The Bookie (Chicago Bratva 6) - Page 35

“I liked it better when you didn’t talk,” I grump at him, then instantly regret it, because I know it takes effort for our mute brother to even attempt to participate in conversation. “I’m just kidding, man.” I punch him lightly on the shoulder. “Sort of.”

He shakes his head at me, then signs, you go.

“Can I go?” I look around. He and Adrian almost have everything wrapped up.

“Why not?” Adrian asks. He’s young, but he fits into our cell. He’s fearless and brutal. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. And he’s smart. He got caught torching the factory where his sister was held prisoner, but he’s learned since then how to avoid criminal charges. Under Maxim’s direction, he’s become the bratva cleaner. The guy who goes in to erase all evidence from a crime scene.

“I’m going to leave then. Thanks, guys. I’ll pay you out tomorrow when I finish the accounting.” That’s another drawback of not having Dima here.

I take the elevator to the underground parking lot. It’s one in the morning. Chelle will definitely be asleep. My cock stirs as I try to guess whether she followed my directions or not. She’s a little spark plug, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she gives me pushback everywhere she can. Then again, she probably won’t want to test me first thing.

I park beneath the building and take the elevator. It suddenly makes sense why I moved to this floor. Not that I knew something like this would happen, but I made the space for it, didn’t I?

Keeping Chelle in my bedroom and trotting her out in front of everyone all month would’ve been a pain in my ass. The other guys have managed it, but it’s not my style.

Besides, the other guys didn’t plan on letting their women go when they brought them into the penthouse. My deal with Chelle has an expiration date. Which means I can’t show her anything about the organization, or she’ll become a liability.

Ravil may have my nuts over this as it is. I didn’t exactly ask for permission.

I key into my place. The lights are all off, but the feel is completely different.

It’s not vacuous.

I’m not alone.

My cock stirs as I walk to the bedroom. I enter and turn on the light in the en suite bathroom to provide a gentle glow to the room. Chelle is on her side facing the wall, curled into a little ball. I stand at the dresser and remove my jacket, shoes, and watch.

Chelle doesn’t move, but I suspect she’s not asleep. I walk over to her side of the bed and pull the covers down just enough to see if she’s naked. She is. Beautifully so. She’s just wearing a delicate gold chain around her neck with a diamond-studded Star of David attached. She doesn’t move.

Definitely awake.

I lean down and kiss her bare shoulder. “Hey, beautiful.”

She opens her eyes, but looks straight ahead instead of up at me. Something tightens in my chest.

I’m an asshole for making this deal.

I stroke my hand down her side. Her skin is so soft and smooth. “Don’t be scared, little bunny. I won’t hurt you.”

Now she looks up at me. “I’m not scared. It—it’s just been a minute. You know, since I’ve had—”

“You don’t have to perform,” I interrupt, absurdly pleased that she hasn’t had sex with anyone in a long time. “You just have to obey. I’ll tell you what I want.”

She rolls onto her back, and I twitch the sheet down, so I can see her breasts in all their glory.

She catches it but doesn’t tug it back up, her gaze tangling with mine and holding. Her breath stops.

I brush my thumb across the peak of one nipple, and it pebbles. Her legs swish under the covers. “Put your hand between your legs, zayka. Show me how you touch yourself.” I pull the covers down to her thighs and then pace away to give her some space. Standing at the foot of the bed, I slowly unbutton my shirt while Chelle bends one knee up and slides her middle finger between her legs.

I take off my button-down then tug the undershirt over my head. Chelle pushes up on one elbow to watch me. Her gaze dances over my torso then lands on my fresh scar. The last thing I want her to focus on for a variety of reasons.

“Is that… a gunshot wound?”

“Yes.”

“It looks new.”

“It is. No more questions.” I unbuckle my belt and slide it from the loops, then slide off my slacks and boxers.

Her attention goes to my very sizable erection rather than the scar.

All for you, little bunny.

“Protection,” Chelle says quickly in a rusty voice. “That should’ve been a hard limit.”

“I’ll protect you,” I promise. “Are you wet?”

She licks her lips, her fingers working between her legs. “Um… a little. Not all the way there yet.”

Tags: Renee Rose Chicago Bratva Romance
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