Page 41 of The Bratva's Hunted Bride
I laugh, my eyes drifting back to Timofey. One of his nephews is tugging at his arm, laughing and playing. He glances at me, and the smile that spreads over his face is breathtaking. It stops my heart for a second and I stare, my lips parted, my skin tingling with an intense desire to feel his touch.
Timofey says something to his nephew, and the little boy runs off to play with his cousins. Timofey walks toward me and my heart somersaults.
He sits down on the chair next to me, his thigh against mine, the heat from his body spilling into me.
“Are you ok here?” he asks, his eyes shining, his voice lighthearted and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen.
“Of course she is,” Valery answers on my behalf.
I nod, smiling. “I am. Everyone is so friendly,” I mutter, my cheeks flushing as his gorgeous grey eyes fill with intensity, locking with mine. He reaches up and gently brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear, moving slowly, deliberately letting his fingers linger on my cheek.
It sends a buzz of electric current humming through me.
I bite my lip, desperate to pull myself back into reality.
Timofey leans back in the seat, casually draping his arm over the back of it, around me.
“What’s on the menu tonight?” Timofey asks, his hand sliding over my shoulder, his fingers tracing small circles close to the curve of my neck as he plays with the thin strap of my dress.
No one else seems to notice the heat building in my cheeks as his touch does wild things to my thoughts.
“Pizza. The kids got the vote. We ordered earlier, and it should arrive soon.” Valery replies.
“Sounds fantastic. We should let them choose more often,” he chuckles, the sound of his laughter vibrating against me and making my heart beat faster.
Nikita shakes her head. “If it were up to the kids, it would be a constant alternating menu of mac and cheese and pizza. I don’t know how they do it, but they’d be happy to eat that and nothing else,ever.” Nikita lifts her empty glass, eyeing it, then stands up. She shoots her sister a glance.
On cue, Valery and Nikita both need a refill on their drinks, and they leave, and suddenly I’m alone with Timofey.
My mind is screaming at me to be wary, to be careful, to push my walls up against him. But my heart is leaning into him, pressing against his side, wanting the warmth of his arm around me. I hate the fact that he steals away my control. He’s the flame and I’m the moth, flying straight toward the danger. Blinded by his light.
Timofey leans his head closer to me and whispers against my ear. “You look beautiful, Talia. And my family has said nothing but wonderful things about you.”
“They’ve all been very welcoming,” I nod, repeating over and over again in my thoughts that I shouldn’t read into his gentle, intimate touches or the warmth of his breathe against my neck. Not after what happened at the party. Not after how he used me.
As if sensing my desperation, my battle for control against my heart, Valery calls out across the garden. “The pizza is here, everyone. Come and sit down.” I breathe a sigh of relief as Timofey stands, moving away from me.
But in the same moment, I’m instantly missing him.
He leads me through to the dining room with his hand against my lower back. Every touch is electric. Does he feel it too, or is my mind playing tricks on me?
The way he keeps looking at me…it’s hard not to read into it, but I can’t. I can’t think anything of it.
At the dinner table, a warm bubble of laughter and conversation fills the air. Timofey takes a plate for me and puts three slices of pizza on it, after checking which toppings I like best.
Then he sits down and while he chats to his brother across the way, his hand brushes over my thigh beneath the table. His fingers against my bare skin as my skirt moves aside.
My head spins, my body betraying me as I bite into the pizza and try to ignore anything else but the flavors in my mouth.
But it’s impossible.
My thoughts are orbiting around him. My body is constantly drawn to him like a magnet.
And while I try to reason with myself, it’s becoming more and more obvious that he is just as pulled toward me.
As the evening progresses, his touch becomes more frequent, and his eyes never seem to leave me.
When dinner is over, everyone relaxes around the table. I’m suffocated with the intensity of the need I feel for him, so I stand up, excusing myself as though I need to use the ladies’ room.
