Page 5 of Baby for the Bratva King

“I’m not in denial. I’m working, and I’m not interested in having sex with you.”

“True,” says Felix. “Sex was the last thing on your mind during the interview. In fact, you were the only woman who came dressed modestly. The rest of the candidates were leaning across the desk, wanting a taste. One particular woman showed me her breasts and begged me to hire her, but not you, sweetheart. You’re not one to beg. Not yet, anyway.”

“I wasn’t interested in you.”

“Past tense,” says Felix. “You are now, and there is no shame in that. We all have desires.” Felix spins me around, searching my eyes. “Perhaps I can help you explore yours.” He lowers onto his knees. “Tell me to stop,” he says, diving under my skirt, fingers trailing the hem of my very embarrassing, grandma panties.

“Wait,” I stutter.

Felix takes his hands away, searching my eyes. “What is it?”

“I need to change.”

“No need, we’re about to head into the shower.”

“I’m wearing the wrong panties.”

“In a world full of frills, I have come to enjoy the simple things in life, sweetheart. Take honeysuckle flowers for example,” he says, flexing his fingers over my bikini line. “They smell far better than anything cosmetic.” Felix disappears under my skirt, inhaling my scent like a primal animal.

I shudder, barely able to stand.

“Sweet with a dark undertone.” Felix pins me a look, still on his knees. “I knew you would smell exactly like those flowers, Honeysuckle.”

My mouth gapes open, the world slipping away.

He did not just say that.

“Here,” says Felix, removing my panties. “Step out.” He taps my feet, encouraging me to lift.

I glance down as I step out of my panties, seeing the cotton completely soaked.

Felix looks with me. “Seems like you got yourself into quite the state.”

“I’m fine.”

“Like you keep saying.” Felix stands back up. “Luckily, I’m good at sniffing out lies.” He hooks his finger under the pinafore straps, removing the dress, leaving me in nothing but a black tee.

“Arms up,” he instructs.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest, excitement surging through my veins.

Felix peels the shirt away, the cotton sticking to my skin.

“You’re rather sweaty.”

“It’s hot in here.”

“Indeed,” grunts Felix, his eyes darting across my chest. My bra seems to pique his interest. “What size are you?”

“What?”

“Your breasts, sweetheart. What size?”

“Thirty-four D cups.”

Shadows pass across Felix’s face. “You have the perfect body.”

What about the supermodels with their Pilates bodies and bouncy blowouts? I’m nothing like those girls. When I remove this bra, my breasts fall all over the place, one veering left, the other on its way to Australia.