Page 13 of Secret Bratva Twins

“Driving in this weather would be dangerous,” I say, my tone calm but firm. “Stay the night.”

Her brow arches, a flicker of skepticism crossing her face. “What would we do, Serge? Stare at the rain until it stops?”

I let out a low chuckle and walk to the bar, pouring two glasses of whiskey. “We’ll talk,” I say, turning back to her with a smirk. “I find your company… engaging.”

Her eyes narrow, but there’s no malice in her gaze. She hesitates for a moment before slipping her coat off and settling onto the leather sofa. “Fine. Just for the record, I’m not the type to chat idly.”

“Good,” I reply, sitting beside her and handing her the drink. “Neither am I.”

The whiskey is smooth, warming my chest as I take a sip. She does the same, her movements graceful yet deliberate, her gaze flitting to the storm outside. The silence between us ischarged, heavy with unspoken words. When she finally looks at me, there’s a challenge in her eyes.

“So, Serge,” she says, her voice low and teasing, “is this your idea of hospitality? Inviting your rivals over for whiskey and… what, polite conversation?”

“You’re not a rival anymore, Chiara,” I say, leaning closer. “At least, not tonight.”

She doesn’t flinch, but her breathing deepens, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the storm outside. “You’re dangerously charming, you know that?”

“I do,” I reply, my voice dropping. “You don’t seem the type to be easily swayed.”

Her lips part slightly, and for a brief moment, the world outside ceases to exist. I can feel the heat radiating off her, the tension between us so taut it feels like it might snap at any moment. Her eyes flicker to my lips, just for a second, but it’s enough.

I set my glass down and lean in, my hand brushing against her cheek. “Tell me to stop,” I murmur.

She doesn’t. Instead, her breath hitches, and when I press my lips to hers, she meets me halfway. The kiss is slow at first, a tentative exploration that quickly deepens. Her hands move to my shoulders, her nails grazing my skin through the fabric of my shirt.

I pull her closer, one hand slipping to the small of her back as the other tangles in her hair. Her taste is intoxicating, the perfect blend of whiskey and something uniquely her. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t hesitate, and that only spurs me on.

The storm rages outside, but here, in this moment, everything else fades. When we finally break apart, her cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen.

The moment hangs heavy between us, the charged air thick with tension. Her laugh fades, and our eyes lock, a silent challenge passing between us. I lean in again, capturing her lips with mine, this time with more force, more intent. She gasps softly against my mouth, her hesitation melting into something bolder as she kisses me back with equal fervor.

I slide my hand down to her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us. Her fingers curl into my hair, tugging just enough to spur me on. The kiss grows hungrier, deeper, as if we’re testing each other’s limits. I push her back slightly, watching the way her chest rises and falls with each rapid breath.

“You taste even better when you’re not trying to argue with me,” I murmur, my voice low and teasing.

Her lips curve into a smirk. “You’re even more insufferable when you think you’ve won.”

I laugh, the sound dark and rough. “Oh, Chiara,” I say, my grip on her tightening as I guide her toward the bedroom. “I always win.”

Before she can respond, I sweep her up into my arms. Her eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t protest. She wraps her arms around my neck as I carry her through the doorway, kicking it shut behind us. The storm outside feels like it’s mirrored in here, the tension crackling with each step I take.

I set her down on the bed, but instead of sinking into it, she plants her hands behind her, propping herself up as she regards me with a raised brow. “Is this where I’m supposed to swoon?”

I chuckle, unbuttoning the top of my shirt, my gaze never leaving hers. “That depends. Are you planning to make this difficult?”

She shrugs, her smirk widening. “Maybe. I like to keep things interesting.”

I lean down, my hands on either side of her hips, caging her in. “I can handle interesting,” I say, my voice a rough whisper. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

Her smirk falters for a moment, replaced by something else—curiosity, maybe, or anticipation. She shifts slightly, her body brushing against mine, and it takes everything in me not to pin her down right then and there.

“I don’t submit easily,” she says, her tone defiant.

“Good,” I reply, my hand trailing up her thigh. “I like a challenge.”

I tug her closer, one swift motion that has her flat against the mattress. Her laughter turns into a soft gasp as I press my body against hers, pinning her wrists above her head. My cock strains against my pants as I unzip, and it springs free. Thick and long, it lays against Chiara’s inner thigh.

She arches beneath me, her breathing quickening as my lips trail down her neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. When I enter her, she lets out a strangled sound so delicious, I could devour her.

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