Page 75 of Bratva's Mercy
“I want it now,” I whined, hips rolling with the twist of his hand. “You can fuck me right here against the wall, Leo. I’ll remember you every time I walk into my house.”
Leo wore a subtle smile before he kissed me again. “The first time we had sex was in the shower. I want to get you into bed. Please tell me there’s an actual bed.”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean? Surely you haven’t been sleeping on the floor?”
“Not quite.”
I shoved my dick back inside my underwear and tugged my pants up but didn’t bother to button up. I led Leo up the stairs and down the hall to the first bedroom on the left. Once at the door, second thoughts crept in. What was I doing? There was a reason I hadn’t brought Leo here yet, because the house might have cost quite a bit, but the inside was bare. I was comfortable sleeping on a mattress on the floor, but I couldn’t expect a man of Leo’s caliber to do the same.
“Why are we not going in?” Leo asked, slipping a hand around my waist and kissing the back of my neck.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
The space between us went so quiet I could hear my own breathing. Leo’s arms dropped, and he took a step back. “I thought you didn’t play games.”
“This is not a game.”
“Isn’t it?” He cocked his head to the side, his lips pursed tightly. “Downstairs, you were all hot and ready for me to be inside you, and now I’m suddenly not welcome? What do you call that?”
Uncertain how to explain the situation to him, I fumbled with the knob and pushed the door open. Reluctantly, I stepped aside to reveal the room. “This is why.”
Leo walked past me slowly into the room, his eyes roving over the mattress on the floor, the sheets twisted from this morning. No curtains hung from the window, no carpet or even a single rug on the floor. The only other thing in the room was a chair next to an outlet with my laptop plugged in.
“This isn’t how I wanted you to see the place,” I said from my position still at the door.
“What?” Leo turned to me. “You think I haven’t slept on a mattress on the floor before?”
“Have you?” From what I knew about him, Leo grew up in a middle-class family. They weren’t exactly rich, but they were able to take vacations abroad and afford to send their son to medical school without him taking out a loan. At least they’d offset the rest of his tuition that his scholarships hadn’t covered.
“No, I haven’t.” Then he grinned. And that smile did something to me.
Leo was always so controlled. Broody. Usually, every word he said was measured, every movement deliberate. Even when he was angry, there was structure to it. But right then,he looked loose, relaxed like something in him had finally unclenched.
That curve of his mouth made my chest tighten and my pulse kick. This version of Leo—unguarded, a little wicked, standing in the middle of my bare bedroom without a care in the world—was far more dangerous than the uptight man I’d been chasing.
When I still didn’t say anything, he crossed the space between us slowly. I watched every step, my breath catching when he finally came to a stop right in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, smell the faint antiseptic scent of the soap that clung to his skin.
I waited for him to speak, to give me a clue as to what our next move would be. Instead, he reached up, curled his fingers into the front of my shirt, and with his other hand, pulled my head down.
His mouth crashed into mine without hesitation. My hands came up instinctively, gripping his hips as he kissed me deeply, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. When he pulled back, my head spun. He stayed close, lips brushing mine as he spoke.
“But I’m looking forward to it.”
The words sank straight into me, heavy and hot. I swallowed, trying—and failing—to steady myself.
He turned slightly, nodding toward the door across the hall. “I’m assuming that leads to a shower?”
“Yes,” I managed.
“Good.”
He stepped back, already reaching for the hem of his nightshirt, peeling it off with an ease that made my throat go dry.
“I’d like to wash up first,” he said, tossing it aside. Then his eyes flicked over me slowly. “And you should get prepped too.”
The way he said it—calm, clinical—shouldn’t have made my knees feel weak, but then his gaze darkened.
