Page 17 of Stolen By the Bratva King

“No. We can’t do this.” I squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t have to look at him, so I don’t have to see the confusion and the lust in his eyes.

He’s holding my hands. My eyes are closed but I can hear his heavy breathing. He says nothing.

“We need to go back to bed,” I whisper, finally working up the courage to open my eyes. He’s framed in moonlight, a glow in his silver eyes. He’s staring at me as if he’s ready to conquer me.

“David, please,” I squeak.

The desire in his eyes dissolves as if he’s waking from a hypnosis. He drags his hands through his hair, exhaling a slow breath as he lifts his head toward the ceiling, trying to calm himself down.

I take a step back from him, blood swirling hot through my brain.

“I’m sorry,” I manage. “I can’t.”

He nods, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “I know.”

“Just go back to bed.” When he hesitates, I add, “please.”

This gets him into motion. He looks at me, a look as if to say,are you sure on his face.When I nod, he takes a step away from me, turning to back out of the room.

He pauses at the edge of the kitchen and glances at me over his shoulder. His expression is one of pain and conflict. “Are you coming?”

“I need a minute,” I sigh.

He nods and disappears around the corner. As soon as he’s gone, I wilt like a flower, resting my elbows on the counter. I cup my face in my hands, trying to breathe through the adrenaline rush.

My whole body is shaking as desire threatens to level me completely.

I still want him, badly. His fingertips and lips leave a searing imprint on my mouth and skin. I should climb into bed with him and straddle myself on top of him as we ignite in flames of kisses and passion.

But I can’t seem to force myself to move. I’m frozen in place, with one half of my heart telling me to live with adventure and chase my desire.

But the other, stronger half of me is telling me it’s not a good idea, don’t sleep with the mafia boss you are writing a story about.

I pour water from the tap and place the cold glass against the hollow of my neck. I’m burning from within, and I have no idea how I’m going to make it through this experience sharing a living space with this magnetic, gorgeous man breathing the same air and sleeping in the same bed as me. If the gun mob doesn’t kill me first, this living arrangement surely will.

7

David

Idon’t tell anyone about my agenda for today, not even Miroslav. Sometimes it’s smarter to keep the tactics to yourself, to see who you can really trust. But of course, I already know the answer to that. You can never trust anyone. Not fully.

I’m in the car with another one of my drivers. I tried to leave Hazel with Miroslav, but she insisted that I leave her alone, that she didn’t want ‘some weirdo’ watching her all day.

The argument had gotten heated, but I’d finally relented, giving her my number and telling her to call me right away if something happened.

She promised to stay in the condo on the agreement that our deal would be off if she left. Now here I sit in this car, worrying about her safety, but hoping for the best. She’s the only person I know capable of making me back down.

Her feistiness makes her even more irresistible.

I can’t stop thinking about our kiss, the softness of her lips brushing against mine, the softness of her breath against my cheek, her warm, slender fingers lightly tugging on my hair. I shove the images out of my head, along with my brewing desire. I don’t have time to think about that right now.

“Just pull up here,” I instruct the driver as we pull into the parking lot of a seedy apartment complex.

“Need me to go in with you, boss?” he asks, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror.

“No.” I clutch the door handle and push it open, stepping out onto the pavement that’s still steaming after a summer morning rain shower. “This I need to do on my own.”

I walk through a breezeway and tromp up a flight of stairs to an apartment on the second floor, a spot we use for bratva business on occasion.

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