She removes my sweatshirt and folds it over her arm. Underneath, she’s wearing a short, floaty blouse that reveals the slimmest sliver of her belly. The neckline is a deep V that highlights her breasts.
“You’re staring, Anton,” she reprimands playfully as she approaches me.
“If you want me to stop, you’re going to have to change.”
She laughs again, a musical sound that zaps straight to my d**k, and we disembark together. We’re walking through the lobby of the airport to the front, where a car should be waiting for us, when Jessa makes an audible gasp and clutches my arm.
“What?” I growl. “Is it Marina? Did you see her anywhere?”
Lev and Yulian tighten around us instantly, drawing close and staying alert.
“For God’s sake, it’s not Marina,” Jessa says, looking supremely self-conscious
