From Russia With Claws
“Even the bath hadn’t relaxed her after that heinousness that called itself an engagement party. She’d managed to drive off the property and make it a few miles before she had to pull off to the side and beat the ever-loving shit out of her steering wheel.
Now she just wished she could get the image of Andrey lowering his lips to Irina’s out of her head. Galina stretched out and snagged a blanket from the back of the couch. She was wearing her comfort pajamas: a black tank top and her fleecy... Stewie pajama pants, washed so many times that they felt like silk on her. She only busted them out in times of dire need. The present moment certainly counted.
If only she could fall asleep. But her mind skipped from the party to Nik and Konstantin, then back to the bricks of Bullet, only to circle back around to Viktor and Irina in their mating clinch. That was something she was never going to be able to unsee. Why didn’t someone make bleach for the brain?MoreLess
Now she just wished she could get the image of Andrey lowering his lips to Irina’s out of her head. Galina stretched out and snagged a blanket from the back of the couch. She was wearing her comfort pajamas: a black tank top and her fleecy... Stewie pajama pants, washed so many times that they felt like silk on her. She only busted them out in times of dire need. The present moment certainly counted.
If only she could fall asleep. But her mind skipped from the party to Nik and Konstantin, then back to the bricks of Bullet, only to circle back around to Viktor and Irina in their mating clinch. That was something she was never going to be able to unsee. Why didn’t someone make bleach for the brain?MoreLess
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