Page 33 of Brutal Bratva King

My body is still very much responding to Rodion being so close to me and now he wants me to take my clothing off.

I sigh, then lift my top over my head, carefully sliding my arm out of the sleeve. The top is ruined. Even though it’s a darker color, and the blood isn’t showing too much, there is a tear in the sleeve, and it will be stained.

I glance up at Rodion. He’s staring at me.

It makes my body flare with desire.

He notices me watching him, clears his throat really loudly and picks up the gauze and alcohol.

“This is going to sting. Sorry, but I have to put it on to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Ok,” I say, already gritting my teeth against the pain that hasn’t started yet.

He pours some alcohol onto the gauze, takes my arm gently in his hand and raises his brows—giving me a look to warn me. I nod.

He wipes across the open wound. It isn’t a deep injury, but it burns like fire shooting into my arm.

I whimper and wince away from his touch, but he grips my arm a little tighter, forcing me to handle the pain.

“It’s almost over, princess, bear with me.”

I nod again, unable to speak.

When he’s done wiping it clean, he steps away and tosses the bloodied gauze in the bin nearby.

“Do you do this often? First aid, I mean?” I ask, my words tight.

I just want to distract myself.

“I’ve done it enough times to know what I’m doing,” he chuckles, picking up fresh gauze, pressing it over the wound, much gentler this time. He holds it there while he unravels the start of a bandage.

His fingers against my skin are like a low thrum of electricity running through me.

I sigh softly, trying to ignore the impulses heating between my legs.

“You ok?”

“Yup., I say a little too clipped.

Between his touch now and his masculine display of aggression earlier,all I actually want to do is ask him to take me—right here on the office desk. My body is screaming for it.

“You—um—you are really good at fighting,” I say quietly, distracting myself again from my own thoughts and my body's reaction.

He carefully wraps the bandage around my arm.

“I have to be. I never know when I’ll need it.”

“So, you fight often?”

“No, not if I can help it. I don’t go looking for unnecessary fights if that’s what you are asking. But if someone comes at me, I’m certainly not going to let them get away with it.”

He tapes the end of the bandage down, then runs his hands over my arm. “Does that feel ok? It’s not too tight, is it?”

My body shudders with delight as the heat from his hands seeps into me.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper.

“You sure you're ok? You look a little flushed.”

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