Page 14 of Secret Bratva Twins

“Still think I’m insufferable?” I murmur against her skin.

“Absolutely,” she breathes, though her voice is shaky.

I grin, my teeth grazing the delicate curve of her shoulder. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

She lets out a soft laugh, though it’s cut off by a sharp intake of breath as I begin to thrust. Her body reacts to mine, her defiance giving way to something deeper, something primal. She doesn’t submit easily, no, but she doesn’t need to. I fuck her hard, hands tightening around her wrists as I pin her helplessly andfuck,it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

“You like this,” I say, my voice a dark whisper. “Don’t you?”

She doesn’t answer, but the way her walls clench around me is all the confirmation I need. I release her wrists, trailing my hands down her sides as I claim her mouth again, my kiss bruising and possessive. She matches my intensity, her fingers tangling in my hair and pulling me closer.

The storm outside howls, but it’s nothing compared to the one inside this room. She comes with a cry, body arching before going still. It’s enough to make me unravel, spilling inside of her. Thick, hot come leaks from her hole as I finally collapse at her side.

By the time we’re both out of breath, lying tangled in the sheets, I can’t help but grin at the sight of her. Chiara Vinci, a woman who doesn’t submit easily, lying beside me with her hair a mess and her lips swollen from my kisses.

“You’re trouble,” she says, her voice soft but edged with amusement.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Her eyes narrow as she props herself up on one elbow, her hair cascading over her bare shoulder. “I need a minute,” she says, her tone firm. “You don’t get to boss me around, Sharov.”

I lean closer, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Don’t I? You’re in my bed, in my house, Chiara. You’ll do as I say.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she might lash out, but instead, she fixes me with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “I’m not your toy,” she snaps. “I don’t belong to you.”

The fire in her voice is enough to make my pulse quicken. God, she’s infuriating, but it only makes me want her more. I sitback, crossing my arms over my chest as I regard her, my grin widening. “You don’t belong to me yet,” I say, my voice low and deliberate. “Still, let’s not pretend you don’t enjoy this as much as I do.”

She rolls her eyes, pulling the sheets higher around her chest as if shielding herself from me. “I don’t need your permission to enjoy myself,” she retorts.

“Clearly,” I say, the smirk still firmly in place. “Don’t think for a second you can resist me when you want this just as much as I do.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks away, as though gathering her composure. She’s strong, but I can see the cracks in her armor, the way her chest rises and falls with each measured breath. It’s not submission; it’s restraint. Damn it, if it doesn’t make me respect her even more.

“Fine,” I say after a moment, leaning back against the headboard. “Take your minute, Chiara. Rest if you must. I’ll allow it—this time.”

Her eyes snap back to mine, and she raises a brow. “How generous of you,” she says, sarcasm dripping from every word.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” she replies coolly, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair. She doesn’t look at me, her focus on smoothing out the tangle of emotions in her expression.

I can’t help but admire the view—her long, slender frame, the way her skin glows in the dim light. She’s captivating in every sense of the word, and it’s not just her body that holds my attention. It’s her mind, her fire, her refusal to let anyone—including me—dictate who she is or what she does.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve met before,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Her gaze flickers to me, surprise flashing in her eyes before she smirks. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Sharov. You’ll ruin your reputation.”

I laugh, leaning in just enough to brush my lips against hers, soft and teasing. “Don’t worry, Chiara. My reputation is the least of my concerns.”

Chapter Six - Chiara

The cold, crisp air of Chicago’s fall wraps around me as I stand before my father’s grave. The polished marble headstone gleams in the fading afternoon light, his name etched boldly across its surface.Fernando Vinci.A name that once commanded respect and fear in equal measure, now reduced to a slab of stone and memories that burn too brightly.

I kneel, placing a bouquet of white lilies at the base. They were his favorite. He always said they symbolized purity, though purity was the last thing associated with his legacy. “Ciao, Papa,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I haven’t forgotten. I promise.”

The promise is what keeps me going, the one thing that grounds me when my resolve begins to falter. Like now. The past month has been a distraction, one I hadn’t anticipated. Serge Sharov. The name alone stirs a tumult of emotions—desire, anger, confusion. I hate that he’s in my head, his smirk haunting me at every turn. I hate that I let myself get close to him, forgetting, even for a moment, why I’m here.

My fingers tighten around the stems of the lilies as the conflicting emotions bubble up inside me. A part of me feels something for him. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me—there’s a pull there, undeniable and maddening. Then there’s the other part, the one that reminds me of my father lying lifeless in a pool of his own blood. The one that whispers Serge deserves the same fate.

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