Page 42 of Caught By the Bratva Beast

Right now, a hot shower sounds divine.

I glance around, find the door to the bathroom, and step inside, slipping off the lingerie that Aesha insisted I wear under the dress. She thought that I should have pretty lingerie for the wedding night. She didn't want to listen to how this is going to be a marriage of nothing but convenience. For both of us.

With a deep breath, I step into the shower and turn on the faucet, letting the hot water cascade down my back. I work my fingers through the hair, loosening the hairspray that holds it in place. Makeup bleeds down my fingertips as I scrub it from my skin, tired of having it caked on.

I take my time in the shower trying to scrub away the nerves from my body. I'm not going to kill Maxim tonight but knowing that he's so close that all it would take is a knife in the middle of the night while he's sleeping is intoxicating. There's a certain thrill that I can't seem to escape.

But then there's the appeal of being protected, knowing that nobody can hurt me. While working for Nicolo was nice and he kept me safe. I know without a doubt that he will never let anybody put a finger on me.

The harsher side of Maxim is in direct conflict with the man I saw in Russia. Knowing what he's capable of, knowing how he behaves when he can let his guard down. It's all at war with each other and I don't know how to handle it. But in all fairness, he barely got to see the real me, after all, I’m still role-playing, pretending to be someone I’m not. He’s right, it’s all bullshit. What will happen if Nicolo gets what he wants? What will happen after? God, this is so fucked up.

I step out of the shower, taking my time to dry myself with the fluffy terrycloth towel. After putting on my favorite lotion, I grabbed the silky pajama set hanging from the back door.

They feel like heaven on my skin as I slide them on, taking my time to do up the two buttons in the center of the shirt, the rest of it hanging open.

I pull open the door and step back into the bedroom, and I freeze. Maxim is in the middle of the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, showing off the plane of his chiseled chest, leading down to the hair that disappears under the waistband of his pants.

“Why are you here?” I ask, voice trembling.

I know exactly what he's doing here. I was hoping that we could put it off tonight, and I was sure that I'd be able to avoid it for the time being.

Except he's sitting right there, and when he looks that good, I don't think I have an ounce of willpower left.

Maxim motions between me and the bed. “Come here.”

As if there's a tether tied between us, I can't resist his order, slowly crossing the room, toes sinking into the plush carpet just peeking out from beneath the bed before I climb onto the cushy surface beside him.

“I was gentle with you earlier,” he says, his voice raspy as he looks at me, his hand landing on my thigh and sliding up until his fingers slip beneath the hem of my shorts “I'm not going to be gentle anymore.”

A chill runs through me at the thought of what he could possibly mean. Before I know it, he's hovering over me. His legs straddle me on either side, his hands gripping the headboard.

My heart skips a beat, my hands moving at their own will to touch his chest, feeling along the ridges of his muscles down to his pants. “Do we have to do this tonight?”

It's a weak protest. There's no power behind it.

I wanted this in Russia, and I want it now. Maybe once I've slept with him, I can finally get him out of my system and commit fully to why I'm really here.

Maxim’s head dips closer to me, his lips tracing along my jaw. “You're my wife. I want your body, mind, and soul. All of you.”

He leans back, sitting on his heels, hovering just above my legs as his hands climb up my thighs once more.

Arousal dampens my core as he tugs at the hem of the shorts, pulling them down. “Lift your hips.”

I do as he says without hesitation, letting him work the shorts down my legs. He tosses them to the side, gaze burning as he looks at me naked and vulnerable in front of him.

“Your tight little pussy is already dripping for me,” he says. He shifts his way down the bed, sliding his shirt off in the process.

His skin is covered in tattoos, the same florals as his arms. All I want to do this trace my tongue along those lines, feeling the ridges of his body beneath my hands as I come.

Maxim kisses his way up inside my leg, nipping and sucking at the skin as I grind under him, trying to get the friction I'm craving.

“You want me. I know you want me. Stop trying to fight it, my little huntress, and just let go like we both know you longing to do.”

“Are you going to keep talking to feed your ego or are you going to make me come?”

“I like a woman who knows what she wants.” His tongue slides along my wet slit, catching every single drop of the dew there. “You still taste as sweet as I remember.”

“Holy shit, I don't think anybody's ever done that before.”

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