide and she looks between us. “Wow, so now you’re both ganging up on me? I see how it is.”

Nana leans forward and kisses her on the cheek, giving her a quick hug. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Once she’s gone, Lucy turns to me. “So, I’m pretty hungry... Think I could seduce you into making me some breakfast?”

I suppress a smile. “Depends on what you’re offering, miss.”

She looks down shyly as one of her hands rises to the buttons on her flannel. “Well,” she demurs, sliding the button free. A flash of skin, tan and creamy and smooth, appears where the fabric parts. “Maybe this will get me some coffee?”

I nod, slowly. I can feel my stiffness in my pants, starting to strain against the fabric. “Just coffee?”

She pushes another button loose. Now, I can see the gentle swell of her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra. I want to run my tongue over them, trace kisses down the flat expanse of her belly to the edge of her denim shorts. To explore everything below and between. “How about this?” she asks, her eyes darting up to meet mine for a moment, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“I could maybe do some eggs, for that.”

She wrinkles her brow as if she’s deep in thought. “I am very hungry, though, sir. I don’t think just eggs will be enough.” With that, she undoes the last button of her shirt and slides it off of her shoulders. It falls to her feet in a soft puddle, but my eyes are fixated on the curve of her shoulders to her breasts to her hips. Her body is screaming for my touch, but I force myself to stand still, leaning against the countertop in the kitchen, hands trapped in my pocket.

I feel that familiar heat, that familiar hunger, that hasn’t changed since the first time I saw Lucy. Since the night in the motel when I pinned her beneath me and wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything in my entire life.

But I make myself play out this game a little farther.

“Well, bacon seems reasonable, now,” I add in a husky voice.

Lucy bites her bottom lip, and my cock jumps at my zipper. It wants out. It wants her.

Her hands slip down her belly and she hooks her thumbs in her jean shorts. She tugs down a little, revealing the frilly edge of a pair of pink panties. My breath catches in my throat, but I don’t let her see the war erupting inside of me. My face is calm and smooth.

“Pancakes are going to cost you, ma’am.”

“Oh?” she whispers. “This much?” She undoes the button of her shorts.

I shake my head. “A little more.”

“This much?” she repeats. She pulls the zipper down. I can see the upper rim of a damp patch in her panties. She’s soaked through. She is fighting the same battle in her head that I am – temptation versus teasing – and I see that she’s on the verge of losing, just like me.

My stomach is churning with need – for Lucy, for her warmth, for her touch. Almost there, almost there.

“Just a bit more.”

She wriggles her hips and pushes the jeans down the tan length of her legs, stepping out of them towards me, one foot stepping delicately in front of the other. She has only the panties on now, and I let my eyes rove up and down her body. This is my woman, my love. The light of my world. The flower of my life.

And I am dying with the urgent need to fuck her senseless.

“Very close to complete,” I say. “But the price for syrup just went up.”

She smiles again. I’m squeezing the marble countertop behind me, white-knuckling it, and I’m half-afraid it is going to snap off in my hands. Lucy closes the last few feet between us with slow, careful steps, eyes locked on mine the whole time, until she’s inches away from me, looking up into my gaze. I watch her soft lips move as she whispers, “I hope this can cover the difference.”

She