Page 15 of Captured By the Bratva

Abruptly. I withdrew the knife and retreated to stand on the bed.

A keening cry slipped from her. She bucked, her stomach tensing as she thrust into the air as though she followed my shadow.

“No.”

I watched her protest, eyes cloudy with desire and impatience. Frustration too. She stared up at me, her breaths labored. Scowling, she kept a close watch as I lifted my knife and licked the hilt, tasting her tangy cream.

“You fucking asshole.”

“Gonna talk now?”

She growled, flailing at her bindings. When she stuck with growls and grunts, clenched teeth and sneers, I shrugged.

“I refuse to play games with you!”

I ignored her wrath, walking around the bed and willing my erection to give up on her. Thiswasa game. And I would be the winner.

A swift slice through the ties at her ankles had her halfway freed.

Then another cut through the tie to the headboard lowered her trembling arms. Whether she shook from fear, anger, or disappointment at having her orgasm withheld, I didn’t know.

But I’d let her stew on it.

Leaving her again, I ignored the sounds of her protests and fury.

I slammed the door, locking it as I dropped my brow to the wood.

Breathing hard, I struggled to regain my composure.

She was too sexy. Too inviting, a challenge I didn’t want to quit on.

Fuck, does she get to me.

But this was a game. A ploy. I had to remember that.

Becca was a hostage. A means to an end. And I hated that she got under my skin so much, turned me on so quickly that I was starting to lose sight of that.

As I calmed down, waiting to erase the image of her spread out on that bed, sucking my knife into her cunt and making me wish it were my dick, I lost sight of that.

I couldn’t afford to go weak around her.

Walking away, I vowed not to.

I’d be damned if a sweet innocent like her—a hostage and pawn in this feud—could threaten my determination to find and kill her father.

6

BECCA

Ivan slammed the door and locked it. Theclickreached my ears like a final sound, almost as though it was the last word of that interaction. He was in charge. I couldn’t mistake the dynamic going on here.

What I couldn’t understand was why he’d slashed through the ties keeping me in place. He wanted to keep me captive, that much was obvious. No windows gave me a chance to escape here. Nothing for a weapon to defend myself should he come back, as if I could survive attacking him or getting physical.

My hands shook as I scrambled off the bed and hurried to fetch my shorts and panties. Little good they would do me now. Since he’d… he’d…

Oh, God.I couldn’t even go there. The thought of him using a knife, the hard handle like that to tease me and insert it into where I’d gotten so wet and slippery with arousal…

A sob rose up my throat, but I swallowed it down. If he could hear me through that door, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was reacting to what he did.

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