Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
But instead I heard myself say, “We can share the bed—-” I saw his eyes widen, and I added hurriedly, “But we’re only going to sleep.” Shit, shit, shit. What am I saying? I looked at the billionaire, whose eyes were gleaming wickedly, and knew he was just as aware of my inner turmoil.
This was such a bad idea, but...
Every time I looked at Sergei Grachyov, he made me want to do bad things.
Chapter Five
Sergei and Fredericka
Sergei knocked on the door once. “I’m coming in.” He didn’t wait for an answer but took his time opening the door. The muffled shriek coming from the bathroom made his lips curve in amusement, and when he stepped inside he saw Fredericka frozen next to the sink, wide-eyed, a toothbrush hanging from her mouth.
“Mind if I brush my teeth next to you?”
She sputtered incoherently in answer, which the billionaire took as an affirmative since it was what suited him. Moving forward, he stopped the moment the sides of their bodies brushed and was rewarded by a muffled whimper.
Sexual inexperience had never been a turn-on for him, but with Fredericka, it had turned into an aphrodisiac. The way she reacted so quickly and powerfully to his every movement made his own body tighten in arousal, and he could only imagine how magnificently responsive she would be when he finally got to fuck her.
Beside him, Fredericka had bent down to rinse her mouth and he gazed at her lazily, admiring the elegant length of her neck. She had already changed into pajamas – white cotton with pink polka dots. His type in the past could be summed up as beautiful and shallow, the kind that he would always be able to control. But ever since meeting Fredericka—-
Practical but feminine was his new type now, the kind that wore cotton pajamas with cute pink polka dots.
“Excuse me.” Fredericka’s mumbled words drew his attention back to her, and his amusement grew when he saw how she studiously avoided his gaze.
Taking a step back to let her pass, he waited until she had taken a step forward before moving again, deliberately bumping into her.
She gasped, her gray eyes flying to him.
“Why are you so nervous, pchelka?” he teased huskily.
“I’m not,” Fredericka couldn’t help lying. In the years she had been living in her smaller-than-average apartment, she had never wished it could be bigger and more luxurious but at that moment, she did wish her apartment had more space.
More space meant she wouldn’t be constantly forced to be in close proximity with Sergei Grachyov. More space meant she wouldn’t be constantly subjected to an up-close look of the billionaire’s impressively muscular body, which was built like one of those a-hoo-shouting Spartans in 300.
And most importantly of all, more space meant she wouldn’t have to constantly feel like she was in heat, with the craziest urge to tear clothes off.
His.
Hers.
It didn’t matter.
Someone just had to be naked and then—-
Shit. Fredericka ducked her head again, heat blooming in her cheeks at the appallingly lewd direction of her thoughts. “I g-gotta go.”
Watching Fredericka rush out of the bathroom like a criminal on the run, the billionaire thought, There’s nowhere for you to run, pchelka. She was the woman he wanted, and there was nothing – no one – he wanted that didn’t ever become his.
Fredericka was in the middle of pulling the covers up when she heard Sergei walk back into the bedroom. A moment later and he was standing in front of her, and her eyes widened when he started unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?” she demanded shrilly.
“I never sleep with my clothes on.” As he spoke, the billionaire had already dispensed with his shirt, leaving him bare-chested.
Her throat went dry, and her heart started hammering against her chest again.
Abs.
Too, too much abs.
“You’re staring at me again,” Sergei drawled.
Shit.
She whipped her gaze away, muttering, “It’s because you’re so ugly.”
But the billionaire only laughed, his ego immense enough to be insult-proof.
“You’re doing this to torment me, aren’t you?” she accused him.
“Not at all,” the billionaire dismissed as he placed his neatly folded shirt on the bedside table. “I’m just ticking another item off our bucket list.” Dark eyes gleaming, he looked at her, saying silkily, “See each other’s naked bodies and not be grossed out.”
Oh!
She remembered reading that line from the bucket list—-
And then she saw the billionaire reach for the buttons of his pants.
Shit.
Fredericka quickly turned around and switched the light off, the same time she heard the faint but distinctive sound of a zipper being pulled down.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Fredericka scooted to the edge of the bed as she felt it dip, and her body tensed when she felt the billionaire get into bed with her.
You asked for this, Fredericka Spears.
Darkness prevented her from seeing anything, but the thought that Sergei Grachyov was lying next to her, without a stitch of clothes on, was tortuous and made her barely able to breathe. Swallowing, she asked in a small voice, “ Are you really naked?”