Page 45 of Forced Bratva Prisoner

“The house isn’t big enough to walk around in?” I know I’m just trying to push her buttons.

“That’s not what I said.” She sighs in frustration, pushing off the chair and standing up, forcing me to take a step back, which I don’t like.

“What did you say, then?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to go shopping. Forget she even asked,” she huffs, then turns her back on me to storm off. But before she leaves, I grab her arm and spin her back towards me. She’s right up against my chest when she turns, and she gasps with fright.

“Dinner is at seven sharp this evening. I expect you to join me,” I say, looking down at her as waves of heat bolt through my body.

“Um, yes, okay, dinner. I’ll be there,” she stammers, shifting uncomfortably. I like to watch her squirm against me, but the problem is it’s turning me on.

I am supposed to be enjoying her discomfort, but not in a sexual way.

I release my grin on her arm, and she breathes a sigh of relief and steps away from me.

She pulls her top straight and then shoots a glare of defiance at me. Except in her eyes I see fire, heated sexual desire. She’s annoyed. And if I’m not mistaken, it’s because she is also turned on and doesn’t want to be.

“Can I go now?” she snaps.

“I’m not stopping you.” I gesture towards the door she wants to storm off through. and she spins on her heels and does so.

I chuckle as I watch her walk away, my eyes grazing over her beautiful body.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

***

For the rest of the afternoon we both manage to avoid each other. She spends the majority of her time in the library, reading, and I spend the majority of my time in my home office, pretending to work, but really just feeling distracted and wondering what she is doing.

At seven, I head downstairs to the dining room, looking forward to dinner with her, even though we aren’t really talking.

She is already seated when I walk in, and I sit in the chair opposite her. She steals a quick glance up at me, and then her eyes drop back down to the plate settings in front of her.

“What were you reading?” I ask, fixing my eyes on her because it seems to make her uncomfortable.

“A Frozen Kiss.”

“A love story?”

She laughs. “No, a murder story.”

“Mm.” My eyes narrow at her. “I didn’t take you for a murder mystery kind of girl.”

“Why not? My own life is full of it,” she shrugs.

“Your life is full of murder? But then why would you also want to read about it in your leisure time?”

“My life has been full of some dark things. And I like to read about it because at the end of the book, the bad guy gets caught, and he has to pay for what he’s done. It gives me closure. Some kind of satisfaction that people don’t just do what they want and get away with it.” Her eyes lock with mine and she speaks with confidence, as though she is challenging me to tell her she’s wrong in some way.

Then, when she realizes how much she’s said, she seems to shrink into her chair and look uncomfortable again, waiting for a backlash of some sort.

My eyes soften towards her. My face relaxes and my shoulders drop. “I like reading science fiction,” I say casually, needing to continue talking to quiet the wild and inappropriate thoughts that are circling in my head.

She tucks a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and tilts her head towards me. “You read?”

She sounds sincerely surprised, and it makes me crack up laughing.

“Of course, I read. Why wouldn’t I read?”

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