Page 64 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

We’d crossed a line today.

One I never thought would be a problem, and it had nothing to do with sex in the car.

25

PEYTON

The first week passed in a kind of blur and went straight into the second week.

Some nights, I stayed in my room.

Other nights, I spent the entire night in the playroom.

We slept together, all four of us in the massive bed. I hadn’t gathered up the courage to openly slide into bed with just one of them in the penthouse.

That almost felt like a betrayal–which was ridiculous–but I couldn’t shake the thought.

So when at home, it was either everyone or no one. And I found I didn’t mind.

When I went to bed alone, I slept like a dream. Same when I slept with them. Different but good.

Honestly, I’d never slept better in my life. Morning coffee with Misha became a daily trend.

To the point he was now pouring my cup as I rounded the doorway and entered the kitchen.

When I asked how he knew it was me, he smirked the most devilish grin and held out the cup.

Somewhere in between the days, I stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. I stopped worrying about whether they’d care whether I snuck into the kitchen at midnight.

In fact, just last night, when I’d gone down to grab a Pop Tart, I’d almost run into Viktor.

He’d caught me just before I slammed my nose into his chest, laughing a sleepy grumble as he balanced a delicate China cup in his other hand.

The rich aroma of lavender mingled in the air, and I’d almost fell over at the sight of the giant man holding a tiny teacup.

He’d stared down at me, not even bothering to hide or even look ashamed.

I decided then and there that none of it mattered. We liked what we liked, and no one was going to judge me for my decisions.

Elena caught up with me at the coffee station just after eight, her elbow knocking lightly into mine. “You look different. New sleep schedule?”

“You could say that.” I laughed and added a splash of creamer to my coffee.

Misha, Viktor, and Leo had not yet entered the elevator to go up.

They stood in front of it, chatting and acting busy.

They were waiting for me without making it obvious, and they were so adorable, I couldn’t stop grinning.

I focused on Elena. “Good different or bad different?”

She looked me up and down. “Good.” After a dramatic eye roll, she poured her coffee and studied me. “Annoyingly good, actually.”

My smile widened, and I lowered my voice. “I told my family.”

“You did? And?”

This was the Elena I remembered from when we first met. Intense but kind.