Page 41 of Brutal Bratva King

He snarls the accusation at me as though I am to blame for his foul mood and stupid choices this evening.

I chuckle softly, shaking my head. His eyes flare with darkness.

“You’re notsoft, Rodion.”

His eyes lift and lock with mine. My gaze is gentle when I speak. “There is nothing wrong with you. You just discovered your conscience—that’s all.”

His grip on my wrists relaxes and I wiggle free.

The muscles along his jaw relax a little, too. I reach up and trace my hand over his face, around his cuts and bruises. “There isn’t anything wrong with caring about other people, Rodion,” I whisper. He is watching me closely.

I feel his hands move onto my thighs, running up my legs, slowly moving over my body until they are resting on my waist. The tension in the air grows thicker and more intense.

My heart beats rapidly and my throat becomes tight with nervous excitement. I want to lean forward and kiss him, but I’m terrified of him rejecting me again. I don’t know how he feels about me so it’s difficult to make such a bold move.

Electricity is shooting up my spine as I brush my thumb over his lips. He opens his mouth and wraps his lips around my thumb. I gasp softly, the warm sensation of his tongue against my finger is a tease I was not expecting.

Slowly, I pull my finger from his mouth, watching his lips move, then I lean forward, my body pressing into his as he wraps his arms tighter around me.

My lips are on his, his tongue playing inside my mouth. He groans deeply.

Rodion slips his hands beneath my t-shirt and his touch on my bare skin is twice as potent. I can’t handle this. I need him so badly. I’ve been needing him for weeks, frustrated and desperate.

Deepening the kiss, I run my fingers up the back of his neck and lower myself down onto his lap. His cock is hard against me.

But instead of the moment between us becoming more charged, I feel him go rigid and tense and I lean back, confused.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper nervously.

He lifts me straight off his lap and sets me down on my feet next to him.

He stands up and shakes his head. “This isn’t happening,” he snarls.

“Please, tell me, what’swrong?” I ask again, feeling miserable that he pushed me away again.

“I can’t kiss you, Anya. I can’t do anything with you,” he snaps at me, moody and aggressive.

“Why not?”

“Because I have aconsciencenow. If I kiss you and you aren’t willing, I will feel too guilty. So, I should rather avoid it altogether.”

He turns around and storms out of the bathroom and I stand there in shock with my mouth open and my words frozen in my throat.

Is this why he stopped the last time, too?

Because I’m not ‘willing’. But how did he not see that I was the one who started that whole situation?

I chew at my bottom lip, lost in thoughts that are laced with confusion.

I know I said in the beginning that I would never be with him, but can’t he see that things have changed now?

I swallow away the lump in my throat and quickly wipe my hand across my face to brush away the tears.

A sharp sting of pain settles in my chest.

After a moment, I sigh heavily, pack away the first aid kit and head up to my room. That didn’t go well at all, in fact, I think I made it worse between us. But I’m angry about how he handles things.

Is that fair of me? Am Ithe one to blame for all of this?

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