All Chapters of Revenge On My Ex, Accidentally In Bed With A Billionaire : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

PASHAOne would think I’d be in a far better mood.I should be. Daphne blushed hard when she saw me at breakfast. As if she knew that I knew, though there’s no way in hell that could be true. She doesn’t have to worry; her secret’s safe with me. For now.What’s killed my good mood is the fact that Senator Brennan is now blatantly ignoring my calls, texts, emails from my corporate office, everything. As if he has any grounds to dodge me, the same man who can blow up his marriage and his career at the snap of my fingers.“I’ll be out most of the day,” I warn Daphne as I pack up to leave. “Call me if you need anything.”I try my best to ignore the way her face falls as I tug my coat on and grab my keys. What more does she want? I have shit to do. Lives to fucking ruin.But fuck me, I can’t leave. I get to the front door and find myself unable to leave the penthouse with this nagging feeling that I’ve somehow disappointed the mother of my unborn child.The trek back to the kitchen is wort

DAPHNE“Ma’am, please. You know I have orders.”“I know.” I take another sip from my travel mug and offer Pasha’s driver a sweet smile. “But as I’ve shared with you before, I’d rather drive myself.”Lev sighs and keeps his hand outstretched as if I’m going to give up and finally return him the car keys. “I understand, believe me. But what the boss says, goes.”“I’ll be sure to tell the boss that it’s not your fault.”Am I a shit-stirrer? Not usually. I’m more of the type to keep her head down, move in the shadows, don’t draw attention, et cetera. I don’t like causing waves.What do I like?Pasha’s reactions to my stubbornness, for one.We’ve settled into a nice, easy tempo at home that should have me feeling comfortable and relaxed. He comes home for dinner. We slide into small talk and do our best to avoid sharing details about our respective days.It’s what happens after bedtime that keeps me on edge.And it’s not his fault, necessarily.I’m the one having depraved sex dreams about

“Th-thank you,” I stammer again. While waiting for it to cool, I watch her slide the slice of honey cake toward me before she carves out her own. “So, uh… what has Pasha been telling you about me?”Asya smiles at me knowingly. “Worried what I must think about you? Some random young lady who got pregnant with my son’s baby and is now living in his home?”I blush more, but she’s pretty much hit the nail on the head, so I nod reluctantly.“I should be the one thanking you, docha.”Safe to say that’s not at all what I’m expecting. “Sorry?”Asya laughs. “I’ve been so worried about that boy. All work and no play turns anyone into an absolute ogre. I love my Pasha dearly, but he was becoming unbearable.” She gives me a sideways smile full of warmth and mischief. “Until he met you. So yes, I am very thankful to you, and for you.”This is definitely not the interaction I expected to have with his mother. I mean, I’m not sure what all I really was expecting, but this warmth and kindness and ove

I grab a serving platter for her to put the pierogies in, thinking she’s going to fry the rest of them up. But she shakes her head with that signature grin and hands me the spoon.“Nyet, you need to do this. I can tell you how, but you won’t learn until you do it yourself.”“Know any good Russian takeouts?” I joke as I accept the spoon. She playfully whips a kitchen towel at my butt and goes back to assembling the salad.I have to admit, I’m really enjoying this. All of this. The cooking, the learning how to actually cook, but most of all… Asya herself. She’s the perfect example of everything I’ve never had with my own mother: loving, compassionate, with a great sense of humor and the patience of a saint.And the way she treats me? I can’t dwell too much on it without feeling my eyes start to sting with unshed tears. I always knew I was missing something in my relationship with my mother; I just never had a good basis of comparison to identify what.Now, I do.And as nice as it is to

“Very naughty girl.” He nips the underside of that breast before kissing a trail to my right one, where he does it all over again.“Pasha,” I hear myself whine. “Pasha, please…”Those strong hands smooth down my back until they hook into the waistband of my sweatpants and panties. He doesn’t let go of my nipple with his mouth as he slides both items down my thighs and drops them in a pile at our feet.Part of me feels so self-conscious about the changes in my body. My stomach is fuller, my breasts are larger—hell, I think my thighs have grown a bit thicker, too. I’m not the woman he first undressed in that storage closet.But just when I’m ready to plaster a self-conscious hand in front of my belly, Pasha seizes my wrist in a grasp firm enough to shock a surprised little yelp out of me.“If you think for even one second I’m letting you hide any part of yourself from me, you’re fucking delusional,” he snarls. “I want to see all of you. Every last, beautiful inch.”He descends with kiss