Page 78 of Used Bratva Bride

“What’s wrong?” His voice is smooth, but I know better than to think he’s asking out of concern. He’s analyzing, searching for any crack in my facade.

I shake my head quickly. “Nothing. Just… tired.”

His eyes flicker slightly, and then—just for a second—they dart toward the counter behind me.

My chest tightens. He’s looking right at the drawer. Does he know?

Panic surges through me, white-hot and suffocating. I need to distract him. Now. Before I can second-guess myself, I step forward and press my lips against his.

Mikhail stiffens against me, caught off guard. For a brief, breathless moment, he doesn’t move. Then his hands grip my waist, steadying me as he pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. His gaze is full of suspicion, as if he’s trying to read my mind.

“What was that?” His voice is low, questioning.

I force myself to hold his stare, my fingers tightening against the fabric of his shirt. “I… have to admit something.”

His brow lifts slightly. “Go on.”

I take a shaky breath, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Ever since that night… when you took my virginity….” My voice drops lower, deliberately laced with something breathy, something vulnerable. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Mikhail’s grip on my waist tightens. His expression shifts—curiosity darkening into something deeper, something more dangerous.

For the first time since stepping into this house, I feel like I have the upper hand. I pray it’s enough to keep him from looking too closely.

Before he can ask another question, I kiss him again—hard and fast, my hands gripping the front of his shirt. My tongue slips past his lips, silencing him completely.

At first, he doesn’t move, as if caught off guard, but then his grip on my waist tightens further, fingers digging into my hips with a possessive force. A low, approving sound rumbles from his throat, and he presses forward, backing me up until my spine meets the cool surface of the kitchen wall.

He exhales against my lips, his breath warm, teasing. “You’re desperate.”

I shudder at the way he says it, his accent thickening just slightly. “Shut up,” I murmur, just as breathless as I am flustered.

Mikhail chuckles, deep and knowing. “You kiss me like you want something.” His lips trail along my jaw, the slight graze of his teeth making my skin prickle. “Tell me… are you distracting me… or yourself?”

I don’t answer, because I don’t know. I started this to keep him from questioning me, but now I feel like I’m the one unraveling. My pulse pounds as he drags his hands down my sides, gripping the curve of my waist.

His thumb brushes just beneath the hem of my blouse, teasing the bare skin of my stomach. He leans in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “You act like you hate me, but your body says otherwise.”

A shiver rolls through me. I hate that he’s right.

“I should punish you for being so reckless,” he murmurs, trailing his mouth down my throat, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin there. His voice is smooth, taunting. “Throwing yourself at me like this.”

I suck in a breath as he slides his knee between my thighs, pressing just enough to make me feel how utterly trapped I am beneath him. My body reacts before my mind can catch up, heat pooling low in my stomach.

He notices. Of course he notices.

Mikhail tilts his head, a slow smirk curling on his lips. “See? You do want something.” His hand slips beneath my blouse, fingertips tracing over my ribs. He kisses me again—harder this time, rough and possessive, stealing the breath from my lungs.

I whimper against his lips, gripping on to his shoulders as he deepens the kiss. His tongue strokes against mine in slow, deliberate movements, making my head spin.

He reaches for his belt, one hand allowing his cock free while the other pins me mercilessly against the wall. He’s already hard, the tip leaking creamy precum.

I gasp as he hikes up my skirt, and when he slides past my folds, oh, I’m in heaven. The feel of him is familiar now, thick and weighty, heady and comforting all at once.

His hand slides further up, teasing the underside of my breast as he ruts into me, his touch firm, knowing. “So responsive,” he mutters against my lips, clearly pleased. “Maybe I should take you right here. Let you scream my name where anyone could hear.”

My breath stutters. My heart pounds, and I swear I’m even wetter, somehow. I don’t even realize I’ve arched into him until his smirk deepens.

Mikhail’s grip tightens, his large hands bracing against the wall beside my head as his body presses flush against mine. His heat seeps through the thin fabric of my blouse, his scent—a mix of expensive cologne and something inherently him—clouding my senses.

---