Page 72 of Knocked-Up Bratva Prisoner

I brush my hand across her cheek, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

Dammit. My heart doesn’t seem to belong to me anymore.

I’ve already pulled the patio sofa out into the garden near the bonfire, so we curl up together on that and watch the flames lick the sky above us.

It is a magnificent sight. The fire spreads heat through the air, warming right into our bones as we lay tangled together.

“Stargazing and fires go really well together,” she says dreamily, leaning against me with her head tilted upwards.

I have my arm wrapped around the front of her, and I brush my fingers up and down over her stomach. “Clara?"

“Mm?”

“I won’t be locking the doors anymore. I just wanted to let you know that.”

I’ve thought about this for such a long time. I’ve considered all the things that could go wrong, but I have to take this step.

“You—won’t lock me inside anymore?” She shifts her body so that she can turn and look at me. Her big brown eyes are filled with curiosity and confusion. Her brow is slightly knotted, and the corners of her lips are pursed.

“I thought you would be happy about this?” I ask, feeling confused myself.

“I am," she replies slowly. “I just—I guess I want to know why.”

“Because I trust you,” I say simply.

There are so many other reasons behind my decision, but this is the easiest, most straightforward answer I can give her.

I can’t tell her that I want to test her. I want to know if she will run or stay. I can’t tell her that I am desperate for her towantto stay.

“Trust.” She nods, then turns to rest her head on my chest again and look up at the sky.

“Trust,” I whisper softly, then kiss the top of her head.

The fire burns for an hour before it's low enough for us to get close enough to make s'mores.

I’ve already pulled some hot coals to the other side of the fire pit to cook our dinner on, and while that is filling the airwith delightful smells, Clara is very busy making a sticky mess of crackers and marshmallows.

She looks like a little kid, laughing, getting her hands full of sugar and loving every second of it.

After her second s'more she looks over at me and frowns deeply.

“How are your hands so clean?” she asks, staring at hers in horror.

“Um—I don’t know how to answer that,” I say with amusement.

“But it’s so messy. And your hands are clean, but you’ve already made three.”

She holds up her hands in front of my face and laughs. “I really am turning feral. Maybe I should build a cottage in the woods and become a forest fairy.”

Her imagination is amusing and beautiful.

“Maybe you should learn a little more about the forest before you do that.”

“You can teach me everything I need to know.” She grins at me, and in that moment, I can pretend that we are going to be together forever. That this isn’t just some weird thing that is going to end soon.

I smile, and let the delusion settle over me.

***

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