“Everything okay?” he wraps his arms around me and presses me into his chest.
“Yeah.” I bury my nose into his neck, inhaling his scent. “I want random chairs to be put in every room. That bench-press machine you have can go.”
“You weigh half the weight I usually lift, malysh.”
“They say it’s more effective to work with less weight, but more often.”
“Do they?” His hands caress my back, gliding downward until they reach my ass. “I like that new workout plan. A lot,” he says and squeezes my butt cheeks.
* * *
The wedding is extremely boring. Tons of guests are milling around with glasses in their hands, chatting and fake smiling. I don’t know a single person here, so I spend most of the time people watching and commenting on the outfits to Roman. He always finds my babbling amusin
