Page 56 of Brazen King

I can taste the tart, fruity flavor of the red wine served with dinner. It lingers on her lips, making them all the more tempting. And though I know I’m pushing my luck, I let my hand trail down the soft, flat plane of her stomach to her hip and along her thigh until I find the hem of her dress.

A shuddering breath rushes past her lips and into my mouth as I hike up the stretchy fabric so I can find the heat between her thighs. My fingers graze the soft, silken flesh of her inner thighs as she presses her knees together.

But she doesn’t stop me.

And as my fingers brush across the lacy fabric covering the peak of her thighs, Natasha releases a lusty and entirely too enticing groan.

She quivers against me, her lips moving with mine in a sensual dance. And I know she’s nearly putty in my hands.

If I don’t stop now, I won’t be strong enough to stop myself later.

So, with an iron will, I slowly withdraw my hand and break our kiss. Still, I keep her pinned to the wall with my hips, our bodies separated only by thin layers of fabric.

“Well?” I murmur. “Am I any closer to convincing you to marry me?” I tease, meeting her molten gaze.

“No,” she breathes defiantly, her chin tipping up to reinforce her conviction.

But the flush of her cheeks, the way she’s practically panting with need tells me a different story.

And when I step back, she almost follows me.

I smirk, undeterred by her rejection. Because as desperately as she wants to deny me, I can feel that I’m slowly but steadily breaking down her walls.

“You can’t keep denying your feelings forever,” I promise her, relishing just how unsteady she suddenly appears on her feet.

Natasha keeps her body braced against the wall, her knees pressed together to stay standing, and I know that if I stroked my fingers through her folds, I would find them slick and swollen and ready for me.

“I’m not,” she states furiously, but her words lack punch when she sounds so breathy.

And my cock twitches with the need to teach her a lesson for lying. “You’ll be mine one day, Natasha. I recommend you start getting used to the idea,” I assure her.

Then I stalk out the door.

24

NATASHA

My heart feels as though it’s intent on leaving my chest to exit the room with Killian, and I watch in stunned silence as his broad shoulders clear the doorframe and he disappears into the hall.

What is wrong with me?

I can’t tell if what’s between us is real or if he’s just toying with me. It feels dangerously close to being real. And if it is, I’m even less sure that it would be a good thing.

Pushing shakily off the wall, I quickly pull myself back together and follow him.

My family is waiting on the other side of the door, slack-jawed, all three sets of eyes following the Irish mafia boss as he and his guard stalk arrogantly toward the entry. And when the elevator doors slide closed behind them, the silence that follows is agonizing.

Slowly, Tatiana and my father turn to look at me, bafflement written plainly across their faces.

“What thehellwas that?” my father asks. “Why is he still alive?”

One of Tatiana’s perfectly shaped eyebrows arches as she silently asks the same question, and my mother’s soft gaze sweeps over me with keen interest. Heat pools in my cheeks, and I scramble for a reason that won’t completely expose my inner turmoil.

“I couldn’t kill him without destroying my cover—I mean, half the building saw him arrive, and he had his guard with him, right? Powerful as we are, I don’t know that we would get away with taking out the Irish mafia boss unscathed. So I thought it best to continue playing the soft-spoken young lady he expects me to be.”

My father’s face darkens. “Does that mean you entertained his idea of getting married?” he presses. After all, if I weren’t going to murder Killian—if I were just another young, innocent Bratva princess—the match really would make sense. To protect my family if nothing else.

It’s an offer any number of other mafia families would consider seriously. And if I had a father who followed tradition more closely, Killian’s proposal might not be considered outlandish at all. But I’m not just some weak young damsel who expects her fate to be dictated by her father. And for that, I’m grateful.

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