Page 42 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“Hey,” I say softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

She looks at me, tears brimming in her eyes, and I realize just how much this ordeal has affected her. She’s strong, no doubt about that, but even the strongest people need comfort sometimes.

“Come here,” I tell her, lifting my arm for her to slide under. Genevieve hesitates for a moment before scooting closer, allowing me to pull her onto my lap. I wrap my arms around her, feeling her body tremble against mine. “I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair.

“Damien, I was so scared,” she confesses, her voice shaky. “What if they had caught us? What would they have done?”

“Hey, don’t think like that,” I say, trying to soothe her. “We got away, and we’re safe now. Even if they’d caught us, we would only lose some time, nothing more. This Alexai chap’s a weak man, a greedy man, but he’s afraid of the Zolotov wrath. He’d never have hurt us, just inconvenienced us.”

She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “Why are you doing this, Damien?” she asks softly. “Why risk your safety for a bet in the ring?”

I give a small, wry smile in response to Genevieve’s question, brushing a strand of golden blonde hair away from her face. “Because, Ginny, this isn’t just about a bet in the ring,” I explain. “It’s about the game, the fight. About holding my ground against those who would try to beat me down. It’s about proving that I can make it on my own merit, finally have something that’s mine and mine alone to do with what I want.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispers, laying her head on my shoulder. Her breath tickles my neck, and desire seeps through my entire body like trickling water. “But I’ll never stop you.”

She doesn’t even know how much that means to me. Relief washes over me. I never wanted her understanding, or anyone’s, really. All my life, I kept my fight hidden, for I feared I wouldn’t be accepted, but with that one sentence, I realize she accepts me. “Thank you,” I murmur, laying a gentle kiss on her cheek.

The darkness envelops us like a cloak, making this moment so intimate that I forget a world exists outside this car. I breathe in deeply, taking in the intoxicating scent of Genevieve’s perfume—a heady mix of jasmine and vanilla that wraps around me like a warm embrace. The dim light from the streetlamp outside filters through the car windows, casting a soft glow on her face. She looks ethereal, almost otherworldly.

Genevieve shifts on my lap, her body moving against mine in a way that sets my blood on fire. Her skirt hikes up her thighs, and I gently place my fingers on them, caressing her skin. She seems to sense the change in the atmosphere, her eyes meeting mine with newfound vulnerability. Her breath comes out in shallow pants, fanning across my face and sending shivers down my spine.

“Damien,” she whispers, her voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

“Genevieve,” I reply, my desire for her growing stronger by the second. I close the distance between us, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. She melts into me, her hands clutching at my shoulders as our mouths move together in perfect harmony.

I let out a growl of approval, my hands roaming over her body, memorizing every curve and dip. I can feel her trembling beneath my touch, her uncertainty warring with her need for comfort and safety. I decide to make her forget she ever felt scared.

Chapter 16 - Genevieve

His fingers hike up my skirt ever so slightly until the seams rest right on the curve of my ass. I burn where he leaves his touch, hating it when he pulls away, even briefly.

“Genevieve,” Damien whispers longingly. My name on his lips sounds so sweet, so gentle, that I can’t believe it’s coming from a man whose seemingly always so cold. His hand reaches out to cup my face, drawing me closer to him. I’ve never been touched with such tenderness. I don’t know what to do with it. I think I might just burst from the joy of it. Our breaths mingle for a moment before our lips meet again, igniting that same old fire I’ve come to associate with him and him alone.

“Damien,” I respond breathlessly, allowing myself to be swept away by the intensity of our kiss. He touches my cheeks and the nape of my neck, then teases my earlobe. I clutch the back of his neck, straddle his legs tighter, and tickle his ankles with my toes.

Our hands roam each other’s bodies with an urgency one might feel while looking for an escape from a burning building. My fingers trace the contours of his muscular arms, feeling the power hidden beneath his seemingly lanky exterior.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips, his hands untucking my blouse from the waist of my skirt. He slips his fingers under my clothing, causing my heart to race even faster. I lean into his touch, yearning for more, feeling hot, cold, and dizzy all at once.

“Damien,” I whisper, my voice trembling with desire. “I need you.”

“Your lips were crafted for sin,” he says with a grin, his eyes darkening with lust, and I feel a thrill at the knowledge that I have this effect on him—the calculating, controlled Damien Zolotov. “I intend to savor every inch of you.”

My heart skips a beat as he pulls the blouse off my arms and exposes my skin, his lips trailing along the curve of my breasts, causing my breath to falter. I arch into him, craving more of his intoxicating touch. I sit harder on him and feel his bulge beneath me.

“Easy there, tiger,” he grins. “Or I might not be able to control myself.”

“Who says you need to be in control?” I tease, nipping his neck.

“Your words are as dangerous as your touch,” he mutters, my eyes fluttering closed as I lose myself in the sensations he creates.

But to my surprise, I lose balance and fall on his chest. I open my eyes to see he’s pushed his seat all the way back and lies against it, with me on top.

“Genevieve,” he groans, his strong hands gripping my hips. “Trust me?”

“Always,” I whisper, allowing him to guide my movements. He gently lifts me upwards, and with a mix of shock and curiosity, I find myself seated on his face, my thighs framing his cheeks.

“Relax, beautiful,” he murmurs. He takes his fingers and twists them around the elastic of my panties before shredding them off me in pieces. I hear the fabric tear from his teeth against it. Now, I sit on his face completely bare.

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