Page 42 of Captured By the Bratva

“There are some things I’m abysmal at, so don’t expect anything fancy,” I warn playfully, taking a sip of my wine. The evening has taken a surprisingly pleasant turn, and I find myself relaxing even more.

As we eat, the conversation flows easily, moving from business to lighter topics. I tell him about some of my favorite childhood memories, and he shares stories from his past. It’s strange, but for the first time, I feel like we’re connecting on a deeper level, beyond the forced circumstances of our marriage.

“So, what made you decide to take this path?” I ask, genuinely curious about the man who is now my husband.

Kirill pauses, considering his answer. “It wasn’t a choice, really. It was more of a necessity. Circumstances led me here, and once I was in, there was no turning back.”

I nod, understanding more than he might think. “Life has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? Pushing us in directions we never expected.”

He looks at me, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Yeah, it does. We adapt, we survive.”

We finish our meal, the comfortable silence between us filled with the soft clinking of cutlery and the occasional sip of wine. As I clear the plates, Kirill stands and helps, his presence beside me both comforting and thrilling.

“Thank you for dinner,” he says, his voice sincere. “It was… nice.”

I smile, feeling a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the wine. “You’re welcome. It was nice to unwind a bit.”

He steps closer, his hand brushing against mine as he takes a plate from me. “We should do this more often,” he suggests, his eyes meeting mine.

“Maybe we should,” I agree breathlessly.

He clears away the plates, and I pour us each another glass of wine. As I bend down to put something in the trash, I catch him staring at my ass. A small, knowing smile creeps onto my face. The wine has me feeling slightly tipsy, just enough to lean into the moment and put on a bit of a show. I sway my hips a little more than necessary as I straighten up, glancing over my shoulder to see if he’s noticed.

When I turn back around, his eyes are definitely on me, and there’s a heat in his gaze that sends a thrill through me. We move into the living room, and I can still feel his eyes on me. Is he really finding me that attractive, even in my pajamas?

He suggests a movie, his tone casual but his eyes still intense. “Would you like to watch something, or would you rather be alone?”

“A movie sounds nice,” I reply, my voice soft. I intentionally sit close to him on the couch, close enough that our legs almost touch. I want to see if he reacts, if he feels the same pull that I do.

He picks a movie, and as it starts, I can feel the electricity between us. His arm rests on the back of the couch, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. I sip my wine, trying to focus on the screen, but all I can think about is the tension simmering between us.

The movie plays on, but I’m hardly paying attention. I shift slightly, my leg brushing against his. He doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand comes to rest lightly on my shoulder, his fingers tracing small circles on my skin. The touch has me trembling, making it hard to breathe.

We sit there, the movie a forgotten background noise as the air between us grows thick with anticipation. I glance up at him, and our eyes lock. There’s a moment of silent understanding, a shared recognition of the chemistry that’s been building all evening.

Without thinking, I lean into him, my head resting on his shoulder. He responds immediately, his arm wrapping around me, pulling me closer. The warmth of his body against mine is intoxicating, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

He tilts his head down, his lips brushing against my hair. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a thrill through me.

I look up at him, my breath catching in my throat. “Even in pajamas?” I ask, trying to sound teasing but failing to hide the vulnerability in my voice.

“Especially in pajamas,” he replies, his eyes dark with desire.

I can’t resist any longer. I shift up, closing the small distance between us, and press my lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepens as the need we’ve both been feeling takes over. His hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer, and I respond by wrapping my arms around his neck.

The kiss intensifies, becoming more urgent. I lose myself in the sensation, the taste of him, the way his body feels against mine. When we finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard, our eyes locked in a heated gaze.

“Maybe we should watch movies together more often,” I whisper, my voice shaky with desire.

“As if you’re paying attention to the movie,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.

The movie continues to play in the background, but our focus is solely on each other. I lean closer, our faces inches apart, and then his lips find mine again. This time, the kiss is more urgent, more demanding. His hand slides up my back, fingers brushing against the bare skin just beneath the hem of my shirt, sending shivers down my spine.

I respond by deepening the kiss, my fingers tangling in his hair as I press myself against him. The intensity between us builds, and I can feel the heat rising. Kirill’s hands are firm but gentle, exploring my curves as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.

He pulls away slightly, his breath hot against my skin. “You’ve had enough wine, Malyshka,” he says with a playful smirk, his voice husky with desire.

I finish the last of my glass, setting it down with a shaky laugh. “You’re right,” I admit, still breathless. “We should discuss the whole work thing.”

---