Page 25 of Stolen By the Bratva King

“Nothing?” His eyes flash with amusement.

I sigh and lean back in the chair. “Nothingyet.”

He slides up and sits in a chair beside me at the patio table where I’m sitting outside in the courtyard, enjoying a warm sunny morning before the heat gets too oppressive.

He leans forward until his knee touches mine. I hold my breath and stiffen, staring at him. I feel my only focus since moving into his condo has been waiting for him to make another move, and considering how I might react.

The kiss we shared has been wrapped around my head and coiled into my stomach ever since it happened. It’s in every thought I have, and each time I stare at his carved jawline, desire resurfaces. Even though it felt like a dream, the warmth of his lips was very real, and I crave it more than anything else.

His gray eyes stare into my soul, trying to unearth every dirty little secret I’ve ever had, including, probably, the nasty thoughts I’ve been having about him.

David still hasn’t brought up how he’d caught me in the act of pleasuring myself, and I don’t dare talk about it, either. I certainly am in no position to admit to him that it washisbody andhisface I pictured as I touched myself.

I gulp as his knee bumps softly against mine. He brings his fingers across each of my fingers, stroking them in a way that’s so soothing, tingles ignite across the surface of my skin.

I close my eyes and breathe out. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you,” he whispers, and even though my eyes are closed, I feel his breath hot against the curve of my neck.

My eyelids flutter open and I look at him. “I don’t need your help. I can do it myself.”

“You said the same thing the other day.” David’s eyes pin on me, flirtatious and dangerous.

My cheeks burn and I quickly avert my eyes, opening my laptop again. “You’re very distracting, you know.”

“Is that a bad thing?” His fingers are crawling up my wrist now. I make no effort to stop him, shocking myself at how long I’m letting this go on.

I breath out slowly, trying to draw in will power to resist this gorgeous man. “Yes, I can’t concentrate,” I say, my voice thick and hoarse.

“Maybe you need to concentrate on something else for a while, then.” His accent is making my muscles melt into a useless glob. His whisper sends a rush of chills through my body, tingling from my scalp all the way down to my toes and everywhere in between.

I force myself to look at him, but I’m not smiling. “Like what?”

He shrugs, but there is a dark and demanding expression rolling over his face that gives me an excited sensation in my stomach. It starts to warm and spread through my limbs when he runs his fingers all the way up my arm, and reaches one hand behind my neck, stroking my hair.

“Does that feel good?” he whispers.

He’s so close. Lethally close. His fingers hug my neck, pressing in, pulling me closer. His lips are brushing the back of my ear now. His lips part, and his mouth presses against the edge of my neck.

I let out an instinctive and impulsive gasp of pleasure. That sighing noise is the only verbal answer I give to his question, and it’s all we both need.

I swivel to face him in my chair. The next part is a blur. I’m possessed by urgent need.

His hands are in my hair. My nose bumps against his, our foreheads press together. There’s an exhale of air, a rush of heat, greedy fingers stroking down each other’s arms, through hair and around limps.

David grabs my waist and pulls me off the chair and settles me onto his lap. He groans and his eyes are fierce with his wicked intentions.

I feel his hardness between my legs, bulging in his pants. My cheeks burn and as my gaze locks with his, he gives me an eager, confident grin. “You see what you’re doing to me?”

“You’re making me blush,” I admit.

“I want you to feel it,” he groans.

I press my palm on his lap and give it pressure, reveling in the new power I have over him. David lifts his head to the sky. His throat bobs as he swallows, and I admire the masculine beauty of his neck.

“You’re so goddamn sexy, I can’t take it anymore,” he says, pushing his hips up and grinding against me.

I moan and fan my fingers out through his hair, arching my back as his hands journey from my waist to the round dip of my ass.

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