BAD APPLE: The Complete Series (Parts 1-5)

by Kristina Weaver

  By hour five, Ri is so surly and combative that I have to apologize to the nurse.

  “You’re too gorgeous, ya know,” she mutters, licking her dry lips. “I shoulda known when I saw you you’d be trouble.”

  I grin at her grumpy mumblings and lean closer to hear her sleepy tirade.

  “The one time I wanna just screw a guy, he introduces me to his mama. Unfair…cause I like them, ya know, and I like you, but you’re looking for commitment.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “Nah, I went with this guy…got no name…was so close to banging him but he dipped his wick somewhere else and…cause I’m fat.”

  Fat? She thinks she’s fat? For God’s sake I saw every inch of her when I ran into her bedroom and this woman is nowhere near fat. She’s lush and curvy with a flat stomach and hips that make me want to stroke my dick.

  “You’re perfect. And I want more than sex, angel.”

  “Can’t, every guy I go with ends up messed up. Feliks will never allow it, and I don’t wanna love anymore,” she mumbles, batting at my hand when I stroke her hair for the hundredth time.

  “Why?” I ask, desperately needing an answer.

  A project I saw as business has now become so personal as to hold the very future of my unborn children in its slippery grasp. I need to find a way to get my girl, and I need to do it before she comes back to reality.

  Chapter Eight

  Irina

  This shit hurts.

  And to make matters worse, I banged myself up pretty good after waking in the hospital and realizing I had one chance to get the hell out before Misha returned.

  How anyone got him to leave in the first place is beyond me, since the man was quite adamant about staying, but I am eternally grateful. I need to get the hell out of here and get to work.

  Which was painful since I hit my bandaged ankle on the cab door and almost passed out on my apartment stairs when the freaking banister hit my shoulder. Or I hit the bannister. The fact remains I almost killed myself getting up there, and if not for the cabbie I’d be in a hospital bed right now.

  But I am finally at work. Barely in one piece.

  “Ya take it easy now, sweet’eart, ya hear? Ya need to get anywhere, he’se my numba and ole Joe’ll be right ovah. Don’t go callin’ anothah cabbie. I don’t trust them assholes to help ya right.”

  “Aww, Joey, you’re such a peach. Thanks, doll,” I titter, struggling out of the cab with one crutch just before the three evils in my life come streaming out of the shop and almost kill me while looking me over.

  “Oh my God! What the hell happened?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Is this a sex injury?!” Tat yells at the top of her lungs, causing people to turn and gawk at my ankle, wrist, and head in astonishment.

  “No! What the hell’s wrong with you?” I yell, almost falling in my haste to get inside and into the back.

  The customers there all gape and start sweating as I hop in, practically collapsing when I hit the counter near the register and bang my foot.

  “Sonofagun! Watch where you’re going!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Not you, Alfie. I was talking to myself,” I mutter, sweat pouring as I fall into the stool at the register and bite my lip to stop an anguished cry.

  I can’t do anything like this! I’m trussed up with a buggered left ankle, a buggered left shoulder, a pounding head, and an ass that’s howling for mercy.

  How am I gonna bake and mix and do my job?

  I sit for several minutes lost in self-pity and feeling sorry for myself when a brave soul finally sidles up to the counter and gives me a sad look.

  “Do we have to leave without our orders, Ri?”

  “Sorry, Alfie, so sorry,” I titter, taking his order and ringing him up as Nik starts filling boxes.

  We go this way for a good twenty minutes, making people happy, cracking jokes and smiling just for the sake of it, before I look up to see a fuming Russian standing over me, breathing fire.

  “You…you have much explaining to do, woman,” he barks, vibrating with an emotion that looks a lot like anger but also like complete panic.

  Here I am, plain little Irina Velnicova, being stalked by a god of a man who just happens to know exactly how I injured myself while a pack of cackling crones advance on us looking ready to draw blood.

  “How’d she get hurt?”

