Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I decided it would be fun to come back in a live feed. Why not?
I lean in, my heart beating faster, grinning like I’ve kept the biggest secret in the world. “I’m baaaack. And oh, how I’ve missed you all!”
The words echo in the room, playful and familiar, and it feels so damn right. I sigh contentedly.
“I know. I disappeared for a little while. You probably thought I got kidnapped by one of those morally gray mafia boyfriends we’re all swooning over.” I pause dramatically, ignoring the way Rodion chokes on the beer he’s drinking. I’ll have to edit his choking sounds out. I pause, tucking my hair behind my ear. “And I’ll tell you… you’d be not that far off.”
The chat lights up. I can hear notifications pinging, but I ignore them for now. I lean back, folding my arms.
“So… what have I missed? Besides every single mafia romance released in the past month?”
A shadow moves at the edge of the frame, just out of focus. I pretend to be surprised like we didn’t plan this whole thing.
I fight a smirk. “I was going to do this whole video alone, but it seems someone decided to lurk.”
Rodion leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest. He watches me with that dark, unreadable expression that always makes my heart race. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the look of him shirtless, sweatpants hung low on his hips, a black mask covering the lower half of his face.
Zing.
I turn the camera slowly toward him. “See? On brand, girls.”
He cocks his head, eyes narrowing on me. “What is that supposed to mean, little queen?”
At the “little queen,” the comment section goes wild.
I grin. “Exactly what you think it means, sir,” I tease, shifting my focus to him. “Look at you. You are the mafia trope come to life.”
He steps forward, tugging the mask down just enough to smirk at me. “Careful, little queen. You’re skirting the edge. Keep saying things like that, and I might have to play the part.”
I toss the back of my hand to my brow. “No. No. Please don’t.”
The chat explodes as he prowls closer to me and fists my hair.
Yum.
Didn’t know I had a voyeuristic streak, but here we are.
Maybe I’ll need another theme for my account…
“Can you take your mask off?” I say in a low voice, biting my lip.
He drags it off, facing only me, so they can’t see his face on-screen. He drops it on the stack of books beside me. I grin and face the camera. “I would say I created a monster, girls, but believe me when I tell you… he was firmly established in that role before we first met.”
Rodion leans down and brushes his lips to mine. “Camera off now, little queen.”
I lean in with a little cackle of glee and shut it off.
“I am never going to hear the end of this, you know,” I say with a laugh, even as my heart beats faster and arousal pools between my legs. Who knew that bringing my two lives together, my fantasies and hopes and dreams, right here in the open with my real-life book boyfriend, would be so utterly addictively hot?
His gaze lingers, dark and heavy, the corner of his mouth tugging into that smirk that always makes my pulse skip a beat. The soft hum of the city outside buzzes in the background, but here, it feels like we exist in our own world.
“You enjoyed that too much,” I murmur, leaning against the pile of books behind me.
He follows, one knee pressing between my legs, as he braces his hands on either side of me.
Oh yes. Love.
I love that so much.
“I’m not the only one,” he says, eyes flicking to where I nervously tug my bottom lip between my teeth.
I smile, not bothering to deny it.
His hand skims down my side, then back up again, before he hooks a finger in the string of fairy lights.
“Rodion,” I say warningly. “Don’t you—”
“Careful, little queen. You’re not about to tell me what I can and cannot do, are you?” His eyes glint dangerously at me. I bite my lip. “That’s what I thought,” he finishes, tugging the fairy lights into a straight strand.
He bends and snags the hem of my dress with his teeth, dragging it up so he can divest me of my clothes. The little dress I wear falls into a heap at the foot of my bed, followed in short time by my bra and panties.
Oh my god.
I watch, mesmerized, as he loops the string of lights around my wrists, down under my breasts, over the swell of my belly, between my legs, and finishes at my ankles. I’m trussed up like a Christmas tree. I couldn’t get away now if I tried.