Page 21 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

“Excited?” I asked him.

“You’re blushing,” he said and placed his fingers on my neck. “Your heart is beating fast.” His knuckles skimmed along my collarbone.

Then he slipped an arm around my waist and yanked me closer to his chest. He smelled so masculine and earthy. I wanted to bury my face in his neck and sniff more of him. Suddenly we were back in the kitchen, pressed up against the sink, his lips on my neck.

The coil formed below my stomach and an unwelcome warmth settled between my thighs, pooling, until my panties were soaked. The rest of my words got stuck in my throat and I forgot what I wanted to say.

“Cat’s got your tongue?” He chuckled, and I had a tough time deciding if Logan’s laughter sounded better.

His blue eyes reminded me of the ocean on a stormy day, and yet the heat in them could incinerate me. He licked his full lips. So full … tempting.

“It’s a good thing if you’re tongue-tied. Because that’s how I feel when I see you; speechless, ... You make things so fucking difficult, hermosa.” His sexy voice rumbled.

He leaned in deeper, and I felt the steely outline of his erection pressing against my belly, and a burning sensation consumed my body, igniting some dormant desires.

I gulped for air, panted between breaths, and unconsciously fisted his shirt when he unexpectedly swooped down and covered my lips with his.

My brain tapped out; I closed my eyes.

He tasted like vodka and the tail end of a cigarette. So hot and soft at first.

But he didn’t just kiss with his mouth. His hand cupped around the back of my neck, and his other hand came up to cradle my jaw. He held me captive as he plundered me. This breath-stealing kiss was everything Mark. My fingers trembled. And I melted into him. He was rough, fierce, and specific. The way he bit my lip, tasted my tongue, moved against my mouth like a hungry predator feasting on its prey.

His blunt, domineering demeanor should have put me off, but it had the opposite effect. Although I wasn’t sure if any other man could pull off the neck grab and authority the way Mark did.

I moaned against his mouth, and his hand fell from my jaw, he grabbed my ass roughly and squeezed.

I’d never been kissed like this; Logan never did ... this. It felt good. So good. As if I were in a race and my brain was straining to keep up.

I tried to mirror his speed and expertise, fighting with equal aggression against his mouth, but he dominated. He released an animalistic growl, and needy butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

Then, his hand left my ass, and his fingers traced my ribcage, stopping only inches below my navel. He tugged at the waistband of my panties and my raging blood turned to liquid fire. My chest rose and fell, and I looked down at his hand.

My eyes widened. When I realized his intentions, it was already too late.

“Mark ...”

His fingers slipped under the band, he parted my legs and slid into the wetness soaking my panties.

“Mark!” It came out half scolding, half moaning.

“You’re already fucking wet, hermosa.” As he slid a finger inside me, his eyes lost focus and I pushed against him, creating some distance.

“Stop!”

He looked confused, and my heart leaped at how roguishly handsome he looked. “What?”

“I said, stop.”

“Why?”

The audacity!

Why?

I had a million reasons why, but the most important one came to mind. My loyalty to Logan. This ... This was wrong—whatever this was. The reality that I was being unfaithful to him crept like poison ivy around my heart, squeezing until tears stung.

“We can’t do this … in here.” Why did I add that?

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