Page 83 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

I close the distance, hands finding her waist, pulling her against me. “Yeah, you did.” I dip my head, voice dropping. “You came into our lives. That’s everything.”

I kiss her, tugging on her lower lip as I pull back, and rest my forehead against hers.

“I’m happy we don’t have to hide anymore,” I murmur.

She smiles against my mouth. “Me too.”

Alexei’s footsteps have quieted upstairs; he’s probably already digging through his books for the longest story he can find.

I turn to Laurel, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We should go out to dinner. Just the two of us.”

Her eyes light up. “I’d love that.” Then she pauses, glancing down at her clothes, the simple blouse and skirt she has on. “After I read Alexei his bedtime story, I’ll go home and change.”

I shake my head. “No need.”

She blinks, brows drawing together. “Leonid, I’m sure wherever you’re taking me is fancy. They’ll have a dress code. I can’t show up like this.”

I step closer, letting my hands settle on her hips. “You look beautiful in whatever you wear. You could walk in wearing pajamas and I’d still think you’re the most stunning thing in the room. And no one would dare have any trouble with what you’re wearing wherever we’re going.”

She laughs, a little disbelieving. “Is that because you own the place?”

“No.” My voice drops lower. “That’s because you’re with me.”

She rolls her eyes, and I crack my palm against her ass, sharp enough to make her gasp and jump. “You know what rolling your eyes at me does.”

She pushes at my chest, half-laughing. “Behave. Alexei could walk out any second.”

I lean down and capture her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. When I pull back, I murmur against her mouth: “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

I take her hand and lead her upstairs. We pause outside Alexei’s door; his nanny is inside, helping him brush his teeth. I tug Laurel farther down the hall to the double doors at the end.

I push them open. She steps inside and stops dead.

The room is large, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights, dark hardwood floors, charcoal walls broken by matte black built-ins and a single abstract painting of a lion in deep crimson and gold above the bed.

The bed dominates the space: king-sized, low platform frame in ebony wood, black linen sheets turned down, pillows stacked military-neat.

Laurel turns in a slow circle, taking it in. “Is this your bedroom?”

“Yeah.” I almost correct her, our room, because it’s going to become our bedroom.

“It’s… huge. And beautiful.”

She stops facing the bed, biting her lower lip. “That’s a very wide bed.” Her voice is teasing, but there’s heat under it. She turns to face me. “But you didn’t bring me up here just to show me your room, did you? Mr. Volkov, are you trying to seduce me?”

I close the distance in two steps, crowding her against the edge of the mattress. “As much as I’d love to rip these clothes off you right now and fuck you into that mattress until you can’t move by morning…” I trail a finger down the side of her throat, watching her pulse jump. “I brought you here for a different reason.”

Her cheeks flush pink. “Mr. Volkov,” she breathes, mock-scandalized. “The manners on you.”

I smirk, take her hand again, and lead her through the arched doorway to the left.

The walk-in closet opens up, long and dimly lit. I lead her past the rows of black suits on one side, shirts on the other, shoes polished and lined up. Shelves of watches, cufflinks, ties in neat rolls.

She stops short when we reach the opposite wall. The section is full. Dresses on padded hangers, silk blouses, tailored trousers, folded cashmere sweaters, rows of heels and flats lined up below, lingerie folded in glass drawers, even a small rack of loungewear. Everything sized for her.

Laurel turns to me, brows knit. “Those… are female clothes?”

I shake my head once. “No. Those are yours now.”