Page 69 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I quip, trying to inject some humor into the moment.

He raises an eyebrow. “Take off your socks.”

I blink at him, surprised. “Why?”

“I’m going to help,” he replies matter-of-factly.

I hesitate, but the exhaustion wins out, and I sit back, letting him tug off my socks. His hands are warm as they wrap around my ankle, his touch firm but gentle as he begins to massage the arch of my foot.

A sigh escapes me, unbidden, and I sink further into the bed. “I hate to admit it,” I mumble, “but that feels… amazing.”

His lips twitch in amusement. “You sound surprised.”

“Maybe because I am,” I reply, a teasing edge creeping into my voice. “Didn’t think someone like you had a soft side.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his fingers working over a particularly tense spot. Then he smirks, his gaze lifting to meet mine. “Don’t get used to it,” he says, his voice low.

The words are playful, but the tone sends a shiver down my spine.

His hands move up, kneading the swollen flesh of my calves, and I close my eyes, letting the warmth of his touch soothe me. Then his fingers trail higher, skimming above my knee, and my breath catches.

“Makar,” I murmur, my voice faltering.

His lips curve into a wicked smile as he leans closer, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just above my knee. “Hmm?” he hums, his voice dark and teasing.

“That’s not… exactly medicinal,” I manage, my heart racing.

His blue eyes gleam as he lifts his head, his expression a mix of mischief and something far more dangerous. “Who said I was practicing medicine?”

Heat floods my face, but I can’t deny the way my body responds to him, the way my pulse quickens under his gaze.

He shifts, his hands bracing on either side of my hips as he leans over me. His presence is overwhelming, and I’m acutely aware of every inch of him—the sharp angles of his jaw, the brightness of his eyes, the faint scent of his cologne.

“You drive me insane,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he leans closer.

I swallow hard, my breath hitching as his lips hover just above mine. “I could say the same about you,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

His smirk returns, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—something raw and unguarded. He closes the distance, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.

It’s hungry, demanding, a clash of emotions neither of us is willing to name. His hands move to my waist, gripping me firmly as he presses me further into the mattress.

I respond without thinking, my fingers curling into his shirt as I kiss him back with equal intensity. Every nerve in my body feels alive, every thought drowned out by the heat of the moment.

Makar shifts, straddling me, his weight pinning me in place. His hands trail up my sides, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt, and I shiver at the feel of his fingers on my skin.

“You shouldn’t… do this,” I murmur against his lips, though the words lack conviction.

“Why not?” he murmurs back, his voice low and teasing.

“Because….” My words trail off as his lips move to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Because?” he prompts, his hands moving higher, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

I don’t answer, too caught up in the way he’s unraveling me, piece by piece.

I feel his palm flatten against the curve of my belly, his fingers splaying out to trace the gentle swell. His lips leave mine, trailing down to my jaw, then to my neck, leaving a line of heat in their wake.

“Makar,” I murmur, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own pounding heart.

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