Page 50 of Plus-Sized Bratva Prisoner

“It’s a little chilly,” she says, rubbing her hands over her arms briskly, trying to warm herself up. I pull my jacket off, wrapping it over her shoulders, then pull her up against my side to wrap my arm around her as well and share my body heat.

“You’ve been in the warm sun outside, and this place is temperature-controlled for optimum development of the flavors in the wine.”

“How did you and your siblings get into this?” she asks, pulling my jacket tighter over her shoulders. She lifts the fabric to her face and breathes in, smiling the smallest grin. I grin too—she likes how I smell. I think the wine we’ve had has relaxed her enough to really enjoy the day and let her guard down a bit.

“Until we got to Boston, we only used to deal in beer and vodka. Not even the good stuff really—cheaper brands, not caring much about flavor. We were in it for the money and we chose what sold the fastest.

"But after we moved here and joined my family's Boston branch, we become more aquatinted with the finer things in life. Luxuries, acquired tastes, much more—beautiful—things.”

I brush my hand over her cheek, tucking a stray curl behind her hair. “Here in Boston, I discovered the most beautiful thing I could ever have imagined,” I say, my voice deep and quiet.

I’m staring directly into her eyes when I talk. She doesn’t even ask me what it was I discovered because she can see it on my face. I’m talking about her.

She truly is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Here, there, anywhere in the world I’ve been—nothing can compete with her.

I pull her around so she is up against my chest, then lean down and kiss her, slowly and tenderly. Not rushed and heated like it was in the office,

Although my physical reaction is just as intense, if not even more so, that same crazy urgency isn’t interfering with my ability to really savor the moment with her.

We both stop when we hear footsteps coming down the stone steps into the cellar. One of the workers, holding a crate of wine, pauses to look at us halfway down into the cellar.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t know anyone was down here,” he says nervously.

“It’s no problem, Kevin. Come on down. We were just heading up, anyway.”

Tia is blushing and trying to hide her grin as I take her hand and lead her up the stairs. “We can do the tour after dinner.”

“Dinner?” she asks, surprised.

“Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you that I had our chef prepare a full three-course meal for us, on the roof deck overlooking the vineyards. You are going to love it.” I grin, knowing that it was going to make her smile.

Chapter 15 - Tia

All of this is so magical. I don’t know if it’s this place, or what is going on with me, but I am really struggling to keep my thoughts under control today.

Yefim is just—he’s so gorgeous, and he’s being such a gentleman. He’s going out of his way to make sure I’m enjoying myself and he keeps asking me if I need anything else. Sometimes he doesn’t even ask, he just preemptively brings me what I need. And, of course, I have to chuckle when he makes sure I keep drinking water in between the wine tasting sessions. It’s something a real boyfriend would do. It takes me by surprise that he even considers it.

I am honestly having the most amazing time.

This place is too beautiful for words. It’s lush and green and luxurious.

We are standing downstairs in the wine cellar. He brought me down here to show me how the wine is made, but when he took his jacket off and wrapped it around my shoulders, then pulled me tight against his side…honestly, I forgot all about the wine, and now I can smell his cologne and I can feel him against me and all I am thinking is that I want him to kiss me again.

He pulls me around to face him. My hands are on his chest and his arms are wrapped around me.

He leans down and kisses me. His lips against mine, moving slowly, seductively, send waves of electricity bolting trough my body like a summer storm threatening to burn through the sky.

His kiss makes me feel alive. It fills me with something I can’t explain. The way he looks at me makes me feel beautiful, but the way he kisses me—it makes me feel as though he has been waiting for me his entire life, and now that he’s found me, he will never let me go.

It’s a beautiful feeling.

And a terrifying one.

Because I’m letting myself get carried away here. I am letting this place and this moment sweep me off my feet, and I if I am not careful, I am going to fall for Yefim and be heartbroken when this whole arrangement is over.

Our kiss is interrupted, and I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

I follow Yefim back up the stone staircase, into the late afternoon sun.

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