Page 23 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

I glanced back at the sexy tattoo, my lips curling into a sly grin. “For a virgin, you've got some bold choices.” The sound of the zipper closing was a quiet hiss, a sensory detail that only added to the tension between us.

Her body stiffened in response to my action, my hands daring to travel down her curves, cautious not to awaken the defensive part of her.

The fabric was smooth beneath my palms, and I leaned toward her neck to inhale her intoxicating scent. She stood still, her muscles slowly relaxing as though she weren't repulsed by my touch. Perhaps she wasn't, but she didn't seem very receptive either.

My expression darkened, temptation creeping into my thoughts, directing my hands toward her sensitive parts. However, I wouldn't give in, so I shut my eyes momentarily, seizing control of my thoughts, my mind, and my actions.

“Are you aware that you make it impossible to resist you?” I asked, my breath against the nape of her neck, my voice low and husky.

She was quiet, her body shivering as my palms caressed her arms.

I got a grip on myself and straightened, pulling away while clearing my throat.

She turned around to face me, her expression soft with a faint flush on her cheeks.

I held her gaze for the next few seconds, struggling not to grab her by the waist and claim those cherry lips of hers.

My eyes dropped to the floor, and my jaw tightened as I withdrew. I headed out of the room before I lost control. “Hurry up, we're late already,” I said without looking back at her.

As I shut the door behind me, my mind was clouded with illicit thoughts of her. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, getting too close.

I might be in control of my emotions, but how long until I broke and fell for this temptation?

Chapter 11 – Tessa

The opulent space was filled with impeccably dressed societal elites, their soft hum of conversations mingling with the subtle clinking of glasses. The sweet scent of champagne and canapés wafted through the air and the chandelier lights cast warm glows over the guests.

I stood beside my husband, a plastic smile perched on my face as he conversed with a small group of business partners. The stares on me—glaring and hidden—were a bit too much to bear. Deep down, I wished that the ground would just open and swallow me.

I was Erik Tarasov's wife, not the Queen of England. So, why the unnecessary attention?

Everywhere I turned, I'd meet a pair of eyes glued to my face, and as time went by, I began to feel uneasy. Honestly, I was in desperate need of an escape from this dull environment or some fresh air at least.

My chest rose and fell slowly, and my breathing grew heavier with each passing minute. I felt suffocated by the presence of these people, and their insincere smiles turned my stomach. Yes, I wore one as well, but it was merely a facade to conceal my distaste for many of the guests.

They were all hypocrites—every single one of them. Members of rival political parties greeted each other with warm handshakes and bright smiles. Meanwhile, we all knew how much they despised one another.

Almost everyone in this gathering had an ax to grind with at least one other person. But we all sipped champagne, talking and laughing like good friends.

Bloody hypocrites!

Erik's soft, deep chuckle snapped me back to reality. His strong arms wrapped around mine, his fingers grazing my skin.His eyes were fixed on his associates, sipping from his glass as he listened to them.

I shot a quick glance at him just in time to catch a rare grin on his face. His lips twitched at the corners, his sharp green eyes crinkling at the corners. His touch was smooth against my skin, a faint sparkle igniting within me.

In my head, his voice echoed, the memory of his words sending shivers down my spine.“Are you aware that you make it impossible to resist you?”

I recalled the effect of his breath brushing against my neck, the sensation that jolted through my body when his palms caressed my arms. His touch, soft and tender, made my fingertips tingle and my heart skip a beat.

His confession about how hard it was to stay away from me had caused my core to tremble. At that moment, I let myself delve into the thoughts of having him inside me, and to my shock, it seemed like something I'd enjoy.

I wanted to despise him—I claimed that I did. But his touch always made me realize just how wrong I was. If I loathed him as much as I thought, then his touch should repulse me, and I shouldn't be able to entertain any funny ideas about being intimate with him. However, the exact opposite was the case.

His little actions and small gestures were the tools he used to slowly break down the walls I had built around my heart. He was creeping in, slithering his way through my system like a poison—deadly with a touch of sweetness.

“Are you alright?” Erik's voice pierced through my thoughts.

I blinked, getting a hold of myself, my eyes meeting his gaze in a fleeting moment. It was now that I realized his associates had all dematerialized, spread out across the hall. “Yeah, uh…I'm okay,” I said, my voice soft and smooth, trying to sound convincing.

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