Page 29 of Arranged Bratva Virgin

“Look, whatever is going on, you need to take care of it,” I insist.

“I will take care of it,” he mutters, annoyed with me. “I assure you that I will take care of this, but still, it’s not for you to worry about, okay?”

His jaw muscle is flexing. He locks his eyes on me, and I notice how they narrow. He steps up close against me again, his chest right up against mine. The heat from our bodies intermingles, and the scent of his cologne reminds me why I actually came looking for him in the first place.

“Did you sleep in my bed last night?” I stammer, overwhelmed by this body being this close to me.

He takes another step forward, forcing my back up against the wall. He pushes his hand into the wall above my head. I glance up and my eyes trail over the corded muscles of his arm and shoulder as they sit taunt against the fabric of his shirt.

“So what if I did?” he says darkly.

“It’s a yes or a no question,” I say, trying to be sterner and more focused, but it is nearly impossibly at this point.

“What makes you think that I did, Darya?”

I want to tell him I can smell him on my pillow, and it is driving me wild. I want to tell him that when he sleeps next to me, he makes me dream about him. My body knows he is there, and I wake up looking for him, wanting to feel him again.

But it sounds too intimate.

I clear my throat lightly and try to turn my head away from him to pull my thoughts together again.

He runs his finger up my neck and beneath my chin, tilting my head back. Our lips are inches apart, and I can feel his cock growing harder against me. His breathing is heavy, the air between us charged with electricity.

Without thinking, I raise myself on my tiptoes and press my lips into his.

At first, he is surprised—perhaps it was too bold of me—but then his fingers wrap around the back of my neck, and he returns the kiss with force as he presses his hips against me as well.

I gasp against his lips, feeling his other hand running down my body.

I brush my fingers over his chest, up over his shoulders, and around his neck, pulling myself closer to him.

He growls a low sound that rumbles through me and sends shivers down my spine.

My entire body is tingling with anticipation. The dreams I have been having about him are all taunting me, teasing me about what it might feel like to be with him.

Suddenly, Stefano steps away from me and rubs his hand over his face. He turns his body to the side, looking anywhere but at me.

My brows knot together, and I feel my mouth pull tight. Why did he stop? Again.

“I am going out,” he says calmly, his demeanor changing slightly, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes softening. He rolls his shoulders back, and I watch the way his thick neck muscles pull taut.

How is he able to just stop like that? I want him so badly. But I won’t beg for anything. This is getting wildly frustrating.

He is starting to piss me off with the way he gets me all fired up and then pulls back.

I brush my hands over my clothes, straightening them, lifting my chin in defiance. I won’t let him see that he got to me like he did.

“Where are you going?” I ask, matching his tone and energy.

“Just to get some work done, perhaps to one of the warehouses.”

I am not stupid—I know exactly where he is going.

“The warehouse where the issue was?” I glare at him.

His jaw muscles feather slightly. “Yes.”

I continue to stare him down. He is not going to get away with it that easily. In my family, we openly discuss issues and work together to resolve them. We each add a unique perspective, and just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I have not been a valuable part of that process.

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