Page 22 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

My thoughts and my body are fully at war with each other.

I can’t seem to pull myself together.

I feel her hands run over my back as I fight the urge to tear her clothes from her body.

“Avra—,“ she shakily says my name. It’s all I need to yank myself back to reality. My name on her lips makes me angry.

I picture the way I saw Royce handling her and I realize—she must have done the same thing to him. She must have used her body to manipulate him as well. No wonder he acted so strangely around her—like he’d lost his mind.

The anger grips deeper, long fingers with long claws that embed themselves in my chest. I hate the fact that she can so easily throw herself around like that. Her body should never be used as a tool. Not like that. Not to taunt men. She is using herself more than them.

And I don’t want anyone else to even look at her that way when she belongs to me—

Fuck.

No.

I need to get away from her. I’m not behaving like myself.

She is infecting my thoughts. Her siren song has poisoned me.

I push off the bed, hurriedly moving away from her, not daring to look at her in case it undoes this ounce of self-control I have managed to pull together.

My cock is furious. Throbbing and angry that I am not giving it what it wants. That I am not taking what I want when it is right there—so easy—so ready.

For a minute all I can do is stand next to the bed with my back to her. I can’t move, I can’t think clearly.

I can smell her on my skin, I can still feel the remanence of her touch on my body. Squeezing my eyes tightly closed, I take a deep breath.

I hear her moving on the bed behind me, but I still don’t turn to look at her. I can’t.

I’m so angry at myself for how possessive I feel about her. How upset I am that she must have used this tactic on other men. Royce for one.

She lures them in, gives them what they want—and gets what she wants.

When I’ve pulled myself together enough, I walk out of the room.

Without saying anything to her or glancing back over my shoulder.

I lock her bedroom door behind myself, confident that she is secured there on the bed. When my mind is clearer, I will decide how to handle this.

For now I need to have an ice cold shower—and just be far away from her.

***

During the course of the morning, I have two guards and one of the female housekeepers escort her to the bathroom and stand outside the door while she showers. My reasoning is that if there is more than one person, she can’t play tricks or try her methods on any of them. They have been instructed not to say a word to her.

Then, they are ordered to lock her right back up on the bedpost.

I haven’t been able to go back into the room yet, but I know I will have to at some point.

For now, I want to focus on other things.

I have her. That was my plan all along, to kidnap her and disrupt her brothers' business. I want to take down the Kuznetsovs, throw them into array and panic.

I’m sitting in my home office, staring blankly at my laptop screen, when one of my personnel comes into my office.

“Sir, we have news.”

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