Page 30 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

Tessa was different.

She wasn't like the average spoiled rich girl who spent Daddy's money on shopping and boat cruises. No, Tessa actually wanted to do something for herself—to own a business in her name. If that wasn't intriguing, I didn't know what was.

As she smiled at me, her expression softening by the second, I felt something unlock within me—a softness that made me wonder whether I was starting to develop a liking for her.

As she reclined in her chair, my eyes dropped to her chest, where the spaghetti strap of her pajama top seemed to defy gravity. One slipped off her shoulder, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. The soft, creamy skin of her breasts swelled above the delicate lace trim, drawing my eyes like a magnet.

I felt a flutter in my chest, and a sexual flame within me ignited. She was turning me on, and the more I gazed at her cleavage, the harder my cock grew in my pants.

Tessa noticed the effect on me, and with a delicate move, she adjusted the loose strap, her cheeks flushing withmild embarrassment. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and her countenance grew colder.

At this point, I wasn't sure how long I'd keep resisting the urge to grab her, kiss her, and eventually make love to her.

I felt like I was losing my mind.

Fuck!

Chapter 13 – Tessa

Apparently, I was wrong about him, and it would appear that Ravyn just might be right after all. Maybe the Tarasov brothers weren't all that bad, as opposed to popular opinion.

I hadn't wrapped my head around it yet, the idea that I could be the business owner that I'd always wanted and still be Erik's wife. The possibility of this seemed a little too good to be true.

Was he messing with me? He did say that he wasn't kidding around, and the sincerity in his tone was palpable. In his eyes was a glint of amusement at my assumption, but beneath that was also a glimmer of honesty and solemnity. He was telling the truth.

It had been a few days since our first decent conversation in the kitchen that night. However, I was still in awe of the whole revelation. I hadn't been able to contain my happiness and my excitement. It was so obvious that even the mansion staff had noticed it and were puzzled by my sudden change in attitude.

When they believed I wasn’t watching, they would exchange furtive glances at me, their lips curving into broad smiles.

Ever since Erik's assurance that I was allowed to go ahead with my plans to own a fashion business, I'd slipped out of my shell. It was an unconscious act, but it happened. I finally found a reason to be myself and less moody all the time.

I'd spend hours every day doing more research on the business, studying and understanding the market. My dream—my plan—was more feasible now, considering there was nothing holding me back.

When I wasn't researching or analyzing, I was sketching out new designs—a talent most people didn't know I had. Mydetermination to make it big in the industry had multiplied since my last conversation with my husband.

Speaking of, I hadn't had another decent talk with him yet. He'd been super busy these past few days. Most times, he'd return home way after midnight, and I'd be fast asleep by then. The next morning, he'd be gone before I'd wake up.

He was like a ghost nowadays, and although a part of me was grateful for the amount of time on my hands—to delve into my research—the other part of me seemed to miss his presence.

Strange.

The tension between us whenever he was around me was always suffocating. His presence alone was intimidating, accompanied by a kind of fear that left a pit in my stomach every single time. So, why would I miss having him around?

What was it about him that always drew me in like a moth to a flame? Was it about this man that ignited a sexual fire within me?

Erik believed I was tempting him and wasn't sure how long he'd resist me for. What he didn't know, however, was that the feeling was mutual.

I tried to suppress it, but the harder I tried, the more drawn I was to him. As the days went by, my craving and longing for him intensified. The only thing that kept me distracted from the illicit thoughts in my head was the research that stole my time and attention.

But the same question lingered on the fringes of my mind every night I went to bed: How long would I keep this up?

It was no secret to me now that every fiber of my being wanted this man. The mere thought of having him deep inside me always turned me on, leaving me almost sexually frustrated.

The turmoil within me was real. I was attracted to Erik Tarasov to the point where I’d had wet dreams these past fewnights. But was I ready? I hadn't been with a man before. Did I want him to be my first?

That was a silly question!

The fact that we were married meant that he had the right to be my first. In fact, I should consider myself lucky that the man was patient enough to tolerate the negligence of my wifely duties. My husband could decide at any time to take me—to claim what was his, with or without my consent. He could do that, and there would be absolutely nothing that anyone would do about it.

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