Page 30 of Till Death Saves Me

I like the kind of progress we've been making, but I won't let myself acknowledge it more than that. Won't let myself look at it too closely.

I still can’t get over the way that malyshka rolled off my tongue, either. The Russian endearment took me by surprise, but she didn’t seem to mind it.

I've never liked someone in my space, never wanted anyone in my personal affairs. And yet, I've let her deep under my skin and I don't think I want her out. She softens my edges, and I have come to really enjoy it. I don't change who I am when I'm with her, don't turn off all the dark and ugly pieces of me, but I don't have to.

It's like she's a ray of sunshine that accepts me for all of it.

And I never realized that that was something I would want until she selflessly gave it to me.

I descend the stairs, my mind preoccupied with Bratva business and thoughts of my wife, when I catch sight of Virginia. My breath catches in my throat. She's wearing shorts that hug her curves like a second skin and a crop top that leaves little to the imagination. Fuck.

I have to use every ounce of self control, and a little shifting, so she doesn't see the raging hard on I get in a second. But then I realize that she doesn't dress like that at home. And there is absolutely no fucking way I'm let anyone else see her looking that damn good.

I'm second away from stripping her down myself.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" The words come out harsher than I intend, but I can't help it. I'm already envisioning so much blood at the thought of another man even looking in her direction.

Virginia jumps, clearly startled by my tone. "I-I was just going to the store," she stammers, her eyes wide. She's taken up baking, which I'm not complaining about, but lately, I've been going with her to the store.

"Dressed like that?" I snarl, gesturing at her outfit. "Like hell you are."

Her surprise quickly morphs into anger. "What's wrong with how I'm dressed? It's hot outside!"

"It's not appropriate," I snap back. "You're my wife now. You can't just prance around half-naked."

"Half-naked?" Virginia’s voice rises. "It's a normal outfit, Ivan. And since when do you care what I wear?"

"Since always," I growl, stepping closer. "You represent me now. The Bratva. You can't look like some?—"

"Some what?" She challenges, her eyes flashing. "Say it, Ivan. I dare you."

I clench my jaw, refusing to finish that sentence. But God, she's magnificent when she's angry. Her eyes bright, her chestheaving with each breath. I find myself mesmerized by the fierceness coming off of her.

"You don't own me," Virginia hisses. "I'm not some doll you can dress up and put away when you're done playing."

"No," I agree, my voice low and more for myself than her. "You're far more dangerous than that."

We're standing toe-to-toe now, the air between us crackling with tension. When did I start finding her defiance so damn attractive? I want to shake her, to make her understand the danger she's in. But another part of me, a part I've been trying to ignore, wants to pull her close and claim those full, pouty lips.

"I'm going to the store," Virginia declares, chin lifted in defiance. "With or without your permission."

I grit my teeth, torn between admiration and frustration. "Fine," I growl. "But you're not going alone. And you're changing first."

Truthfully, I'd rather keep her locked up here. The last time she left someone targeted her — because of me. And the idea that the assholes are still out there, that they might try it again, has me on edge.

My anger is a living thing writhing under my skin, and it lashes it out at the wrong person. Something that I have never had an issue with before I met Virginia.

I find myself moving closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull of Virginia's defiance. Her eyes flash with anger, her chest heaving with each breath. The sight of her like this, all fire and passion, ignites something primal within me.

Virginia tilts her chin up, meeting my gaze without flinching. "I'm not changing."

She turns to leave, but I'm faster. My hand shoots out, gripping her arm and pulling her back. She collides with my chest, her warmth seeping through my shirt. The scent of vanilla envelops me, clouding my senses.

"Let go of me," she hisses, but doesn't pull away.

I lean in close, my lips barely grazing her ear. "Make me."

Virginia shivers, and I feel it run through her entire body. Her breath hitches, and I know she feels this too - this electric current running between us.

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