Page 16 of Stolen By the Bratva King

“It’s comfortable.” I hear the defensiveness in my voice, but I’m not going to apologize for it.

“Good. I want you to be comfortable.” I get lost in the intense gray depth of his eyes.

This is going to be more of a struggle than I originally planned, but then again, going into this, I wasn’t expecting to have to share a bed with him.

I’m learning that when it comes to David Petrov the mafia boss, surprises wait for me around every corner.

I pluck two pillows from the mountain of them behind me and set them in between me and David.

His grin is enormous. “What’s this for?”

“A barrier.” I pat the pillows.

“You really think we need that?” He gives me a doubtful frown.

“Let’s keep this professional,” I remind him. “It’s what we both agreed to.”

His eyes darken possessively again, but he’s smiling. My pulse races and I’m suddenly feverish. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the night with his body heat next to me. When he just stares at me, I say, “just promise me, alright?”

“I promise,” he says, but he doesn’t move his eyes from me.

“I’m turning out the light now,” I say. “We’re going to sleep.”

“Sleep, yes,” he says, but he sounds as unconvinced as I feel inside.

This is madness. I’m sharing a bed with a bratva boss, lying in the dark. How did it come to this? I have the craziest job in the universe.

I lie in silence in the darkness. The only sound is the faint lull of traffic on the streets below. I’m acutely aware of my breathing. Every muscle in my body is stiff. There’s a low pulse happening between my legs, and I can’t calm my heartrate.

I roll over on my side and push my hand under the covers, and when I press it to the fabric of my underwear, it’s warm and damp. There’s a loud rushing sound through my eardrums and I’m lightheaded, even though I’m laying down. It feels like I’m floating in the ocean of blankets around me, nearly drowning in them.

I lay there for several more minutes, convincing myself that it’s ridiculous to have feelings for a bratva boss, that nothing good can come of it, and that I need to stay on my side of the pillow barricade.

When I can’t take it anymore, when I’m too hot and flustered and aroused, I brave a glance at David over my shoulder.

I can only see the mound of his silhouette, his chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm. I carefully peel the sheets from my legs and climb out of bed, padding across the floor.

I saunter my way into the kitchen, using the light of the moon to guide my steps. I inspect each cabinet until I find the one with glasses and reach for one. Maybe I just need to drink a cold glass of water and pace for a few minutes on the cold marble floor to soothe my nerves.

As I’m turning around with the glass in my hand, the breath rushes from my lungs and my stomach flips. I nearly drop the cup, setting it down on the counter behind me.

David is standing over me. He’s breathing fast. His eyes are glazing with longing. “I can’t take it anymore,” he pants.

“Take what?” I breathe out, every nerve ending in my body tingling.

“The tension,” he whispers as he reaches for me and cuffs his hands around my waist.

A breathless gasp leaves my throat as he pulls me toward him. There’s a sizzle in the air between us that claims me in that moment, and I forget everything else.

My hands graze up his shirtless back, fanning out through his hair. His lips collide with mine in an urgency that’s so intense I can’t see straight.

His tongue is in my mouth, rolling over mine, tangling and fighting for dominance. A low grumble rolls from his throat, and I let out an instinctive moan to compliment it.

The smacking sounds, the flutters of warm breath, the heat left on skin from trailing fingers. It’s all dizzying and sweaty and desperate.

An ache throbs between my legs. I need him. I crave him and it hurts. I need more. I need his mouth to kiss me everywhere.

But then my senses clear in a split second and my palm is pressing against his chest. I’m shaking my head and pulling away.

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