Page 57 of Secret Bratva Twins

Her gaze flicks to mine, a flicker of mischief crossing her face. “Maybe I am,” she says, her tone lilting, playful in a way that sets my blood on fire.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur, the tension between us simmering just below the surface. She stays close to me, her presence a constant distraction as we navigate the crowd. By the time we leave, my patience is wearing thin.

The car ride home starts quietly, the hum of the engine filling the space as the driver navigates the city streets. Chiara sits beside me, her posture relaxed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the leather armrest.

“Tonight went well,” she says finally, breaking the silence.

“It did,” I reply, watching her out of the corner of my eye.

She glances at me, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You didn’t have to defend me back there, you know. I can handle a few snide comments.”

“Maybe,” I say, turning to face her fully. “You’re still my wife. No one disrespects my wife.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, though there’s no real anger there. “Your wife,” she repeats, her tone teasing. “You do love reminding me of that, don’t you?”

I smirk, leaning closer. “It’s a title I take seriously.”

Her laughter is soft, almost melodic, and it sends a rush of heat through me. “You’re impossible,” she says, shaking her head.

“You’re testing me,” I reply, my voice low.

Her gaze meets mine, a flicker of challenge in her eyes. “Am I?”

The playful tone in her voice pushes me over the edge. I lean forward, pressing the intercom button. “Stop the car.”

The driver glances at me through the rearview mirror, hesitating. “Here, sir?”

“Yes,” I snap. “You can leave early tonight.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll drive us home when we’re done.”

The car slows to a halt at the edge of a quiet street, the glow of the city lights casting long shadows across the interior. I turn to Chiara, my voice firm. “I don’t want to wait until we’re home.”

Her brows lift in surprise, but there’s no hesitation in her movements. She slides a leg over me, her dress brushing against the leather seats as she settles.

The air in the confined space is thick with tension, her perfume wrapping around me like a challenge.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” she murmurs, her voice soft but teasing.

I lean closer, my hands bracing on either side of her as I cage her in. “And you’re driving me insane,” I reply, my voice rough with the heat I’ve been holding back all night.

Her lips part, but whatever she was about to say is lost as I claim her mouth with mine. The kiss is rough, demanding, my hands sliding to her waist and pulling her closer.

She gasps against my lips, her hands coming up to press against my chest, though whether it’s to push me away or pull me closer, I can’t tell. Her resistance is fleeting, her body melting into mine as the kiss deepens.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” I growl against her lips, my fingers tangling in her hair. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

Her breath hitches, her voice trembling as she replies, “Maybe.”

The single word is enough to snap the last thread of my restraint. I trail my lips down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there as my hands slide over the curve of her hips. She arches against me, her soft gasps filling the space between us.

The scent of her perfume is intoxicating, a mix of vanilla and jasmine that clings to her skin, mingling with the faint leather and spice of the car’s interior. It’s a heady combination, fueling the fire burning through me.

Her hands grip my shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of my shirt as she tilts her head back, giving me more access. “Serge,” she whispers, her voice shaky but laced with something darker, something needful.

I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, my hand cupping her cheek as I run my thumb over her flushed skin. “You’re mine, Chiara,” I say, my voice low but unyielding. “Every part of you.”

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