Page 18 of The Russian's Forced Bride
So I repeated my words to her one last time, staring at her confused face. “Your voice irritates me, so just shut up until help comes.”
“Or what, Rafael?” She stepped closer to me, her face bright red and her chin jutted out in anger.
“Ohh, I know.” She laughed. “You’re going to point a gun at me again? What’s going to happen if I don’t—”
I suddenly pressed her against the wall by the door as I put both her hands above her head, my chest heaving as I looked into her eyes, which widened in surprise.
Control, Rafael. Control yourself.
But I couldn’t—not with my system igniting. I needed some kind of release. But at the same time, I needed consent—consent that she was feeling the same ache I was feeling. The same irritating pull that overpowered all those feelings I was experiencing.
Our heavy breathing synchronized as my eyes searched hers. Then, for a moment, her eyes drifted to my lips, and she gulped hard, her green eyes darkening with lust.
“Let me—”
I crashed my lips onto hers just as I let go of her hands, and she grabbed the hem of my shirt. The kiss was intense as our tongues battled. She tasted like vanilla, and it drove me crazy. I wanted her. Every part of me burned for her—like a drug I couldn’t resist.
I pressed my body against hers as she moaned underneath me, her hands gripping onto my clothes while my hands roamed her body—her soft and succulent skin burning underneath my touch.
Our saliva danced together as I pushed my tongue deeper into her mouth, slipping my hands underneath the lace of her bra. She suddenly jerked against me, pushing me hard, and I immediately pulled away from the kiss, confusion clear on my face. We both gasped heavily.
Her face was flushed, her lips full, and she avoided making eye contact, her gaze staying fixed on the ground.
I knew she felt it. She burned for me just as much as I did for her, and I could only laugh at myself for how stupid everything was.
And then, before either of us could speak, the cellar door clicked open, revealing the agent who began to apologize.
But I didn’t bother listening to his bullshit as I walked past her.
I thought kissing her would finally satisfy what I was feeling, but I was damn wrong—and fucked.
The Bratva didn’t seem to matter anymore. Neither did the wedding, nor the fact that we were both targets of Joaquin Saavedra.
Chapter 6 – Arlette
“Whoa, Ari. You look really good,” Eleanor commented, standing beside me as we both looked at my reflection in the mirror.
And she was right. I did look good.
My wedding day arrived sooner than I ever expected or dreamed. Call me a romantic, but I had always hoped to marry someone I loved. The little girl in me always dreamed of a moment like this—sitting in front of a vanity mirror and barely recognizing myself, all dressed in the silk, ivory Carolina Herrera gown Eleanor chose for me, with makeup on, and lips painted a dark, bloody red.
I was beautiful, truly, but I still felt the hollowness in my heart. And even Eleanor’s soft gaze on me through her hazel eyes in the mirror couldn’t do anything about it. This was an unavoidable fate.
I knew I had complained about how much I hated this, but I still couldn’t get over how hurt I felt now.
And neither could the memory of that kiss that man had burned into my mind disappear. I could still recall the heat I felt all over my body as he kissed me. It wasn’t gentle or cute. It was passionate, as if he wanted to consume me. I could feel his rage through it, and yet, instead of pushing him away, I indulged him—craving the feelings he ignited in me, even.
I was lost in the passion I felt from that kiss, until I felt his burning hands on my breasts, and then I remembered that I was just a lousy virgin who didn’t mind giving it to a man I hated with my entire being, simply because of how good he made me feel.
But I was such a fool, too.
After the kiss, he pretended like nothing had happened. My face was flushed with embarrassment as the agent unlocked the door, while Rafael was composed, unshaken.
I was the fool for acting like there was anything more to that kiss than there was. I read too much into it. I thought…I thought he felt that magnetizing pull, too.
But he just saw me as any other woman he could have his way with.
The makeup artist fluffed my ginger hair, adding finishing touches and accessories to the braids she had made.