  “I thought it was a sex injury at first, but now I’m just stumped.”

  “Was it the cat again? I hate that little fucker.”

  “Nik!”

  “Remember when he pretended to be affectionate and you pulled him onto your lap? He almost bit your—”

  “STOP!”

  “Well he did and that woulda been cannibalism,” she mumbles cheekily, totally ruining my bitter mood when she deposits a cup of strawberry-flavored cappuccino in front of me.

  Clever ass.

  The ribbing has distracted Misha and I look up to see his lips twitching, my eyes narrowing in warning when Tatiana sidles closer and looks at him expectantly.

  “My lips will remain sealed as soon as you agree to come home with me and rest.”

  “I have to work.”

  The door to the bakery opens, the bell ringing merrily, and I almost groan when Leo and Vadim sidle in, their faces going white when they see me.

  “Ri, my sweet temptress, what the heck happened to you?” Vadim demands, coming over to inspect me thoroughly before laying a wet one on my lips.

  “Nothing that anyone needs to know about,” I mumble, looking pointedly at Misha who’s fighting not to laugh.

  Leo just frowns and gives me a wave before looking at my shoulder and my head.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Ri.”

  No, what I should be doing right now is making a three-tiered cupcake tower complete with caramel filling and chocolate and strawberry icing for a bachelorette party tomorrow.

  “Don’t worry, I’m taking her home for some rest and those pain pills her doctor gave me earlier,” Misha growls.

  “No—”

  “Fine, you won’t listen to me, angel? I’ll just call Mama. She’ll be all over you with soup and wet kisses in no time.”

  I know Russian mamas. They smother you and feed you nonstop till your body heals in self-defence just to stop you from gaining twenty pounds in three days!

  They also have this terrible habit of over-exaggerating an injury and calling any and all people in their phone books to commiserate about the poor invalid.

  My mama once called an entire phone tree when I had my appendix out, swearing I almost died on the operating table when, in fact, I made it through in an hour and spent less time in the hospital than I do in the bath.

  And there’s my biggest problem right there. If she starts calling people, my mom will be in the know in under an hour and I’ll be overrun by three Velnicovas, to be precise.

  “Fine! But we’re going to my place and I am not taking those pills,” I mutter, shoving the order book at Tatiana with a warning.

  “You will take pills,” he says slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, his accent going deep with every enunciated word. “You will rest, and you will do so in my bed.”

  The silence around us is deafening, shattered only by the wild and altogether frenzied screaming of my hormones when he calmly leans in, slides his arms under me, and neatly hoists me over the counter and into his arms.

  He barks an order to Leo while I am shocked, enthralled, and totally taken with the way he’s cradling me as if I weigh nothing. Total ego boost. And then I do something I shouldn’t do.

  I give in.

  Chapter Nine

  Misha

  I watch Irina sleeping in my bed, her dark hair spread across my white sheets. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to spend hours watching her angelic face as she snores lightly and drools onto the pillow?

  Adorable.

  I stripped her to her underwear about ten seconds afte
r the pills took effect. I use this time to study her and figure a few things out after she let me know that she wants to be my friend.

  Friend.

  As if a friend can do everything I want to do to her. As if a friend can get his cum into her to make babies.

  When I’m under control and firmly settled in the chair beside the bed, I start planning again. And rooting through her bag. What I find there makes my head spin with anxiety, but I squash it down when I realize that she’s on a course of antibiotics.

  And now that I know that she’s into me, like so into me she almost used a piece of plastic to sort herself out, I’m feeling all kinds of confident that I’m on the right track.

  Now I just have to get her under me before Vadi goes Mission Impossible on poor Ri and we end up going to plan B.

  By the time lunch rolls around, I’ve gotten through my workload for the day, gone to her apartment to pack some things and get rid of the bastard pink phallus, and cooked her a soup that Mama swears would cure anything.

