Page 30 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

The only comfort I’ve got is the bleak gloom of a slate gray Chicago sky, and the rain falling against its glass panes. I plop myself on the cream couch, turning on the TV for background noise and sipping water. I’m not watching the TV, just staring atit. There’s not much else I can do, but Ryurik can’t keep stalling, he has to do something.

An hour later, I’m granted my opportunity, standing up to the creak of the door, Ryurik walking in, startling me. He’s unassumingly diabolical with his wild, shaggy hair and green eyes. He looks nothing like a Russian Mafia killer should, not at first glance, especially if he decides to smile, but it’s the details that slip unnoticed that reveal the truth. The tension held like a loaded spring ready to pop. The big fireball of passionate intensity you feel when you stand next to him, and the laser beam of heat that sears like a warm fire as it burns through you with one glance. Yes. That’s Ryurik, standing in front of him now, the heat is almost unbearable.

Crossing my arms, I take my own form of a stand the best way I can. “What do you plan to do with me?”

Ryurik’s eyes bear down on me, a dirty smirk on his lips. “What do I plan to do with you? Hmm, that’s a good question.” His eyes shift up and down my body, leaving me feeling vulnerable and naked. I hold my arms tighter against my chest.

“You can’t keep me here without a problem coming up. They’re going to come looking for me.”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Ryurik. The FBI. The Chicago police force. You killed Willy Dee. What do you think they’re going to do?”

Challenging him, I stand in place, holding what little ground I can. Ryurik startles me, tucking his finger under my chin, thinking the same way I have, bringing my closet of fears to the surface.

“And what do you think your boss is going to do when he finds out you’re carrying my baby? If I’m a cop killer, thenyou’re a Mafia lover,” he hisses aggressively, a tiny sprinkle of spit landing on my lip.

“I didn’t know who you were then.”

Ryurik scoffs, the heat between us palpable enough for us both to catch fire. “You think they’re going to believe that? Do you really think if this thing goes to trial, you’re going to get off? You never will. You’ll have to leave the force. It would be a gross misconduct.” Anger steams off the top of my head as I grind my teeth together. I hate feeling powerless and Ryurik is determined to strip away all parts of my dignity.

“I should arrest you. Right now,” I tell him, but my body reacting with a longing ache for his deft touch. It’s some weird type of muscle memory that makes me want to touch the curve of his chest—to lay my head there in the same position as when we slept together.

Ryurik laughs for a hot second, but it quickly whips into a barren stare down. “Listen, Wilson, you’re the one under house arrest, and you need to take care of your nutrition. If something happens to my child, I won’t ever let you find peace. Do we have an understanding?”

Wanting to defy him, I consider how much fuel I have in the tank, taking a wrong chance, but not caring. Pushing him in the chest, I throw him off balance, and as soon as I feel him under my palm, I want my hand to stick. Ryurik withstands the push, grabbing my hand and snatching me in so hard to his chest, the wind’s knocked out of me. I feel him breathing on me, his nostrils slightly flared, my wrist burning from the stronghold.

“You can’t keep me here,” I tell him again softly, the pressure of his hard body against mine exciting me in such a wrong, wrong way.

“It looks like it’s too late for that. You’re mine.”

“I’m not a toy for you to keep.”

Ryurik lets go of my wrist, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. “No, you’re not a toy, but you are carrying my child, and that makes you mine. Don’t you want to be mine?” he whispers, my breath catching in my throat as my arms light up with goose bumps.

Ryurik notices the shift in my body language, skimming a finger down the side of my body with a cocky grin. “No,” I reply with mild pushback, my body and mind betraying me, reminding me of the shower gel sliding with the slippery entry of Ryurik’s hand between my thighs.

“No?” his voice lifts, his green eyes considering me with wry amusement, his hands starting a hypnotic massage at the base of my neck as I let out an involuntary groan, surprising myself.Shit. This isn’t the plan. I’m a cop, and he’s a criminal. No. Resist. Don’t let him touch you.

“No,” I reply with a touch more command, but it’s got nothing behind it.

“Feel good?” Ryurik asks, defying my answer, a cute, almost endearing smile rising on his face, his eyes on my mouth.Yes. Kiss me. Do something to take me out of this. That’s something I’ll accept.

“Yes,” I admit, because my body’s already told a lie to him.

“Good. Did you like the bed,” he whispers in a lullaby, his hand travelling down my spine, making me want to fold and head to bed with him.

“Yes. It’s comfortable, but that’s not what we’re talking about here,” I tell him as he tucks my hair behind my ear, open tenderness in his eyes.

“No. It’s not, is it?” he purrs back, his hand dipping dangerously low to the top of my ass.Yes. Ryurik touch me.The same way you touched me when we met.My mouth parts as Ryurik stares down at me through his lashes.

“No,” I croon as he licks his lips, his mouth forming a crooked smile, and I expect it now. The caress of his hands are telling me so. Pressing my eyes shut, I wait for Ryurik to kiss me, but there’s nothing but air between us. Slowly, feeling shunned, I open my eyes.

“You will wait.”

Gasping, I shudder, loathing my craving for him. “Wait for what?”

“Until we get married.” Confused, I look at him, straining and repeating back the sentence I want nothing to do with.

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