Page 16 of Married to the Bratva

He’s got some clothes in one hand and a bottle of something in the other. He doesn’t speak right away, his gaze sweeping the room until it lands on me. For a moment, neither of us moves.

“You’re still here,” he says finally, his voice low, teasing. “I half-expected you to climb out the window.”

“Believe me, I thought about it,” I say, trying for sarcasm but failing to keep the breathlessness out of my voice.

He smirks, taking a slow step toward me. “And?”

“And I realized I’m twenty floors up,” I reply, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “Even I’m not that reckless.”

“Good,” he says, stopping a few feet away. “I’d hate to see you hurt yourself.”

There’s something in his tone—something softer, quieter—that sets my nerves on edge. He’s looking at me like he’s seeing something he doesn’t quite understand, and I don’t know what to do with that.

“You don’t know what to do with me,” I say, my voice wavering slightly. “Do you?”

He takes another step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “You’re not predictable like most people. I don’t like that.”

I let out a sharp laugh, the sound cracking the tension like glass. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m predictable. I’m the girl who trusted the wrong man, ended up in the wrong place, and is now being lectured by the guy who kidnapped her.”

His smirk fades, replaced by something more serious. “You’re a lot more than that.”

The words hit me like a punch, knocking the breath from my lungs. “What?”

“You’re smart,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Brave, even when you shouldn’t be. And you don’t back down, even when it’s not in your best interest. You’re a contradiction, Sophie Hale.”

When his hand reaches up, his fingers brushing against my cheek, I don’t pull away. His touch is warm, his palm rough and calloused against my skin, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t do this,” I say. “It’s a bad idea.”

“What is?”

“What you’re about to do.”

“Probably,” he replies, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. “But you don’t make the decisions around here. I do.”

12

SOPHIE

He closes the distance between us, pressing his lips to mine.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I feel the heat of him as the kiss intensifies, his tongue probing my mouth like he wants to eat me alive.

The air around us changes, crackling with energy. My hands find his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm and smooth under my fingers.

He smells like leather and something sharper, something that makes my head spin. I don’t know what I’m doing—don’t know why I’m doing this—but I can’t stop.

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his breath warm against my lips. “Sophie,” he says, his voice rough.

The fire crackles softly, the only sound in the suite other than our uneven breathing. He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, and I feel the heat of him, the weight of his presence surrounding me.

This isn’t supposed to happen. I’m not supposed to feel like this—safe and terrified all at once.

He looks like he’s fighting the same battle I am.

His hands find my waist, firm and possessive, and he lifts me effortlessly, carrying me through to his bedroom.

“This is insane,” I whisper as he lays me on the bed.

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