  “Hey, angel, you feeling any better?” I ask when she struggles to sit and peers at me through sleepy eyes.

  “Meh, my ass is a goner but my ankle feels a little better now that I’m not banging it into shit,” she mumbles, her eyes going wide when I lay the tray over her lap.

  “Is that…?”

  “Yup.”

  “Oh God, I only get this when I’m at death’s door and Mama’s not angry at me. Thank you!” she moans, lifting the bowl to her mouth and not bothering with a spoon.

  My Ri likes to eat like a normal person, and I’m giving serious consideration to buying her a bib when she finally drains the broth and starts attacking the innards and vegetables with the spoon, her groans of rapture making me regret not rubbing one out earlier.

  Who knew watching a woman attack her meal would be such a turn-on?

  When she’s done, I place the tray on the floor and lean in, wanting to surround her with every inch of me.

  “We need to talk, angel.”

  She starts fidgeting with the bedspread and peeps up at me with those amazing eyes, the honey-brown color doing terrible things to my control.

  “Talk? Listen, Misha, I told you…er, okay so maybe I didn’t tell you, but I thought you understood that I don’t want a big relationship or anything. I mean, I like you and I like your family. I even think Nik may be totally into Vadim or something, but…that’s not the point. I’m totally rambling here. I don’t want a big committed relationship or anything, because…well because I don’t, so you need to stop looking at me like that and promise me we’re friends.”

  “Friends? After you gave me a show?” I tease, watching her cheeks pinken delightfully.

  She has no need for lingerie or looks beneath her lashes, and quite frankly I am doubtful that my little clutz would even know how to attempt such a thing. Thank goodness for us both, I’m seduced by just the memory of her splayed legs and her teary red face.

  “I didn’t give you a show! I thought you were one of the girls. And anyway, how the heck did you know my number? Or where I live? And how did your number get into my phone and on the family ringtone?” she demands, looking weary and put upon all at once.

  Adorable.

  “I am not one of the girls. I know where you live because I asked Vadim to find out from Nikita, and I put my number in your phone and on that ringtone after you scuttled out of my mama’s kitchen looking like the hounds of Hades were on your tail, angel. Hurt my ego that you weren’t even the slightest bit interested in me after the way you ate me with your eyes on Thursday,” I pout, fighting off a laugh at her facial expression.

  She leans over to comfort me, completely playing into my hands.

  “Oh, Misha, that’s not true. You’re completely sexy and I’d have to be dead not to be interested,” she soothes, squeaking when I pounce and pin her beneath my body with a howl of triumph.

  Her hands hit my chest but don’t push me away. I almost come on the spot when she starts stroking me, her fingers scraping over my nipples and sending shocks of electric need straight to my groin.

  “But you aren’t,” I lament, inching myself over her by increments as her distracted stroking keeps her mind occupied long enough to get me between her legs.

  It feels so good as my cock hits the heat of her sex seeping through the sheets. I have to grit my teeth to stop from thrusting into it.

  “I am, really I am. I just can’t do it, though,” she mumbles dreamily as her uninjured hand reaches my wild hair and starts stroking.

  My groan is unstoppable and I lean in, loving the scrape of her short nails over my scalp.

  ‘Tell me why,” I murmur, my eyes zeroing in on her lips as she licks them, my groin begging for friction.

  She’s still dreamy-eyed and snuggly as I apply the smallest amount of pressure at her core, and I love the way she sighs when I lean closer and stop a breath away from her lips.

  “My family’s a bit…”

  Her voice trails off when she notices the proximity of our mouths and I see her eyes widen a second before my mouth crashes down on hers. We both groan at the contact and I take advantage of her gasp, thrusting my tongue into her with a need that is incendiary.

  I want to devour every inch of this sweet mouth and suck on the succulent flesh of her lips, and then I want her to suck on my tongue. All while I fill her with my cock.

