Bratva Wolves Collection
“In fact, all of them do.”
I blush at his words, because all of the paintings were of him, either half-naked with his tattoos showing, Eclipse with his silver eyes, or the last one I painted of him sleeping. He walks over to that one and then looks at me with a frown.
“Is this how you see me when I’m asleep?” he asks in a concerned tone.
I take his hand and kiss his calloused fingers. “You don’t sleep peacefully, Mitya; the first night I woke up next to you, you were groaning and seemed to be having a nightmare,” I say, holding his hand to my cheek.
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