Dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt, I pull the armored vest on, strapping it in place. “Hold on,” Viktor says. He pulls his phone out and takes a photo of me. “What the fuck are you doing?” “Chill, it’s for Mariya,” he mutters as he sends the image to her. A couple of seconds later, he grins and shows me her reply. Holy freaking hotness. You shoot any woman who looks at my man.
i love them