  I settle for the heaven of her mouth and possess every inch, groaning my pleasure when she starts squirming beneath me, her heat pushing up into the bulge beneath my slacks.

  I’m so turned on right now, I hardly care that my seed is filling my nuts and threatening to boil up my shaft when she moans again and those soft thighs wrap around my hips.

  I want them there, just as they are, only naked so I can finally see if her skin is as soft as I think it will be. I see myself spending hours with my face stroking along those plump thighs, basking in the satiny glide as I eat her to heaven and back down to earth.

  “Misha…”

  “No talking, angel. Just feel,” I mutter, recapturing her lips and setting in with my slow, heavy grind against her sex.

  She goes stiff for all of two seconds, then realizes and gasps again when I find her clit with the head of my cock and start sliding hard, pushing myself as close to her as I can get.

  I have the crazy urge to rip her bare and fuck her. I want inside so badly, I’m almost terrified by the need. I want to own her, bathe in her, and surround myself with her. I want so deep inside her, she’ll be imprinted on my skin, her scent seeping from my very pores.

  The thought is so jolting I stop thrusting for a second.

  It’s not just about the shop or that deal or my nephew and his happiness. I need this sweet woman to be mine, for my days and nights to be spent with her, loving her.

  I go back to my thrusts and the mad attack of my tongue in her throat when she pumps her hips back up at me. Only now it’s not enough, not by a long shot.

  I need.

  My had slips under the sheet as I’m sucking at her tongue and I inhale her shriek of shock when my fingers slip inside her panties and through her creamy lips, my heart throbbing in time with my cock when it presses into her sheath and is immediately coated with wet heat and such tightness as to strangle the digit.

  Ri goes a little wild then as I keep kissing her, her hips and sex moving over my hand, grinding, seeking her pleasure. And I give it to her, praying to God for the strength not to lose control when she wrenches her mouth from mine and screams as her sheath contracts on my finger, flooding my hand with her heat, her climax so strong that I feel like I’m being sucked into it with her.

  I love this, love seeing her face contort, her skin flushing a pretty pink as she bites her lips and slowly comes down from her peak, her body relaxing enough to release my finger.

  “I-I…” she stutters when I raise my hand and look down at her, grinning cheekily when I take my fingers into my mouth and suck her sweet taste from my
hand.

  She tastes good, all musky clean woman. Pure and delicious.

  “We may be friends, Irina moya, but to deny us this pleasure is not permitted,” I growl, closing my eyes regretfully when the last of her essence leaves my tongue. “Tell me you will let me make love to you and I will ease off.”

  It’s a complete lie, of course. I have no intention or time to allow her to pull away, but I want in her soon, so I am willing to do what I must to get her there.

  She blushes and starts chewing her lip.

  I have her.

  Chapter Ten

  Irina

  It was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. It felt so good.

  For a split second I can’t find my wits to remind myself why I firmly resolved last night not to have anything to do with him.

  The problem is that he’s overwhelming and way too….too everything right now.

  And he wants more, so much more of that mind-blowing pleasure. How’s a girl to say no when just a finger can do that to her? I want more, too. I just can’t deal with the thought of family dinners and strollers right now.

  I can’t say why I’m fighting against commitment with Misha when every other relationship I’ve been in always had me thinking of the future. All I can say is that when I look at him, it scares the hell out of me.

  He’s too much for this small city girl to hold and I know it. And I know, too, that if he keeps this up I’ll fall recklessly in love with a man who will break my heart.

  “Angel?”

  I shake myself and look back up at him, my heart in my throat as I see those clear blues smiling down at me.

  “You’re going to hurt me,” I whisper finally, meeting his eyes.

  “No. Angel—”

  “You will. You won’t be able to help it, Misha, just as I won’t be able to help falling for you. We’re not the same and you know it. You’re a fast and loose kind of guy with a lifestyle to suit, and I’m just a twenty-five-year-old baker with two cats and a family that makes my life impossible. We don’t suit.”