Page 54 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

When I pull away, she closes the distance between us, pressing her lips to mine. The kiss is quick but heated, enough to remind me of the passion simmering between us. My hand instinctively moves to the back of her neck, holding her in place for just a second longer, savoring the taste of her.

“Let’s go,” I murmur against her mouth, pulling back before I get too carried away in front of everyone.

We head towards the car, and I can feel the tension in the air between us, electric and undeniable. The moment we’re inside, the door closing behind us, I turn to her, the need to touch her, to feel her, overwhelming me.

I don’t hesitate. I pull her closer, my hand sliding up her thigh as I kiss her deeply. Her lips part for me, and I take full advantage, my tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting her. She responds immediately, her hands gripping my shoulders, as if she can’t get close enough.

My hand moves higher, beneath the hem of her dress, fingers grazing the soft skin of her thigh. She gasps into my mouth, and the sound drives me wild. I press her back into the seat, my other hand cupping her face, keeping her exactly where I want her.

“Timur…,” she whispers breathlessly when I pull back, her eyes dark with desire.

“We’re not done,” I say, my voice rough as I kiss her again, my fingers still teasing her skin, sliding dangerously close to where I know she wants me. She squirms slightly under my touch, and it only makes me want her more.

I pull back, just enough to meet her gaze, and the look in her eyes nearly undoes me. She wants this as much as I do. Her breath is heavy, her lips swollen from the kisses, and all I canthink about is getting her home—back to our bed, where I can take my time with her.

The car begins to move, and I finally pull away, though my hand remains on her thigh. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of touching her.

The ride home feels like an eternity, the heat between us making the space inside the car feel too small, too charged. I keep my hand on her leg, my thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on her skin. She shifts beside me, clearly affected, but she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to.

When we finally arrive home, she lets out a small sigh of relief. “As much as I enjoyed myself tonight,” she says, her voice soft but filled with heat, “I’ll be glad to have you to myself now.”

I grin, my eyes locking on hers. “Not half as much as I want you.”

I step out of the car, offering her my hand. She takes it without hesitation, her fingers slipping into mine as I lead her towards the house. The moment we step inside, I can feel the tension building again, the desire hanging thick in the air.

I pull her against me, my mouth finding hers once more. Her hands immediately come up to tangle in my hair, and I can feel the way her body melts into mine. I kiss her slowly this time, savoring the taste of her, the way she responds to my touch.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I whisper against her lips, my hands already sliding down to her waist.

She nods, her breath catching as I pull away, leading her up the stairs, my hand never leaving hers. The anticipation is killing me, but I force myself to take it slow. I want this moment to last.

As soon as we reach the bedroom, I close the door behind us. There’s no need to rush anymore. She’s mine now, and tonight, I plan to remind her of exactly that.

Chapter Twenty-Five - Jennifer

I wake up with a start, feeling the warmth of Timur’s body beside me. The room is dark, only the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the curtains. I blink, trying to shake off the disorientation of sleep, and then turn my head to look at him. He’s still sound asleep, his breathing steady, his face relaxed for once. In this quiet moment, with his harshness softened by sleep, he looks different—almost peaceful.

God, he’s handsome.

The thought crosses my mind before I can stop it, and I hate the way my chest tightens. I’m not supposed to feel this way about him. Not after everything. But I can’t help the pull I feel whenever I’m near him, the way my eyes always find him, the way I crave his touch even when I try to deny it. He’s dangerous—both in his world and to my heart.

I sit up carefully, not wanting to wake him. My gaze shifts toward the crib where Tyler sleeps. My heart skips a beat when I notice him stirring more than usual. Something feels off. I move quietly, slipping out of bed and walking over to the crib.

Leaning over, I place a gentle hand on his forehead, and my stomach drops. He’s burning up.

“Tyler…,” I whisper, trying to soothe him as he fusses in his sleep. Panic swells in my chest. He wasn’t like this before bed. What if something’s wrong?

I turn quickly, rushing back to Timur’s side and shaking his shoulder. “Timur, wake up,” I whisper urgently. He stirs, blinking his eyes open, his brow furrowing in confusion as he registers my anxious face.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is deep and groggy.

“Tyler has a fever. It’s bad. We need to take him to the hospital.”

That gets him up in an instant. Without another word, he’s out of bed, his movements swift and precise as he scoops Tyler from the crib. The baby whimpers in his arms, his little face flushed, and my heart clenches.

The drive to the hospital feels like it lasts forever, even though Timur is driving fast, his jaw clenched in concern. I’m sitting in the backseat, holding Tyler close, murmuring soft reassurances to him even though my own heart is racing.

We finally arrive at the hospital, and I barely register anything as we rush inside. The doctors take Tyler in, and we follow close behind, staying by his side as they assess him. Every second feels like an eternity, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

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