Page 47 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

That tension pulled even tighter as we moved with the music, blending in with the crowd around us. Air felt hard to come by from our proximity and from just how suggestive it felt. I wanted him, and there was no denying it.

As his hands explored my body, roaming across my midsection and just brushing against my chest, mental images of our time the night before flashed in my head. I wanted to feel his bare skin against mine again and to soak in just how incredible he made me feel.

Being aware of just how badly he wanted the same thing made it even harder to keep myself off him. It was tempting to give in then and there, but I couldn’t—not in the very club owned by his family.

Turning back around to face him again, I caught his strained expression. I felt the very reason through my leggings.

I gave him a wanton smile, never stopping my movements. “How many businesses in total are listed under the Levov name?”

Yaro leaned in closer to my ear just as he chuckled; his hands glided up and down my waist. “Surely you don’t care about all that. Especially not right now.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. He was so worked up that he couldn’t bring himself to think about the details.

Swaying my hips under his touch, I put a hand against his chest. “I assure you, I do care. If I’m a Levov and will be expected to help with things, then I should know the ins and outs, don’t you think?”

Something moved through Yaro’s eyes at that, as if they were overflowing with lust. That appeasement told me that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

He hooked a hand against my jaw and lifted my face closer to his. A smug smile crawled across his lips. “You’re taking on the role of my wife exceptionally well.”

Warmth cascaded through my body, making me melt.

It was what I wanted to hear, too.

Energized by how magnetized our bodies felt then, I wasn’t interested in stopping my movements. Instead, I continued to rub against him, wondering when he would inevitably falter.

Chapter 18 - Yaro

It was impossible to conceptualize just how hard I was at that moment. With her perfect body moving against mine, letting me feel every inch of her, I was straining against my pants.

There was something about Grace accepting her role in the family that made everything feel more real between us. She was interested in being involved, and that was all I could ask for.

Even if it felt like a great risk bringing her into the fold, I couldn’t deny how sexy it was. Her eagerness to learn felt like a blessing, and if the business could be a sort of foundation for us to grow closer, then so be it.

There were ways for her to be involved without being in the line of fire, and if that was what she wanted, then I would make it happen.

As Grace swayed those luscious hips, grazing my front, I felt minutes away from giving in. I was overcome by how effortlessly she drew me in, and I had half a mind to have her then and there.

The building had several back rooms, and the thought was beyond tempting.

Pulling her in and having a quickie without anyone seeing wouldn't take much. The music would be loud enough to cover our sounds; my cousins had already cleared out.

Looking at me through her lashes, it hit me at once that Grace indeed had power over me. She was enchanting, and I knew she would be the death of me. One way or another, she would have me in the palm of her hands, and I had the feeling we were already toeing that line.

I went to reach for her hand, to whisk her away and let those primal urges take over, but a loud bang, followed by a crash, rang out.

The impact sent a wave of smoke into the room, and screams broke out from the crowd. At once, everyone scattered as they ran to get away from the smoke and from whatever had caused it.

My ears rang, but I pushed through it and grabbed Grace’s arm. With my other hand, I pulled out my pistol and tried to discern what was going on.

Between the screaming and overall chaos, several shouts were muffled by the noise, and I couldn’t tell who it came from.

But men were moving through the smoke. From the way they hurried in, I knew they weren’t ours. They couldn’t be. Not with those attack-like stances.

Clicking the safety off, I raised my gun and fired at the nearest one. The bullet hit its target, and the first one went down. There was a whole wave of men flooding in the club, and I realized immediately it was an ambush.

Targeting our club full of civilians was a low move, but that seemed consistent with the very people we had been up against for the last few weeks.

I had no doubt they were Bruno men.

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