Page 7 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

“Want a tour?” Timur asks suddenly, catching me off guard.

I look up at him, surprised by the offer. “Really?”

He leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You seem like you’re into this kind of thing—architecture, design. Thought you’d want to see the rest.”

He’s right. I’ve always been fascinated by luxury homes, the kind of properties I’d only ever see in magazines or in movies. Being in a place like this… it’s like living inside one of those dreams.

“I’d love that,” I say, feeling a spark of excitement at the idea. This place is like a maze of secrets, and part of me can’t wait to explore it.

Timur stands up, motioning for me to follow. “Come on. Let’s see if I can impress you even more.”

As I follow him out of the dining room, I can’t help but wonder if this night is about to get even more unexpected.

Chapter Four - Timur

As we walk through the house, I can’t help but steal glances at her. She’s pretty, there’s no denying that. Even in my oversized clothes, she has a natural beauty that doesn’t need all the flashy makeup and dresses. It’s the way she moves, the slight awkwardness in her steps as she tries to keep up, the curiosity in her eyes when she takes in her surroundings. She’s different—soft, in a way that makes me want to reach out and touch her, test how delicate she really is.

I lead her through the halls, pointing out rooms almost as an afterthought, but my focus isn’t on the tour anymore. It’s on her. Every time she glances at me, there’s a slight nervousness in her eyes, and I can’t tell if she’s scared or intrigued. Maybe both.

When we reach my room, I pause at the door. I push it open, stepping inside, and gesture for her to follow. “This is my room,” I say, watching her reaction closely.

She hesitates for a moment before stepping in, her eyes scanning the space. The large bed dominates the room, the dark sheets perfectly made, the low lighting casting a shadowy glow over everything.

I close the door behind her, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. She turns to look at me, and I can see the uncertainty in her eyes, but there’s something else too—something that’s drawing her in despite the uncertainty.

Without saying a word, I step closer to her, my hands finding her waist as I pull her toward me. Her body tenses for a second before she relaxes, her breath hitching as I lean in, my lips brushing against hers. She tastes sweet, and I deepen the kiss, feeling her melt against me, her hands gripping my arms for support.

I can feel the heat building between us, and I don’t hesitate as I push her back toward the bed. She stumbles slightly, but I catch her, pinning her down against the soft mattress. She looks up at me with wide eyes, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, her lips parted in anticipation.

I lower myself over her, my body pressing into hers as I capture her lips again, this time rougher, hungrier. She responds, her fingers tangling in my hair as she pulls me closer, like she wants more, like she needs more.

This is exactly what I want.

I pull back from her lips, just enough to see her face. Her breathing is shallow, her cheeks flushed with desire, and I can tell by the way she’s looking at me that she’s not entirely sure what’s happening, but she’s not resisting. If anything, she’s waiting for what comes next.

“You sure you want this?” My voice is low, rough, and I run a thumb along her jawline, teasing her, watching her eyes flutter shut at the light touch.

She nods, barely whispering a “yes,” but there’s something shy about it, like she’s embarrassed.

I lean down, brushing my lips over hers, just enough to feel the warmth of her breath. “Don’t be shy. If you want something, you say it,” I murmur against her lips. My hands drift down her body, feeling the curve of her waist before I settle at the button of her shorts. “Tell me what you want.”

Her breath hitches, and she swallows, her eyes meeting mine. There’s hesitation there, but not the kind that tells me to stop—more like she’s crossing a line she’s never crossed before.

“I… I want this,” she admits quietly, her voice barely audible.

I grin, liking the sound of that. “Good girl,” I whisper, pressing my lips to hers again, rougher this time. She gasps against my mouth as I work my fingers on the shorts, undoing the button with ease. The fabric is loose against her hips, but I take my time pulling them down, the sound of the zipper loud in the quiet room. I can feel her body tremble slightly beneath me, and that makes me want her more.

As I slide the shorts down her legs, I let my hands brush against her thighs, her skin soft and smooth. She bites her lip, clearly nervous, but there’s no doubt in her eyes now. She wants this. I can feel it.

“Anyone ever touched you like this before?” I ask, my voice thick as I bring my hand back up, tracing the curve of her leg, her waist, and finally resting my fingers just above her panties.

She shakes her head, looking away as if she’s embarrassed by the truth. “No.”

The confession does something to me. It ignites something deep inside, a possessiveness I wasn’t expecting. Knowing I’m the first, that no one else has had her like this, makes me want to claim her even more.

I lift her chin with my fingers, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t be embarrassed,” I say softly. “That just makes me like you more.”

Her eyes widen at that, but she doesn’t respond. She just watches me, her lips parted, waiting.

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