Page 61 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

I nod. “Okay.”

He brushes his thumb across my cheek again, wiping away the tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“But right now,” he murmurs, lips curving into that dark, wicked smile, “I’ve been on a plane for six hours thinking about you. And I’m dying to be inside you right now.”

Before I can answer, he’s covering my body with his.

The next morning, I wake up slowly to the rich, unmistakable smell of bacon frying and fresh coffee brewing.

My body feels deliciously sore in all the right places, reminders of last night’s intensity, and I smile into the pillow before I even open my eyes.

I roll over, reach for Leonid’s black button-down from last night, and slip it on. The fabric is soft, still carrying his scent, him. It hangs past my thighs, sleeves swallowing my hands, but I don’t care. It feels like wearing him.

This is the first time he’s stayed the whole night. I’m surprised he did, and didn’t slip out in the night like he always does.

I pad barefoot down the short hallway toward the kitchen. He’s there. Shirtless. Cooking.

My feet stop moving.

Leonid stands at the stove in nothing but low-slung black slacks, every line of his back and shoulders carved in sharp relief under the morning light streaming through the window.

His dark hair is still messy from sleep and my fingers. He’s flipping bacon in one pan, while stirring eggs in another, biceps flexing, abs tightening with each motion.

Watching him cook is like watching food porn. Slow-motion. Sensual. Ridiculously hot.

He turns, catches me staring, and a slow, lazy smile spreads across his face. He stretches out one hand toward me while turning off the heat under the eggs with the other.

“Hey.”

I walk straight into his arm. He pulls me against his chest, warm, solid, smelling like sex and breakfast, and kisses me deeply.

“Good morning, baby,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Morning,” I breathe back, dazed. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He chuckles, then turns back to the stove to keep the bacon from burning. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me yet.”

“Yeah…” I lean against the counter beside him, watching the way his forearms flex as he plates eggs. “Like the fact that you had someone watching me.”

The words hang between us.

He keeps moving, setting plates on the small table, pouring coffee, before he finally turns to face me fully.

“It’s because I’m a prominent person,” he says quietly, voice steady. “I have enemies. I have people who would hurt me by hurting the people close to me. When I’m out of town, I need to know you’re okay. That’s all.”

I cross my arms. “I don’t want to be controlled, Leonid. I don’t want someone tailing me like I’m a child or a liability.”

He studies me for a long moment, then nods once. “Okay.”

I blink. “Okay?” I expected more resistance.

“I’ll call my men off.” He steps closer, cups my face with both hands. “I don’t want you to feel trapped. I want you safe.”

Relief rushes through me so fast my knees nearly buckle. “Thank you.”

He kisses me again, soft this time, almost apologetic.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask first,” he says against my mouth. “I won’t make that mistake again.”