Page 30 of Plus-Size Curves for the Bratva

“I’ve been waiting,” she says, softly. “Not to mention worried sick.”

Her small hands reach out, gentle yet insistent as they ghost over my injuries. "You're hurt," she states, her voice a mix of anger and concern.

"I'm fine," I protest weakly, even as I lean into her touch. "You shouldn't worry about me."

Natalia's eyes flash. "Shouldn't I? Who else will, if not me?" she asks simply, her breaths coming out in quick, rapid, panicked bursts.

"I’ll manage, Nat," I try to say I can handle this, but she's already guiding me upstairs to my bed, her touch impossibly tender despite her obvious frustration.

"Sit," she commands once we reach upstairs, and I find myself obeying without thought. "You're going to let me help you, Denis. No arguments."

I want to resist, to maintain some semblance of control, but the warmth of her presence is too alluring. As she bustles about, gathering supplies, I realize that I already feel better.

I sink into the plush pillows on the bed, my body betraying me as it yields to Natalia's care. Her touch is a soothing balm against my fevered skin, and I find myself relaxing despite my best efforts to try to manage this myself. The truth is, her caring for me makes it all much better.

"You're burning up," Natalia mutters, her brow furrowed as she presses a cool cloth to my forehead. "What were you thinking, coming home in this state?"

I manage a weak chuckle. "I was thinking of you, actually. I hurried right back."

Her eyes soften for a moment before narrowing again. "Don't try to charm your way out of this, Denis. You're in trouble."

"Am I now?" I ask, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the pain coursing through my body.

Natalia's hands are gentle as she tends to a particularly nasty gash on my arm. "You bet you are. What if something had happened to you out there? What if—" Her voice catches, and I feel a pang in my chest that has nothing to do with my injuries.

"Hey," I say softly, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "I'm here now. I'm okay."

She huffs, but I can see the worry on her face. "You're not okay, you big idiot. But you will be, because I'm going to make sure of it."

Natalia's fingers dance across my skin, carefully applying antiseptic to each cut and scrape. I wince at the sting, but her touch is so tender that I crave it more. Her brow furrows in concentration, her lips pursed in a way that's both adorable and oddly alluring.

"You're staring," she murmurs, not looking up from her task.

I clear my throat, caught off guard. "Am I?"

She glances at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You are. See something you like, Mr. Zolotov?"

It’s the same thing I asked her while we waited for the car after the charity event. Her teasing tone sends me back to that night and all that happened when we got home. "Just admiring your handiwork," I deflect, but even I can hear the softness in my voice.

"Mhmm," she hums, clearly unconvinced. "Well,your handiworkis going to leave some nasty bruises."

I watch as she gently wraps a bandage around my forearm, her fingers brushing against my skin. The intimacy of the moment isn't lost on me, and I find myself struggling to maintain my usual composure.

"I'm not used to this," I admit quietly.

Natalia pauses, looking up at me. "Used to what?"

I gesture vaguely between us. "This. Being… cared for."

Her expression softens, and she places a hand on my cheek. The gentleness of her touch nearly undoes me. "Well, get used to it, because I'm not going anywhere."

In that moment, I realize how truly vulnerable I've allowed myself to become with her. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once, and I find myself leaning into her touch.

A rare sense of peace washes over me as Natalia finishes up. She hands me a painkiller and I swallow it down with some water. I watch her gather the first aid supplies and put them away, before heading for the door out. The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them.

"Stay with me?" My voice comes out softer than I intended, almost hesitant. I hold my breath, suddenly afraid she might refuse.

Natalia pauses and turns, her eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I see surprise flicker across her face, quickly replaced by something warmer. She walks back to me, her hand coming to rest on my arm.

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