Page 34 of Bratva's Mercy
“I didn’t just lose my husband. He was brutally murdered. By you and your kind.”
Which begged the question of what the fuck I was doing in bed with him. But maybe that was exactly the place I needed to be. How else could I get close to him?
“I don’t mean to be cruel, Leo, but we can’t undo the past.” He tugged his arm from beneath me and rolled over to the edge of the bed to sit up. A broad hand scrubbed at his face, and he groaned, stretching, causing the muscles in his back to do this hypnotic dance I couldn’t look away from.
“Need to wash up.” He rose to his feet, and I didn’t miss the grimace on his face. He was probably regretting not cleaning up last night. “I might be awhile.”
The bathroom door closed with a quiet thud behind Sergei. I slumped against the pillow, sheet clutched to my chest. Worrying my bottom lip with my teeth, I took deep, even breaths to control my heart rate.
I’d done it. Last night I’d slept in the same bed withSergei and had woken up in his arms. I didn’t even know his last name, though Sergei the Husband Killer worked just fine.
Oh God, I can’t breathe.
I swallowed hard and gasped for air as the sick feeling of betrayal almost made me puke. I was doing the right thing. Wasn’t I? Brad would forgive me. He would understand that I was doing this for him.
But you got pleasure from it, didn’t you?
I reduced the guilt by reminding myself that I was a doctor who knew well enough how the body worked. I had two working eyes and could see quite well that Sergei was a good-looking man. An aura that was second to none, probably harnessed through the dead bodies he was responsible for, clung to him even when he was being imposing. As a gay man, attracted to his type, it was natural that when he kissed me, I got hard.
That didn’t meanIwanted him. Just that my dick thought he felt good against me and that he was a damn good kisser. Far gentler than I would have thought.
The steady rush of water filled the bathroom, a constant white noise behind the closed door. For several agonizing minutes, I remained exactly where I was, staring at it as if the sound alone might explain what I was supposed to do next.
It didn’t.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the cool hardwood floor grounding me as I crossed the room. My pulse began to climb again, that same restless energy simmering beneath my ribs that I had felt the night before when everything between Sergei and me had tipped into dangerous, unfamiliar territory.
Except this time, the feeling wasn’t panic because what I was about to do would happen only because I let it.
I stopped at the night table and pulled open the top drawer. The box of condoms sat where it always had, tuckedneatly in the back corner beside the small bottle of lubricant. My gaze lingered on them for a moment longer than necessary. The last time I’d used them was a few days before Brad died, when I’d asked him to pick up dinner, and he’d brought home a different kind of feast. The kind where I had both him and another guy side by side while I fucked them both.
In the moment, it was fun. Afterward, I felt empty.
This is no different from then.
I was already good at just sex.
Before I could overthink the decision, I grabbed both items and closed the drawer again. My grip tightened around them as I crossed the bedroom and pushed open the bathroom door. Warm steam rolled out immediately, dampening the front of my shirt. The shower had already filled the room with heat, the glass enclosure clouded enough that it hid the figure inside it, though not entirely.
Sergei stood beneath the spray of water, broad shoulders bowed slightly forward as the stream poured over him. Water tracked down the powerful slope of his back, catching in the ridges of muscle along his spine before disappearing lower. One of his hands braced against the tiled wall, fingers splayed wide for balance.
The other?—
I stopped short.
The shower was running, but Sergei wasn’t washing. His head tipped forward, dark hair plastered to his forehead as his other hand moved slowly along his cock. What was he thinking about while masturbating in my shower? Me?
A thrill ran down my spine. For a moment, I simply stood there, frozen by the sight of him. Then my heartbeat thudded harder in my chest. He’d already set the scene for me. How hard was it to bend him over now and give him something that he wouldn’t soon forget?
Not to toot my own horn, but I had more experience than most and nary a complaint to be found in the mix.
I quickly shrugged off my clothes, then stepped forward to pull the shower door open. The glass slid aside with a soft scrape. Sergei’s head jerked up immediately. Water ran down his face as his eyes snapped to mine, the green of them startling even through the haze of steam. His gaze flicked over me quickly before dropping to my hands, to the condom and the lube.
A low, involuntary sound tore out of his throat. I felt the shift instantly. The moment he understood what I was offering.
My nerves vibrated under my skin, but outwardly I kept my expression calm, forcing my breathing to stay slow and controlled as I stepped fully into the shower.
“You can finish all by yourself,” I said evenly, the words sounding steadier than I felt, “or you can let me.”
