Page 74 of Knocked-up Bratva Bride
Without thinking, I stepped forward, drawn like a man chasing warmth in the dead of winter. My arms slipped around her waist, instinctively, like they’d always belonged there. My hands found her belly, soft and round beneath the fabric, and I groaned like an insatiable man in heat.
Elena tensed beneath my touch, just for a heartbeat, before she let out a slow breath, almost shaky, and leaned back into me.
“Good morning. You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?”
Her spine met my chest, her ass pressed against my cock, her shoulder brushing against mine, and in this moment, it felt like the world stopped falling apart.
I closed my eyes. Breathed her in.
“Morning, sweetheart. Three hours of sleep after we spent all night fucking in the car, in the shower, and on the bed, is enough time, isn’t it?
She still smelled like jasmine and slow, gentle sex from last night.
But the jasmine reminded me of the scent that used to trail behind Katya when she came in laughing from the garden, her face smudged with dirt and her hands full of lavender.
“You were thinking about her again, weren’t you?” Her hands paused over the bacon strips in another pan before theymoved again. “It’s fine. I think about her, too. A lot, actually. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop hoping that she’ll come back.”
“That will be good, if she does. Katya’s a big girl. No, scratch that; my daughter is a grown woman. She’s fine. She’s paving her own path in life, and I’m fine with it. I’m…happy with it. But I’m more focused on building what we have.”
My fingers splayed across her stomach, and I felt the faintest kick. Just a flutter, but it stopped my breath.
“Fuck.”
The ache in my chest tightened. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this closeness and warmth with Elena and our baby.
“I can feel our baby,” I whispered. “He’s strong.”
Elena nodded silently, her hand covering mine. Her fingers were smaller, trembling just slightly, but warm.
“Sometimes, I’m not confident that I know how to do this,” I admitted. The words scraped out of me. “Especially not after Katya.”
“Me, neither, but we’re learning and doing better each day.” She pushed the plate aside gently, staring blankly at her coffee mug. “We’ll be great parents, Damien. Our mistake won’t define us.”
I turned her gently, my hands brushing against her sides as I guided her to face me. Her skin was warm beneath my fingertips, like the touch alone was enough to burn through ice.
Her eyes met mine.
God.
Those eyes—green, wide, and full of everything. I cupped her jaw, grazing the edge of her cheekbone with my thumb.
Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching, and I felt a gravity-like pull toward her.
“What have you done to me?” I muttered, barely recognizing my own voice. It came out low, rough, soaked in raw desire and hunger.
And something else that was a mix of admiration and respect.
She was the one who slipped past the armor. She was the mistake I kept making, the comfort I couldn’t seem to kill. The softness I wasn’t supposed to crave.
Her gaze flicked to my mouth, just once. And that was all it took.
The space between us vanished like it was never there. Roughly, I crushed my mouth to hers, and she met me halfway, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer, deeper, like she wanted to drown in me the same way I was drowning in her.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t clean. Her body pressed to mine, soft curves against hard muscle, and my hands—fuck—my hands didn’t know where to stop. Her back, her hips, the swell of her belly.
Nothing existed outside of her. It was just her. Only the fire she lit in the ruins of my cold, damned heart.
And when we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless. Our foreheads touched, sweat-damp and trembling, our hearts beating too loudly between us.
