Page 39 of Plus-Sized Bratva Prisoner

And what I thought might have been an angry smirk is definitely an amused smile. I feel my lips curving up into a grin as I let my eyes wander up and down his body.

He pushes off the bar and starts walking towards us.

“Oh my goodness, Tia, he’s coming straight here. I’ve never seen such a hottie in my life. How do I look?” Cleo says, brushing her hands through her hair.

“Tia, my love, are you having fun?”

Cleo’s jaw practically hits the floor.

“You know him?”

“Cleo, this is Yefim, my husband. Yefim, this is Cleo.”

Cleo holds her hand out to shake Yefim's, but she still has a stunned look on her face.

Drunkenly, she leans close to me, even though Yefim can hear every word she’s saying. “You never told me he was like, a cover model or something.”

I’m noticing how drunk Cleo is, and I’m doing my best not to look that drunk too, even though my head is happily spinning and I have a stupid grin on my face.

But looking too drunk means I’ll probably get into trouble, and I don’t feel like being in trouble.

But to my surprise, Yefim says, “Can I get you girls another drink? And your other friends?”

“Tequila,” Cleo shouts, and our friends all turn to look at her. “Tia’shusbandis buying us a round of tequila guys.”

Oh shit. Everyone is going to come over here now and Yefim will see how many guys are part of our group, too.

He orders a tray of tequila, and everyone grabs one, including him. He holds his up towards me and smiles. “To the most beautiful girl in the world.”

I narrow my eyes towards him, but there is still a grin on my face.

I take the shot and then one of my friends grabs my arm. “Let’s go dancing.”

Nervously, I glance at Yefim, waiting for him to tell me I can’t. But he simply says, “Have fun. I’ll enjoy watching you.”

I let myself be dragged towards the dance floor, and while I am enjoying the music and my friends, I can’t take my eyes off Yefim.

He looks so out of place, standing against the bar in his tailor-made black suit. He’s older than the guys dancing around me, and I glance from them to him and realize—he’s a man. That’s what makes him a hundred times hotter than they are.

He’s got this controlled, sophisticated manner that tells me he knows what he wants, he knows how to get it, and hewillget it.

Fuck.

It’s so fucking sexy.

Everything about him is drop-dead gorgeous.

I giggle to myself as flashes of kissing him play in my mind again. For the hundredth time since it happened.

I want more of that.

Like, right now.

Yefim stays late with me at the club. Not even for a second does he make me feel like I should stop partying or slow down or behave myself. He just watches me having fun, and somehow, I feel a lot safer with him there, his eyes constantly on me.

I feel safer, and I feel really turned on.

When I’m dancing, I’m dancing to tease him. When I talk to him between a drink or a chat with my friends, I find myself leaning into him, running my hands over his chest.

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