Page 13 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

"Anoushka," Nikolai speaks. “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing here?”

"Nothing, I just… " My words trail off, too embarrassed to admit what had captured my attention.

And then, the woman moans. “Oh my god, yes, Baby!” she howls in the night, and the sound of skin slapping against skin permeates through the air.

“What the hell?” Nikolai whispers, looking around, and then, his neck freezes in position. I follow his gaze and see an opening through the trees. From our point of view, we can see the man holding the woman’s neck back toward him with a firm grip on her hair as she’s bent over, and he’s slamming into her over and over again.

She moans again and begins to grind her hips against him. Nikolai’s grip around my waist tightens even more so, his fingers digging into my dress and skin. I instinctively arch my back, and Nikolai notices what’s happening and quickly releases me.

"Let’s go," he commands, leaving no room for argument, taking my hand and leading me deeper into the bushes to avoid being spotted by the clandestine couple.

The moon hangs heavy in the night sky, casting a silvery glow on the garden's lush foliage. I can't help but notice how the shadows accentuate Nikolai's strong jaw, and I find myself stealing glances at him as we rush along.

I’m so distracted by how he looks in the evening light that I don’t focus on the path ahead.

"Watch your step," he warns me, his voice deep and resonant. "It's a bit muddy here."

Before I can acknowledge his warning, my foot slips into the slick mud, and I stumble. Nikolai reacts instantly, his other arm wrapping around my waist to keep me upright. In the process, his hand accidentally brushes against my breast, and I gasp, feeling an electric shock run through my body. Our eyes lock, and the air between us seems to thicken with desire.

"Sorry," he murmurs, his voice rough with unspoken longing. His hand lingers for a moment longer before he pulls away, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

I try to catch my breath, my mind racing with conflicting emotions. As much as I want to maintain boundaries in this arranged marriage, I can't ignore the chemistry that crackles between us.

Nikolai looks at me and gives me a small nod to keep walking. He gives me his arm, and I take it. But just three steps down, he stops, looking at the ground beneath. I follow his gaze and find a pathway of gravel.

“They’ll hear us if we take this path,” Nikolai says. “And we can’t turn back,” he whispers.

And just then, like all colossal comedies where everything that can go wrong will go wrong, it begins to drizzle.

“My dress!” I gasp, worried about the fact that we will have to enter the reception again.

“Over here,” Nikolai takes my hand and leads me under a nearby tree with bushes in front of it. We crouch down, and he pulls off his coat, placing it around my shoulder. The tree prevents most of the raindrops from hitting us.

Nikolai and I stare at each other. We’re both crouched low, and he still holds my hand, ensuring I don’t lose my footing. Just then, a sharp cry pierces the night, shattering the blissful haze surrounding us. Nikolai and I spring apart as realization dawns. My cheeks flame with mortification as the sounds of panting and pleasured moans reach us from a nearby bush. I peek through the foliage and catch a glimpse of tangled limbs and discarded clothes before quickly looking away, my face hot enough to combust. Nikolai is right behind me, his hands a firm grip on my waist to ensure I don’t fall wholly in the mud and ruin my dress.

He takes a deep breath just as the woman screams she’s about to cum, blowing it out dangerously close to my ear. A shiver goes down my spine, and I pray he didn’t notice. Our bodies are so close now that I can feel the heat radiating from him, and our breaths mingle together in the cool night air. The sexual tension between us becomes palpable, and for a moment, I forget all about the forbidden tryst we’re witnessing unravel before us.

We sit there, still as night, as the man slams into her again and again. I close my eyes and turn my face away as they both scream into the night with shattering pleasure, Nikolai’s breath warm on my neck, his hands firm on my waist, his chest digging into my back. My ass almost rests on his knees, and we don’t dare move, seeing how close we are to the couple in question.

Heat suffuses my face, equal parts embarrassment and arousal. The way his body grazes mine makes me wish he won’t move back, makes me wish time stands still and this whole situation just makes me wish we had never found ourselves in this position. I know it’s an accidental positioning, a reflexive molding of the body meant to hide us and safeguard my dress should I fall. But my traitorous body doesn't seem to care about intent.

Just then, I hear the man’s voice. “Have you seen my shirt?”

“Here it is,” the woman replies.

We hear the rustling of clothes and then footsteps. I open my eyes and see the area before us bare. But Nikolai presses closer, his body covering mine. “In case they pass through from this path,” he whispers in my ear, sending a jostle of desire through me. I sit there, still as can be, until minutes pass.

At last, Nikolai pulls away, but he takes one hand of mine, stepping up and helping me to my feet. “I think we’re safe now,” he says.

Once on my feet, I turn to see him looking down at me, his eyes dark from an emotion I can’t quite place. He still holds my hand, and my legs tremble, threatening to buck under me from how much I wish he’d keep holding me close. How can something so wrong feel so right? A small voice in the back of my mind cries out in protest. This is madness… you barely know this man! He's a virtual stranger and the head of a criminal empire. You should not be enjoying this!

This can’t be happening. He’s Nikolai Orlov and I? Anoushka Zolotov.

Anoushka Zolotov Orlov. His wife.

With a sudden gasp, I pull my hand back, and a flash of hurt crosses his eyes. He steps back from me. Needing to find a distraction, I think of words to say.

And all I can come up with, in a futile attempt to diffuse the sexual tension between us, is to ask, “Who were they?”

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