Page 22 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
He dropped his hand from my cheek and leaned back in his chair, ignoring his unfinished sandwich. My stomach was in knots, but I also leaned back. He watched me as I continued to eat as if I wasn’t burning up in so many different ways. I could just as easily lunge across the table and stab him with a fork as I could jump on him to kiss him.
Really, either one would have been fine.
I finally put my sandwich down and looked up. When our eyes met, he looked disconcerted for a split second. Anyone who didn’t know him like I did might have missed it. I must have looked positively feral, because right now I was the victorious one. I had him. After all this time, I had him.
I was ready to have some fun while I broke him down into little pieces. Why shouldn’t I? I deserved it after the misery he put me through. I was back to the way I was, never really myself when we were together. I always felt freer, more alive, and it was no different now.
“I still want you,” I said, barely above a whisper. Not a lie.
I waited, heart thumping out of my chest, throat dry, my body straining toward him as I held myself still. Waiting to see how he’d respond.
He shoved his chair back and reached for mine, dragging it closer until our legs touched. He spread his, pulling me between them, his hand tangling in my hair. Tugging my head back, he claimed my mouth with his.
Finally. Finally, I was feeling his lips crash against mine. He took his time, slowly and sinuously kissing me as his free hand moved to my waist. Palm splayed, he moved it up my side as his tongue played at the edges of my mouth.
I opened it with a sigh, reaching for him as his thumb brushed the bottom of my breast. I felt heavy, sleepy, but wide awake, urgent but languid, all at the same time. Like he turned me to liquid, and I melted against his chest.
His hand was still in my hair, and he released his rough grip to slide it down to the back of my neck. The heat of it, as he pushed me deeper into our kiss, had me gasping, clutching at him. He was in total control, and all I could do was respond and hang on. And enjoy every second of it all.
Now, the hand at my side was moving lower, and I squirmed in my chair, wanting to crawl into his lap and press my aching core against him. I wore the dress I chose for the wedding ceremony, a simple aqua wrap dress that had been left behind by Mila on a visit during happier times. He worked his hand down my thighs, pressed tightly together between his open legs, and slid the front part of the fabric aside.
I shivered as he teased his fingertips down the length of my thigh and back up again, moving even more fabric out ofthe way to expose the triangle of my panties. His other hand tightened around my neck, his tongue commanding my mouth.
Gripping his shirt, I tried to pull myself closer, making small, needy sounds as he kissed me so deeply I was almost consumed. I was just about to wriggle one of my legs free and hoist it over his to drag myself into his lap, but as quickly as he’d pulled me close, he now shoved away.
I was stunned, my body almost sagging now that I didn’t have him to cling to. I sat alone, my lips swollen and tingling, the skirt of my dress shoved open to expose my entire lower half. My head whipped up after tugging the fabric back over my pale legs, to see he was in complete control of himself.
Okay, maybe not complete control. My eyes dropped low to see the throbbing bulge against the front of his pants. But his hands were steady, unlike mine, as he stood and looked down at me with a smug smile that made me forget the bliss he’d just given me.
“Nat?” he said, not really a question. I was still so stunned I could hardly register the anger that was slowly welling to take the place of the lust he so expertly drove me to.
“What?” I asked, thinking this had to be part of the game. He wanted me, it was plain as day. Why did he stop?
The smile widened as he turned away. “You’re still not thinking ahead.”
