Page 85 of Forced Bratva Bride

“Is that so?” I laughed softly, resting my hands on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. “Wait... you don't think this is where—”

“Where what?”

I nodded toward my belly. “Where we created this little one?”

His laughter was deep, genuine. “It's possible. We weren't exactly careful those first few times.”

“Or the times after that,” I added. “Maybe we should make sure, though. For scientific purposes.”

“Scientific, huh?” The rumble of his voice sent shivers down my spine. “I've always been a supporter of thorough research.”

His mouth found mine, tasting of the whiskey he'd been drinking downstairs. His kisses were still intoxicating, even after months of having him. I'd never tire of this—the way he held me like I was precious, how he seemed to know exactly when to be gentle and when I needed more.

“You're wearing too many clothes for proper science,” I murmured against his lips.

“A problem easily solved.” He stepped back, unbuttoning his shirt. Each inch of naked skin made my mouth go dry. There was a new tattoo on his arm—my name, in Russian. I traced the outline of it before he grabbed my wrist.

“Your turn,” his eyes inched over my body in a playful manner.

I stepped back and unzipped my dress, letting it pool at my feet. Pregnancy had changed my body, made my breasts fuller and my hips wider, but the hunger in Gio's eyes never dimmed.

“You get more beautiful every day,” he said, his voice rough. “Carrying my child suits you.”

“Does it?” I stood before him in just my underwear, suddenly shy despite everything we'd done together.

“You have no idea.” He stepped out of his pants, his arousal evident through his boxers. “Come here.”

I went to him willingly, letting him guide me to the narrow bed. It creaked under our combined weight, making me giggle.

“I hope this thing holds,” I said as he lowered me onto the mattress.

“If it breaks, I'll buy a new one.” His hands were warm as they skimmed over my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “But I kind of like the idea of breaking my childhood bed with you.”

His fingers traced the elastic of my underwear before slipping beneath, finding me already wet for him. I gasped as he circled my clit with pressure.

“Gio,” I breathed, arching into his touch.

“Patience, sweetheart,” He slid one finger inside me, then another, his thumb maintaining that maddening circular motion. “I want you to enjoy this.”

My body responded to him with embarrassing ease. The tension built quickly, my hips moving of their own accord against his hand. Just as I felt myself approaching the edge, he withdrew his fingers.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice dark with promise. “I want to be inside you when you come.”

I whimpered at the loss, but the complaint died in my throat as he removed his boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and ready. The sight of him made me dizzy with want.

He positioned himself between my thighs, careful not to put weight on my belly. “Tell me if anything hurts,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my collarbone.

“I'm pregnant, not broken,” I reminded him, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer.

The first push inside made us both groan. He filled me completely, stretching me in a way that bordered on too much but never crossed that line. He began to move, slow and deliberate at first, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You feel like heaven,” he said, his accent thicker with arousal. “Like you were made for me.”

“Maybe I was.” I ran my nails lightly down his back, knowing it drove him wild. “Maybe this was always meant to be.”

The idea seemed impossible, the sister of an Italian Mafia don and the brother of a Russian Bratva leader, but here we were.

His thrusts grew more insistent, and I felt the familiar pressure building again. One of his hands slipped between us, finding my clit.

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