Chelle
ChelleI sleep until ten. I’m not used to sleeping n***d. Or waking up sore and well-used. It all feels deliciously dirty.
I stretch in Nikolai’s wonderfully comfortable bed and look around. He’s not in the bedroom. I hear rustling coming from the living room.
Part of me wants to hide here in the bedroom. Maybe go back to sleep and delay the awkwardness, but I find myself magnetized to Nikolai’s presence. Even though I packed two suitcases of my own clothes, I open his drawers until I find one of his soft undershirts, and I pull it on and pad to the living room.
If I’d forgotten overnight what Nikolai is, it all comes rushing back. He’s devastatingly sexy, looking freshly showered and dressed. He’s sitting on his couch with a laptop and stacks of cash in front of him. I shove dow
