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And black lace.
And white silk.
Panties. Bras. Teeny tiny slips.
Kirill has a box of women’s lingerie under his bed. And mixed amongst the spillage are at least twenty condom packets and three bottles of lube.
“How is it going down there?” Kirill asks. This time, it’s impossible to miss the joy in his voice.
He knows exactly what I’m looking at right now. And he loves it.
Play it cool, I think.Don’t let him see you sweat.
Somewhere in the back of my head, I hear my mom’s voice reminding me to rise above it. But jealousy and disgust braid my insides so tightly I can’t think straight.
I don’t want to rise above; I want to go where he is.
I want to join him in the mud.
I want to join him in hell.
12
KIRILL
I almost forgot about the box under my bed. I haven’t had a need for it in ages.
But Rayne doesn’t know that.
I can see the curve of her back from where I’m lying on the back. The moment she realized what was in the box, she stiffened. She drew in tight like a cat about to pounce.
The little princess doesn’t know how transparent she really is.
“How is it going down there?” I ask.
Rayne drops back on her haunches and looks at me from the end of the bed. Her head and shoulders just rise above the mattress, and I do my best not to think about the geometry of that. The many possible ways we will fit together in this room.
Because we will.
Just not yet.
“I found a box of trash under your bed,” she snaps.
“Oh no,” I drawl sarcastically. “I was hoping you’d work for me for a bit longer before finding out how filthy I am.”
Her blue eyes narrow. “I knew exactly howfilthyyou were the moment I met you.”
“That’s why I hired you. To help me clean up.”
“An impossible job,” she mutters.
“You’re not wrong there. Some old dogs don’t want to learn new tricks.” I lie back on the pillows, my hands tucked behind my neck. “You can just dump all of that in the garbage.”
“In the garbage?”
“That’s what you do with trash. And you said it’s a box of trash, right?”
She hesitates, unsure what to do now.
