Page 32 of The Bratva's Nanny
I scolded myself. I had to get my head out of the gutters.
There were more important things. Things like getting out of there before things became more awkward.
He clearly wasn’t going anywhere. It was his house, and the man I’d seen in action would never excuse himself from the kitchen for a girl like me. And I sure as hell didn’t want to run away like some scared mouse.
Which led me to another conversation.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
I gestured to the four walls surrounding us. “A man in the kitchen after midnight could mean only two things; he’s either a stalker or a burglar.”
It flickered again, that tiny hint of amusement that illuminated his face and made him appear softer in seconds.
“What about being the owner?” he asked.
“Doesn’t count.” I smiled, and I could almost swear he mirrored it. “What would the owner be doing in here at this time?”
I might have imagined it or not, but Roman moved closer. Like an actual move—with his feet consciously closing the distance until I felt the heat again.
His eyes fell to my chest, and under the warmth of his gaze, my nipples hardened to pebbles.
Triple shit.
Blood rushed all the way up to my cheeks, and my arms flew to my chest, thankfully with the milk carton shielding my arousal from his sight.
“I was hungry,” he said when his eyes found mine again, his voice raspy. “I tasted some of your brownies.”
Feeling awfully aware that standing close to this man was messing with my ability to be rational, I swallowed.
“And how did they taste?”
His gaze flickered to my lips. In them was a brewing intensity I had never seen before, with eyes glowing like embers.
“Delicious.”
A tremor ran through my skin when the heat from his mouth fanned my lips.
I suddenly felt thirsty.
Gone was the appetite for food. Awakened in its place was now a fierce hunger to know if his lips tasted as delicious as those brownies or even more so.
I moved away. Knots formed in the pit of my stomach, and the rest of my thoughts blanked. Butterflies danced, and my heart raced faster.
“Um…okay. Glad you enjoyed it. I, uh…I have to….” I was half-skipping and half-running toward the door already, having abruptly set the milk carton down.
Without looking back, for fear of falling into something deeper than I could handle, I yelled, “Goodnight,” and slammed the door on my way out.
Chapter Nine – Roman
Maria’s bedroom door was locked when I walked by, but the sound of her voice floated down the hallway. Light, melodious, and darn sexy as hell. It made me want to take her mouth, ravish it, and swallow every delicious sound that came out of it.
Four doors later, I saw her in Polly’s room, chatting happily with one hand over my daughter’s hair and the other reaching for a brush on the dresser. Polly sat facing the tall mirror while Maria stood behind her, and they were chatting animatedly about some kid called Riley when I entered.
The brush had barely gone through when Polina’s eyes met mine through the reflection from the mirror. Her lips curved to a wide grin, and she abandoned the conversation with her tutor midway, shooting up to her feet.
“Daddy!” She ran up to me, arms spread wide, eyes twinkling, ready to be hoisted from the floor. I crouched and picked her up.