Ruslan’s Bedroom.
Polina stretched, but it was strangely uncomfortable. Her head wasn’t resting on a pillow, but on something warm and firm. She was lying on her side, yet her leg was thrown not over the blanket but over a thigh. And as she stretched, she pressed her groin against his side.Her last memories of the evening were wine and Ruslan.
The girl opened her eyes and immediately sat up.
She was in bed, in a black nightgown, wrapped in Ruslan’s arms. Her mind refused to provide details of how she had ended up there. There was one more question—why wasn’t she wearing panties? Had he deceived her and deliberately drugged her?
“Good morning, my Luna. Why are you so startled? Did you have a nightmare, Polya?” — the man asked with concern.
“What happened yesterday?” — she asked, uncert
