Page 54 of Sold to the Bratva
“You’ve made the best of it. You’ve stayed. You’ve challenged me. You’ve taken on a life that was forced on you and made it your own. And now you’re carrying our child.”
She puts down her fork, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to predict where this is headed. I stand up, walk around the table, and kneel beside her.
Her brows rise in surprise and confusion.
“I never wanted marriage either,” I tell her honestly. “I never wanted children or anyone in my life who could be used against me. And, frankly, I didn’t think I deserved to have any of that until you.”
She swallows hard, tears already spilling from her stunning green eyes.
“From the moment you stormed into my office, full of sass and fire, I knew I was in trouble. I knew that you were exactly the person I never realized I needed.”
Her eyes shimmer, and she shifts in her seat slightly, but doesn’t interrupt.
“You saw me,” I continue. “The real me. And you didn’t flinch. You challenged me. You met me on my bullshit and didn’t back down. And somewhere in all of that chaos, I fell for you.”
Silence. Her chest rises and falls, shallow and fast.
“I love you, Katya.”
She stares at me for a long time. Then her hands reach for my face, cupping my cheeks, pulling me up as she leans down to meet me in the middle. The kiss is immediate. Deep. Not tentative or unsure, but molten. She kisses me like she’s laying claim to me.
I grip her hips, pull her to her feet, and her arms wrap around my neck. We stumble back from the table, knocking a chair slightly askew as our bodies press together.
“I may be pregnant, but I’m still your wife. And as your wife, I demand you take me to bed right now.”
21
KATYA
In Isaac’s arms I’m weightless, buoyed by the flex of his forearms as he strides down the hall toward our bedroom. My heart drums at a frantic pace, every beat a promise. I’m already drenched, aching to feel him. His confession still reverberates, impossibly seductive, turning my insides to molten lava.
When we reach the room, he lowers me to the mattress and brackets my body with his arms. The smile curving his mouth intoxicates me, and the raw lust in his eyes shoots adrenaline through my veins.
“Come here.” I slide my fingers into his hair and pull him into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.
His tongue is velvety warm, flavored with the chocolate tart we abandoned on the table. I’d almost feel bad we never finished it, but this is a far better dessert, with no offense to Maude.
I savor the glide of his tongue against mine, both claiming and yielding at once. He has laid himself bare, vulnerable in a way I never could have predicted. Isaac Kozlov isn’t a sentimental man, yet he loves me.
I’m breathless, not only from the realization but from the way he kisses me as if his life depends on it, as if I’m the very air in his lungs.
“I didn’t say it back,” I whisper against his lips, suddenly aware of how uneven we are.
He has given me this beautiful gift of his love, and all I’ve offered in return is raw, unbridled lust. He hums against my mouth, apparently unbothered. For him, this is enough. I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. They brim with passion, slightly unfocused.
“Isaac,” I murmur.
“It’s all right,” he says, cupping my cheek. “If you can’t say it yet, I understand. I’d rather hear the words when you mean them, not out of obligation.”
He kisses me again, as though he’s afraid of what I might say or of my silence. So I show him instead. He can quiet my words, but he can’t still my body. My hands roam down his torso to find his hardened length, and he makes no move to stop me.
“You’re a fucking temptress,” he tells me. “From the first day I met you. It’s like you live to turn me on.”
“I live to drive you insane,” I tease, remembering how bratty I was at first, how hard I tried to push him away.
I can’t get him close enough. I need him in my veins, something deeper than a flash of white-hot desire that ends in mutual pleasure. My body speaks a language I never learned, one crafted for him alone to bring him pleasure and to be pleasured by him.
I moan into his mouth as his hands slide up the bare skin of my thighs. Every nerve ending sparks, my cells vibrating with anticipation. I love him, too. The realization slams into me like a freight train, sending a shock of pleasure through my core. I arch against him, and he can’t hold back the groan when our bodies press tight. It’s unlike any pleasure I’ve ever known, and it isn’t only physical. It’s emotional as well, a flood of dopamine that tingles through every inch of me.
