Page 23 of Brutal Bratva King

Her eyes flare for a second and she shifts in her seat.

She doesn’t reply.

“In fact, I think we should make it a kitchen rule from now on.”

Anya gasps and stares at me—then realizes I’m joking and squishes her lips together to try and hide the grin.

“Your apron will be too big for me. So, unfortunately, it won’t work,” she quips back.

“Oh, sweetheart. I will order you an apron in every color under the sun if you stick to that rule.”

Her cheeks flush pink.

I can’t help but push a little further. “I won’t be able to promise you that much cooking will get done, though.”

Her cheeks are glowing so fiercely hot I see straight through her. She wants me.

Her act last night was—I don’t know what the hell it was, but it’s so obvious that she wants me.

We eat the rest of our dinner with little comments flying back and forth between us, steadily building up the tension. The air in the house is quickly becoming charged. It feels explosive, as though any moment now, we are both going to give in to our desires.

She stands up, gathering the empty plates.

I pick up the leftover pasta and carry the bowl to the kitchen behind her. My eyes are on her hips, the way her summer dress flares over her ass. When she walks, it flips up slightly, teasing me.

She stands by the sink, rinsing the plates.

“Leave that. The housekeeper will sort it out tomorrow morning.” I step right behind her, leaning against her back and pinning her to the counter.

She hesitates but doesn’t push me away. I run my hand up the front of her body, caressing her breast and then wrapping my fingers around her throat.

I tilt her head back and press my lips against hers.

Her breathing quickens, but she moves to press her lips slightly harder against mine, opening her mouth to tease me with her tongue.

The kiss is slow and tender at first. I don’t dare say innocent because my body is a raging fire of explosive desire.

Anya moans softly against my mouth and my cock becomes so hard it aches. I push myself against her ass, letting her know I want her.

She still doesn’t push me away, so I turn her around, pick her up and lift her onto the kitchen counter. Pushing myself between her legs, she is forced to spread her legs open around my hips.

Grabbing the back of her neck, I kiss her again, she runs her hands up my chest, her fingers leaving heated trails of fire wherever she touches me.

She is tugging at my shirt, pulling the buttons loose. I slip my hand beneath her dress, pushing it up over her hips.

I dip my fingers inside her and she moans loudly, pushing forward against my hand.

Fuck. She is so sexy.

I tug my pants open, freeing my cock and her eyes are locked onto it.

She holds her breath for a second, frozen, unsure, but then pushes her legs open wider. She leans back, resting her hands on the kitchen counter behind herself.

Her posture is tense, though.

Something has changed.

She won’t look me in the eyes. In fact, she is looking everywhere but at me.

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