Page 120 of Bratva's Intern

My heart leaped into my throat.

“Max!”

In a dark coat, shirt collar unbuttoned slightly, the faintest smirk playing at his lips, Maxim stood at the door. He stepped forward, grabbed the front of my hoodie, and kissed me.

Not soft.

Not tentative.

Hard.

Hungry.

I stumbled backward into the wall as he claimed my mouth, gripping my hips like he’d starved for this.

I moaned before I could stop myself, curling my fingers into his jacket. I let my hands wander their familiar paths on his back, the swell of muscle along his shoulders, the dip at the center of his spine. Letting myself be overpowered by the intoxicating scent of his cologne that filled the air.

Bracing one hand on the wall beside my head, he broke away from our kiss for mere seconds, looking deep into my eyes.

Breathless, I blinked, disoriented.

“So you… missed me?”

I nodded, twining my arms around his neck and smiling. “How… how did you get here so fast?”

He brushed my jaw with his thumb. “I was already downstairs. Sitting in my car, driving Sergei up the wall.”

My heart skipped. “You were here?”

“Yeah, debating whether I should barge in. You said you wanted space. I was trying to respect that.”

“And now?”

He smirked. “Well, you didn’t want to come to my house, so technically, you’re still sleeping in your own bed. I found a loophole and took it.”

I laughed, heart full to the brim, and pulled his head back down. We kissed like we’d gone a whole day without each other when I’d seen him a few hours ago.

He pressed me into the wall again, slower this time, moving his mouth with a kind of hunger that made my knees buckle. He slid his hand beneath the hem of my hoodie, warm against my bare waist, and a soft whimper escaped.

When we finally broke apart, my chest was heaving. His eyes were dark, fixed on my mouth like he was thinking about round two.

“I was…” I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “Putting popcorn in the microwave. Gonna watch a movie. If you want. Or we could…”

“What are you watching?”

“The Proposalfor the eightieth time.”

“Haven’t seen it.”

I stopped. Stared. “Wait. You’ve never watchedThe Proposal?”

“I don’t really watch movies, Wren. It’s been two years at least since I watched one.”

My jaw dropped. “That should be illegal. Are you okay? Do you need help?”

He gave me a faint smile. “I don’t have the time.”

“Well, you do tonight.” Unless… “What time do you have to be home?”

---