Page 43 of Captured By the Bratva

“She was gentle,” he continues. “The kind of person who saw good in everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it,” he continues, his voice roughened by memory. “She fell for a man who saw her innocence as a weakness. He used her kindness to control her, to belittle her until she couldn’t see herself anymore.”

My heart clenches as I watch him, the hardness in his expression giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable. “What happened to her?” I ask softly.

His gaze drops, the pain evident in the set of his mouth. “She took her own life. And I wasn’t there to stop her.” His voice breaks just slightly, a vulnerability that catches me off guard. “I swore I’d never fail anyone like that again.”

His words hit me with a fierce intensity, and for a moment, all the walls between us seem to fade. I see the pain he carries, the loss that fuels his need for control, and I see that, beneath his cold exterior, there’s a man who has suffered deeply for a long time.

He continues after a moment’s pause. “I will not let the same thing happen to you.”

Without thinking, I reach for his hand, my fingers curling around his. He glances down, surprised but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he looks at me with a raw honesty that leaves me breathless.

“I don’t need to be controlled, Ivan,” I say, meeting his gaze. “But I do feel safe around you.”

A flicker of understanding softens his features, and he nods, his grip tightening around my hand. “With me,” he says quietly, “you will always be safe.”

Slowly, he reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek. His hand moves to rest lightly on my neck, his thumb grazing my jaw. I shiver at his touch, the tenderness surprising me.

“Cathy,” he murmurs, and then, as if pulled by a force neither of us can resist, he leans in.

Our lips meet in a kiss that is gentle, almost tentative, as though he’s holding back a storm. I feel the weight of his past in that kiss, the need for connection that he’s buried deep.

My hand finds its way to his shoulder, and as the kiss deepens, I sense a shared vulnerability that goes beyond words.

His kiss deepens, and he draws me closer, his arms tightening around me, pulling me into his solid warmth. I feel his fingers trail along my back, possessive yet infinitely gentle.

Slowly, he guides me down onto the grass, his movements unhurried, almost reverent, as though he wants to savor every second. The cool blades press softly against my skin, and aboveus, the stars flicker, distant but bright, witnesses to a moment that feels far removed from the world we left behind.

His hand grazes my cheek, his thumb brushing just below my jaw, and I close my eyes, feeling every inch of his touch. There’s a tenderness in him, a care that feels new, like he’s discovering a part of himself he rarely lets surface.

His lips find mine again, and this time, the kiss is deeper, a blend of unspoken need and restrained desire. His fingers move along my neck, trailing down to my shoulder, the touch igniting a warmth that spreads through me, wrapping me in his presence.

"Ivan," I murmur, barely aware of the sound of his name on my lips, but it seems to have an effect on him. His hand stills, and he looks at me, his gaze holding an unspoken question.

For a moment, his vulnerability is there, exposed—just a flicker of it, but it’s enough to stir something within me.

He leans in, his voice a soft whisper against my ear. "You… have no idea what you do to me, do you?" The words send a shiver through me, his tone both intense and tender.

I smile, a small, uncertain smile that feels almost foreign after everything we’ve been through. “I’m starting to understand,” I whisper back, letting my own fingers trace along his jawline, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips. “You’re not as unreachable as you think.”

His fingers slide beneath the hem of my dress, tracing lazy circles on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I bite my lip, trying to suppress a groan as his touch sends electric jolts through my body.

"Tell me something else," he urges, his voice dripping with desire. "Something I don’t know."

I close my eyes, letting go of my inhibitions. "I fantasize about you," I confess. "About us, like this. While you’re working, when I’m in bed."

Ivan's grip tightens on my thigh, and he leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. "What did you imagine, Cathy?" he asks, his tone commanding yet utterly seductive. "Did you imagine me taking you like this?"

His fingers deftly slip beneath my panties, finding their mark with expert precision. I gasp, arching my back as he begins to stroke me, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency.

"Yes," I moan, my hips bucking involuntarily. "Yes, just like this."

He laughs, a dark, possessive sound that sends a thrill through me. "Good girl," he mutters, his thumb brushing over my clit in rhythmic motions. "Let me hear you beg for it."

I whimper, my hands gripping the grass beneath me as waves of pleasure begin to crash over me. "Please," I gasp, my voice trembling. "Please, Ivan, don't stop."

He doesn't stop. Instead, his fingers work faster, plunging deeper as he talks dirty, driving me wild. "That's right," he growls. "Take it, Cathy. You love it, don't you? Admit it."

"Yes," I cry out, my body tensing as an orgasm builds inside me. "I love it, Ivan."

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