Red Reaper - Soldiers of Fortune [book one]

Chapter TEN

Lucky O'Cléirigh

I take a step forward and The big bear's hands slink around my waist before he easily lifts me up and sets me on my backside.. Watching as he clears away the clutter on the bench with the sweep of his hand, pushing it all to the far end away from us and I breathe a sigh of surprise.. "Oh!"

He peels off his perfectly fitted black jacket, folding it neatly to be set aside..

"Do you mind?" He asks begins to unbutton his crisp, white shirt, slowly, one by one the pearly buttons pop open, revealing a mosaic of inked symbols, puzzled together over his muscle..

"No.." All I can do is shake my head and swallow the nervous lump in my throat..

His chest is darkened by a luxurious peppering of thick dark hair and decorated with two eight-pointed stars at either side of his collarbone.. The stars are surrounded by more symbols and letters on his sculpted flesh, and there is a scripted name written in loooove cursive above his heart, 'Ivar.'

His markings spread down his abs as well as up his neck and he wears some badge-like military markings on his shoulders..

"W-What are you doing?!" I stutter nervously, watching him take off his clothes..

"Relax, Kiska.. I am hot, thiz iz juzt becoming comfortable.. I promise not to touch you.." He tosses his pressed shirt over the back of one of the dining chairs and I snicker at his cocky confidence.. When he catches me staring he smirks.. "You like to see what I am, Da? There iz nothing I hide from you, Luchenskaya.."

"I like it--Yes.. Oh god, you're-- you're so--um-- hot.." I rasp, my throat feeling as if it is closing up.. I've never seen a man in better shape, he is a prime example of fitness, all carved abs and swollen biceps..

"You are much sweet, Solnyshko.." He laughs.. "Now, lay."

Tense and trembling I lay back on the stone cold counter and he places his folded jacket kindly beneath my head, making me comfortable..

"Khoroshiy.. Beautiful, Malishka.. For you, I will be-- az you like--romantic.." He growls as if he is unconvinced by his capacity for romance as he begins to pace beside me, four steps one way, then four steps back the other..

"For me?" I squeak and my heart soars at the softness of his usually stern tone.. He doesn't seem to realise that to me he is already the most romantic man I've ever known, just the way he is..

He is the kind of man to give me his coat when he is cold.. To walk on the outside of the sidewalk.. To open the door for me.. To fill my glass before pouring his own.. To insist that I eat when I visit his home.. To speak to me in plain truths..

He is a gentleman and in my mind there is nothing more romantic than good manners..

"Da.. I am going to tell to you what I would be doing to you if I waz thiz fortunate man you wait for.. Would you like to know?"