Page 64 of Bratva's Vow
“Tell me you still want me,” I begged, my voice cracking now too. My lips ghosted over his, pleading. “Even if you hate me. Tell me you still want me. Still need me.”
Wren’s eyes fluttered open, stormy and wet. “I shouldn’t,” he whispered.
“But you do,” I pushed, forehead pressed to his, the words shaking with how much I needed them. “Say it.”
His face crumpled—equal parts pain and surrender.
“I do,” he admitted brokenly. “Fuck you, Maxim. I do.”
I didn’t wait. I captured his mouth again, swallowing every angry, aching breath as our bodies pressed tighter. The steam, the heat, the anguish—they all tangled together until it was impossible to tell where I ended and he began.
I couldn’t stop kissing him.
Every time our mouths broke apart, I chased his lips again, desperate and starved for him in a way that bordered on madness. The feel of Wren’s body slick and warm under my hands, trembling but not pulling away anymore, undid something deep inside me.
What if I stopped kissing him and he remembered how much he hated me?
I kissed down his jaw, tasting salt and water and heartbreak. His throat worked under my mouth as I sucked gently,and he shuddered when I grazed my teeth over the tender spot beneath his ear.
“Maxim…” he said, soft and unsure.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured against his skin. My hands roamed slowly, hesitantly, down his sides. “I’m here. I’m not letting you go.”
The way he sagged against me, his forehead pressing to my shoulder, nearly undid me. His fingers clung to my biceps, nails biting in, like he was still half at war with himself.
But he didn’t say no.
And when I kissed him again, slow and deep this time, he kissed me back like he needed it as much as I did.
Somehow, we stumbled and twisted until his back hit the wall of the shower. I kissed down his neck, then lower, sinking to my knees.
His thighs trembled beneath my touch.
“Max—”
“Shh.” I kissed the sharp bone of his hip, my hands anchoring him steady. “Let me remind you of this, Wren. Of how real this is between us. Nothing can change this.”
I took the head of his erection between my lips, sucking gently.
His hands shot up to my hair, his hips pushing forward reflexively. His body was so finely tuned to mine, each touch causing an immediate reaction. It had always been this way, from our very first touch.
Closing my eyes in relief, I let out a breath through my nostrils. For a moment, I’d been worried he would be repulsed if I touched him. But this—maybe I still had a chance.
He tasted of steam and soap, but beneath that was purely Wren. His scent filled my senses, dizzying me as I took him deeper. He cried out softly, more a whimper of surrender thanany protest. He tightened his fingers in my hair and rolled his hips with tiny thrusts.
Does he think I get on my knees for just anyone?
Only for him.
“Max,” he whimpered louder, his hands falling away from my hair so he could anchor himself against the wall.
Every swallow drew a gasp from him. Every upward slide along his length made his back arch and his knees quake. He was coming undone beneath my touch, beneath my lips. And I never wanted to stop.
I stood again, my throat raw, breathing hard as I cupped his face. His pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted as he stared up at me like I was the only thing holding him together.
“Tell me to stop,” I whispered, pressing our foreheads together. “Tell me right now if you don’t want this.”
He tugged me closer instead of pushing me away. “I want to hate you,” he whispered hoarsely. But there were tears in his eyes again, and his lips quivered. “I want to hate you so much.”
