ADRIK
The scent of toasted brioche and cinnamon wafted through the air as I stepped into the kitchen, fastening the last button on my cuffs.
She stood by the stove in nothing but one of my shirts, sleeves rolled up, bare legs brushing the cool tiles.
The morning light spilled thtough the window, highlighting her Auburn hair.
I leaned against the doorway, my arms crossed. “You’re really trying to keep me home, aren’t you?”
She glanced back with a smirk. “You think this is enough to keep you from the Bratva world?”
I walked up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and nuzzled the side of her neck.
“No,” I said against her skin. “But it makes me wish I could leave it behind.”
She stilled for a second. Then she flipped the egg in the pan and exhaled. “Then come back in one pie
