Page 47 of Innocently Captured By the Bratva

But before I can respond, Quinn pushes away from me abruptly, tottering away from the bed on unsteady legs. “God, I need to get out of these clothes,” she mutters, reaching behind her back for the zip of her dress. “It’s so tight.”

“Wait, Quinn, No—” I protest, but she’s already gotten it unzipped. I hold back a groan as she begins to shimmy out of her dress, revealing the curve of her back and the lacy edge of her bra. It’s almost as if she’s moving in slow motion, her movements both deliberate and hazy with alcohol-induced confidence.

My eyes widen as she casually steps out of the puddle of fabric at her feet, standing before me in nothing but her underwear and fucking sexy heels. The air between us crackles with an electric tension I can almost taste, my gaze tracing the delicate lines of her body.

I should look away. I should grab a blanket and cover her up, maintain some semblance of propriety. But my traitorous eyes refuse to obey, fixated on the sight before me.

Quinn,” I rasp, my voice thick with desire and a hint of warning. “This isn't... You shouldn't...”

“These shoes,” she gasps. “God, they’re killing me. The playboy in me almost dies and reaches heaven when she bends over, revealing her creamy thighs, the curves of her ass spilling out of her panties.

I watch her struggle for a moment, feeling both an overwhelming concern and a frozen awe at the pure beauty before me. However, the man in me, the one who is beginning tounderstand just how much Quinn Desmond means to him, can only see her discomfort and the risk of injury.

With a sigh, I step forward and crouch down in front of her. “Here, let me.”

Quinn stills, her eyes widening as I gently bat her hands away and take over the task of removing her heels. My fingers graze the delicate bones of her ankles, and I feel her shiver at the contact.

“You don't have to...” she starts, but I silence her with a look.

“I want to,” I say simply. And it's true. In this moment, there's nothing I want more than to take care of her, to smooth away the weariness etched onto her lovely face.

She swallows hard, her gaze locked on mine as I slide the shoes from her feet and set them aside. The air between us is charged, heavy with unspoken emotion and simmering desire.

I know I should stand up and put some distance between us, but I can't tear my eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of Quinn Desmond, soft and vulnerable and oh-so-tempting, standing half-naked above me.

God help me; I'm in trouble. As I rise, I can feel the heat radiating off her body, the sweet scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her breath on my chest.

“To bed, now,” I growl and take her hand, turning my back to her to guide her in. She gets in and I put on the covers and switch off the lights from the central controls on her bedside, leaving just a small lamp on.

I’m about to turn away when I feel her grab my hand. I turn, surprised.

“Stay with me?” she whispers, her voice barely a whisper. “Just... just for tonight. I don't... I don't want to be alone.”

I freeze at her request, my heart racing as I meet her vulnerable gaze in the dim light. My mind is filled with conflicting emotions—desire warring with restraint, tenderness clashing against common sense. Quinn's green eyes search mine, a silent plea lingering between us.

Without a word, I carefully slide into the bed beside her, keeping my distance. She’s drunk, and I want to play no part in taking advantage of her. No matter how bad I want to take off those remaining items of clothing, to feel her skin against mine, her warmth on my cock.

She shivers and inches back against me. “I’m so cold…” she stammers. She curls into me, seeking solace in the shelter of my arms, and the warmth of her body seeps into mine. Her strawberry-blonde hair tickles my chin as she settles her back against my chest, and her soft breaths create a soothing rhythm in the darkened room.

I wrap my arms around her delicate frame, careful to keep one below her neck and the other around her waist. She’s half-naked, and I want to be cautious not to overstep any boundaries, even though it’s driving me crazy not to have more. The scent of her perfume mingles with the faint aroma of alcohol.

Her body molds perfectly to mine, her soft curves fitting seamlessly against my hardness. The dichotomy is not lost on me.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For tonight. For everything.”

“There’s nothing you have to thank me for,” I whisper into her ear.

“Oh, but there is,” she says, half in slumber. “You showed me there’s another way to live.”

“I did?” I ask, curious.

“You once told me you don’t believe in true love, Mark. But tonight, I realized you don’t believe in it because you’ve never had to consider it. Your family—that’s true love. You’d do anything for each other. You’re your own little army, you know that? I’ve always been alone. No siblings. Busy parents. I never felt that anything was missing when I was a child, especially when my grandparents and Uncle were around, but tonight, I felt lonelier than I’ve ever felt. I’m jealous… Mark.”

She’s blabbering. Saying the very first thing that comes to her mind, yet it’s the most devastating monologue I’ve heard her deliver. I listen, my grip around her tightening imperceptibly as she talks. Quinn's honesty hits me in a way I never expected.

Her vulnerability tugs at something deep inside me, showing me the fragility of her desires. They’re simple, really. A family and love. That’s all she asks for.

“Family comes in many shapes, Quinn,” I whisper into her hair. “You’re so young, and there’s a lifetime to build one.”

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