Page 53 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
And with every shaky breath she took, every inch she melted into me, something in my chest cracked wide open.
I murmured things I didn’t even think about—just sounds and reassurances, low and steady in her ear. Her fingers clenched my shirt. Her forehead pressed against my throat. One palm splayed wide over her spine.
My other hand moved to her back, rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. I could feel her warmth through the thin fabric of her shirt.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, and without thinking, I pulled her closer.
She didn’t resist. Instead, she melted against me, her head finding the crook of my neck. Her hair smelled like vanilla, and I breathed it in, grateful she was alive, grateful she was here.
I shifted until she was practically on me, my arms around her, one hand still making those slow circles on her back.
Her breath was evening out, and she was still shaking when I realized I’d pulled her into my lap. Not out of desire but because it felt right. Because I needed hercloser.
But then the shaking slowed.
Her hand slid over my chest.
And the air changed.
Her breath ghosted against my skin. Her fingers curled in my collar. My hand—still at the small of her back—shifted just slightly, splaying lower, holding her hips in place as her thighs settled tighter around mine.
I looked down.
She looked up.
Neither of us moved.
“Better?” I asked, my lips close to hers.
She nodded, her eyes burning through mine. “A little.”
The tension coiled like a fuse burning too close to a fire. Her lips were parted, her breath shallow, and her cheeks, still damp, flushed now for entirely different reasons.
I should have stopped there. Should have put her back on the couch beside me. Should have given her space to process everything she’d learned.
But I couldn’t let go. Not when I knew how close I had come to losing her tonight. Not when she felt so right against me.
My body reacted before I even had time to think—hard and ready and aching to make this better, even if it made everything worse.
I cupped her cheek. Her skin was warm. She leaned into the touch like it anchored her.
“I don’t know how to comfort people,” I said roughly. “But I swear to God, I’ll learn if it means I get to make you feel better.”
She made a soft sound in the back of her throat. It wasn’t quite a moan—but close.
Her head lifted slightly, and I felt her eyelashes brush against my jaw.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I looked down at her, and our faces were so close I could count each of her eyelashes. Could trace the curve of her lips with my gaze.
“Autumn...” My voice was rough, strained.
Her eyes darted to my mouth, then back up. For a moment, I thought I was going crazy, that she couldn’t truly have wanted me after what she had learned.
But then her lips parted slightly, she gently brushed up against mine, and I was lost.
I kissed her back.
