Page 64 of Married to the Bratva

“No,” I reply. “You were genuine. That’s what matters. Though I still can’t believe you told him I begged.”

Her head snaps toward me. “Still mad about that?”

My gaze locks onto hers, dark and unyielding. “You made me look weak.”

She huffs, crossing her arms as if to shield herself. “No, I made you look human. Big difference.”

Her words hang in the air, cutting sharper than I expect. I grip the wheel tighter, glancing at her again. Human. She has no idea what she’s unraveling.

46

SOPHIE

Maxim doesn’t take me to my bedroom. He takes me to his. “So this is where you sleep,” I say. “I half expected you spent the nights in a cave.”

"Take off your clothes," he orders, his voice leaving no room for refusal. I hesitate for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest, before obeying, my hands shaking as I slide my dress from my shoulders.

He watches me intently, his gaze hungry and relentless. When I'm naked, he steps forward and grips my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Look at me," he commands, his voice rough with desire.

I meet his gaze, my breath catching as I see the raw hunger in his eyes. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a low growl. "And you're mine."

With that, he lifts me effortlessly and carries me to the bed, his movements sure and confident. He lays me down and covers my body with his, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

“No one has ever slept in my bed,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear.

“So you sleep on the floor?”

He smiles. “You will learn tonight, what it means to belong to me."

His hand slides between my thighs, his fingers finding my heat with practiced ease. I gasp, my hips arching involuntarily as he begins to stroke me, his touch both gentle and insistent. "Tell me how much you want it," he demands, his voice a dark promise.

"I want it," I pant, my body trembling with need. "I want you."

"Good," he replies, his voice pleased. "Because you're going to get me.”

And with that, he plunges his fingers deeper, his touch sending waves of pleasure crashing over me.

I cry out as his tongue finds my clit, my nails digging into the sheets as he continues to bring me closer to the edge, his dark eyes watching me with rapt fascination.

"Come for me," he commands, his voice a harsh whisper from between my legs.

My body obeys his words before my mind can catch up. A tidal wave of sensation crashes over me, pulling me under as I arch into his touch.

The tension that’s been coiled tight inside me snaps, and I shatter, crying out his name. His fingers never falter, drawing out every last tremor until I’m trembling beneath his hands.

I collapse back against the sheets, gasping for air, my heart pounding like a drum.

His dark eyes are locked on me, filled with something I can’t quite name. Possession, yes, but there’s something softer beneath it—something that makes my chest ache.

He looks at me like I’m not just his captive, not just a tool in his plan, but something… more. And that’s terrifying in a way I’m not ready to face.

But it’s not just terror that’s creeping in. It’s something warmer, something that roots itself in my chest and refuses to let go.

I see flashes of what could be—a life where this intensity becomes devotion, where this passion transforms into love.

I imagine laughter filling this home, the warmth of a family we could build. Our child growing up here, both of us loving and caring with all our hearts.

The thought nearly undoes me. How did I get here? How did this man—this impossible, ruthless man—begin to occupy my thoughts, my dreams, my heart? I could tell him about the pregnancy. It would be the perfect time.

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