Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I nod. It makes good sense.
Semyon glances at the clock on the wall. “Mandated family dinner in an hour.” Looking to Zoya, he begins to roll up his sleeves. “What can I help with?”
Zoya directs him to stack dishes and puts Stefan and me to work with salad prep. It smells delicious in here.
We lapse into a warm, comfortable silence while Zoya stirs and seasons a pot on the stove. Stefan helps Zoya, and Semyon and I stand side by side chopping.
A part of me feels like a traitor for enjoying anything the Kopolov family offers.
And a part of me aches because of how deeply I’ve longed for the familiar comfort of family and home… just like this.
Semyon walks over and leans close, his voice low and smooth, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t know culinary skills were part of your extensive resume. I thought your talent ended with baking. Should I be worried you’ve got other talents with a knife that I should be wary of?”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Only if you’re worried about being sliced to perfection like these veggies. I’m particularly skilled at using mandolins and choppers. Do you need a demonstration?”
“Is that a threat or an invitation?” he whispers in my ear, his voice laced with hope.
“Yes,” I whisper back.
My panties dampen. I clench my thighs together, a flood of arousal at the memory of what we did in the tiny bed in my childhood bedroom. His hands in my hair, his mouth between my legs, his tongue delving in and out with tantalizing perfection.
Oh god.
How can I let the memory of absolute ecstasy threaten my loyalty to my family?
Semyon chuckles under his breath, and a thrill races through me.
“Careful, little Anya,” he says softly, his voice dipping low. “You keep testing me, and I may have a few things to teach you myself.”
My mouth is dry, and my pulse races excitedly.
I shouldn’t want this so badly. My brother’s right there. I’m his sister.
It’s Semyon.
My husband.
Our hands work in tandem, but the electric tension between us buzzes.
“Ahhh.” Matvei shakes his head, his fingers over the keyboard flying. “Come to papa, motherfucker.”
Semyon throws a carrot at him and hits him square in the back of the head. Matvei groans and mumbles an apology.
“Hey!” I snicker and wince at the same time. That did not feel good. “You have good aim.”
His eyes meet mine, and he shrugs. “I never miss.”
Rodion comes in and asks Stefan if he wants to play catch while the others set the table. I can’t tell if he’s just trying to be nice to Stefan or trying to get out of work.
As the others bring food out and set the table, Semyon’s breath is hot in my ear. “Tell me, little Anya. We’re going to have dinner with my family. Do you still feel me inside you? Can you feel my cum leaking out of your pussy?” My eyes flutter closed, shutting the world out as I’m lost to sensation. “Tell me, Anya. Because I can still taste you.”
I nod, my cheeks flushing hot.
Can I still feel him? Hell, yes, I can.
Everyone seems to come out of the woodwork. Tall, elegant Yana—her husband conspicuously missing. I've been told she made her brother promise not to involve him in their work. Zoya, flitting from table to kitchen until Semyon finally puts his hand on her shoulder.
"There are enough people here to help set that table. Stop doing it all on your own."
She gives me a bashful smile.
"He's right," I say gently to her. She looks like she'd run herself ragged for them, and she's the youngest one. I still remember when she was a child. How old is she now? I know she's gone to university.
We set the food on the table while Matvei has a quiet word with Semyon, and I go to the front lawn to bring Stefan in.
"Dinner is ready," I call out.
A part of me doesn't like that we have to come here every night while Rafail sorts his shit and does whatever he has to, but another part of me is happy to see Stefan have a family. Family dinner. When was the last time we did that?
Stefan shakes his head. "I don't want to come in. I'm not hungry," he says defiantly.
Ugh. I do not want to have a confrontation with Stefan right now. “Stefan." My voice is a warning, just as Semyon steps up behind me.
“She wasn’t asking. Do what your sister says,” he says simply before he turns and walks away, fully confident my brother will listen. Stefan comes in like a scolded schoolboy at the end of recess.
It’s almost infuriating how effortlessly Semyon gets people to fall in line. I guess that kind of authority comes naturally when your reputation does most of the work.