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Sergei and Fredericka
Sergei knocked on thedoor 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 in300.
And most importantly of all, more space meant she wouldn’t have to constantly feel like she was inheat, 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.
