Page 23 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

My lower lip trembled, and I bit down on it hard. I'd always prided myself on my independence, on being the tough, no-nonsense woman who could handle anything. But right now, with my world turned upside down, I felt like that scared littlegirl my aunt and uncle had taken advantage of all those years ago.

"Please," I whispered, my eyes locking on his. "Stay with me. Just for tonight."

I held my breath, waiting for his response, acutely aware of how pathetic I must look—a trembling mess in a rumpled pencil skirt and blouse, mascara probably smudged from fighting back tears. But in that moment, I didn't care about my image. I just knew I couldn't bear the thought of facing this new reality alone.

Abe's hand slipped from the doorknob, his shoulders relaxing as he turned to face me fully. The conflict in his eyes was palpable, but something shifted in his expression. From the anguish I saw in his eyes, it almost felt as though my painhurt him.

"Alright, Pippa," he said, his deep voice rumbling through the room as he strode toward me in a hurry. "I'll stay."

I felt my breath catch in my throat as he approached, his presence filling the room in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

"Thank you," I murmured, relief washing over me.

Abe settled beside me on the couch, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. The scent of his cologne—expensive, masculine—enveloped me, and I found myself leaning slightly toward him, drawn in by his comforting presence.

"You're safe here," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "I won't let anything happen to you."

I nodded, trying to ignore the way my heart raced at his words. This was Abe, after all—arrogant, infuriating Abe whodrove me crazy on a daily basis. But right now, he felt like an anchor in the storm of my emotions.

"I know," I said softly but my voice cracked all the same. "It's just… a lot to process. It’s been a long, scary, difficult day."

He shifted slightly, his arm brushing against mine. And then, ever so slowly, he placed it up on the couch behind me, like an invitation. I felt so damn exhausted and he felt so damn warm, that without thinking, I nestled closer, my head resting on his chest.

I took a deep breath, and my heart was beating ever so wildly, but for a completely different reason. This time, the wildness of its pace was accompanied by a sweet calm. I felt his hand fall to my shoulder, slowly pulling me in.

“Rest now,” he said into my hair. “It’s all going to be okay.”

I felt his lips on my hair as he spoke, and I became acutely aware of how close we were sitting. I could see the intricate designs of his tattoos peeking out from beneath his crisp shirt sleeve, the way his muscles moved beneath the fabric.

I lifted my gaze to meet his, and suddenly, the air between us felt electric. His eyes were mere inches away from mine, flickering across my face in rapid motions. His chest rose and fell harder against mine and I could feel this strange need to be closer to him. My breath caught in my throat as I realized the look he was giving me wasn't just concern—it was desire.

"Abe," I whispered, my voice barely audible. The fear and adrenaline that had been coursing through my veins began to transform into something else entirely, a heat that spread from my core outwards.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm on my cheek. "Tell me to stop, Pippa," he murmured, his voice husky. "Tell me you don't want this."

But I couldn't. I didn't want him to stop. Instead, I found myself drawn toward him, like a moth to a flame.

"I can't," I admitted, my heart pounding. "I don't want you to stop."

That was all it took. Abe's hand came up to cup my face, his thumb traced my lower lip, and I shivered at the contact.

"Are you sure?" he asked, giving me one last chance to back out.

“More than anything,” I whispered before I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. I felt him hold back a little, but when I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, he weakened. The soft, tentative kiss gave way to something fiercer. He repositioned himself straighter, his hands reaching for my hips. When he held me in his hands and pulled me atop his lap, I swear I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

I melted into his lap, my arms wound around his neck, and my legs straddled his waist. He then slid his hands to the back of my neck and pulled my face closer, his tongue parting through the gap between my lips, gently flicking over my teeth and everything in his motions told me he wanted more.

I parted my lips wider and curved my back to feel closer. And that was when I felt it—that bulge between his legs, digging against my pelvis.

Shit.He wanted me bad.

His hands roamed my body; Down the swell of my breasts, thumbs flicked across my nipples, fingers dug into therolls along my waist. Each touch was reverent. I gasped as his lips trailed down my neck, my fingers tangling in his dark hair.

"You're beautiful," he murmured against my skin, and for once, I believed it on another’s lips without an ounce of internal doubt. He then reached for the buttons of my shirt, slowly undoing the first one.

I watched as he looked down at the peek of skin before his eyes flicked up to mine attentively. I assured him of my intentions, reaching for his belt.

"Pippa," he groaned, closing his eyes for a brief second, struggling with something. "If we didn’t stop now, I wouldn’t stop at all."

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