Page 40 of Forced Plus-Size Bride of the Bratva

My hands tremble.

I hate this. I hate that he’s gotten into my head so quickly, so easily. But part of me knows that’s the danger of restraint—it leaves more room for imagination. And he knows exactly what he’s doing.

I sit on the edge of the bed, the silence stretching taut around me. The fire still burns low in the hearth, casting shadows across the dark wood and iron that frame the room. The heat of his touch hasn’t faded. My skin still tingles where he held me, where his breath had brushed my neck, where his thumb had dragged over my lower lip like a promise.

Andrei crosses the room in slow, even steps. He doesn’t speak. He stops in front of me.

I lift my gaze, heart hammering as our eyes meet. He says nothing. Just watches me like he’s still memorizing something I don’t know I’m showing.

Then he bends.

His hand finds my jaw again, thumb stroking beneath my chin, lifting it gently. His other hand rests on my thigh, warm and firm through the silk. I inhale sharply.

His mouth finds mine.

It’s not soft. It’s not brutal either. It’s deliberate—measured. Like he’s savoring it. Testing the way I respond. His lips part mine with quiet certainty, and my body betrays me. My mouth opens. My pulse stutters. I lean into him before I realize I’ve moved.

The kiss deepens, his palm sliding along my cheek, into my hair, and the faintest groan rumbles in his chest—low and satisfied. The sound slides through me like molten glass.

My legs shift. My breath catches. Heat spirals low and sharp inside me, and I hate how easily it comes. How easy it is to want in the face of everything I should fear.

He pulls back slowly, his lips lingering against mine for a second longer, and when our eyes meet again, something in his has changed. It’s darker now. Possessive. But not wild.

Controlled.

Andrei studies me for another moment, then straightens. “Get some sleep,” he says, voice low, smooth.

I blink. “You’re leaving?”

“For a little while.” He turns, reaching for his jacket draped over the arm of a nearby chair. “Dima and I have things to discuss.”

Something tightens in my chest. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought he’d stay. That he’d at least sit beside me longer. That he’d press his hand over the racing beat in my chest and feel what he’s done to me.

“You’re just going to leave me here,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

He glances over his shoulder, that smirk playing again at the corners of his mouth. “Yes.”

My jaw clenches. “That’s it?”

“No,” he says, moving toward the door. “I’ll be back tonight.” He opens it, then pauses. Looks at me again. “When I return,” he adds, his voice like silk over something sharp, “we’ll share the bed.”

I sit straighter, pulse jolting. “What? You said—”

“No sex,” he says. “Not tonight.”

My breath stutters.

“I won’t sleep alone anymore,” he continues. “Neither will you, but sleep is all I demand.”

He steps out, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Just like that, I’m left in the firelight again—flushed, breathless, aching, and alone.

Chapter Twelve - Andrei

The engine purrs beneath my hands like a living thing, sleek and obedient. City lights smear across the windshield in gold and blue, a rhythm of blurred shapes and fading halos as the car glides down the highway, black as a bullet. The streetlights pass overhead in a steady pattern, each one flickering across the interior like a slow metronome counting down to something inevitable.

My fingers tap against the leather steering wheel, slow and idle. There’s nothing careless in the motion. Nothing distracted. I know this road. I know every turn it takes, every streetlight, every shadow.

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