Page 13 of Sold to the Bratva
He wouldn’t even need to touch me. He’d just direct and command, and I’d…
A sharp rap splits the air. I freeze, heart hammering even louder. Shit.
I fumble the vibrator off and shove it under the covers. My legs tangle in the sheets as I grab the nearest robe, cinching it tight while I school my expression. The knock comes again, harder.
I cross the room, heart hammering, robe half tied, and completely annoyed. If no one’s going to give me a proper goodbye, the least they could do is leave me alone so I can get off.
I swing the door open expecting staff, or worse, my father. Instead, it’s Isaac. I blink, rub my eyes, half-convinced the tequila has turned him into a hallucination.
But when my vision clears, he’s still there, shoulder propped against the frame, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other braced on the wall. That infuriating smirk is back, cockier than ever.
“One thing you should learn about me, wife,” he says, voice low and infuriatingly smug, “is that I’m a man of my word.”
5
ISAAC
The moment the door swings open, I know I’ve caught her off guard. Her robe hangs half-tied, cheeks flushed, and hair a tumble of messy waves. Her lips part in surprise, eyes wide and uncertain. Nothing like the hellfire she’s hurled at me since the moment we met.
Behind her, barely visible across the room, half-tucked beneath the covers, lies a sleek purple vibrator. Well, this has been made way easier for me now.
I drag my gaze back to her face, watching color flood her cheeks when she realizes what I’ve seen. She shifts, sliding into the hall to pull the door halfway closed, but it’s far too late.
My mouth curls into a slow, deliberate grin. “Thinking about me, were you, wife?”
She opens her mouth, then snaps it shut. Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her eyes narrow, but the panic behind them is impossible to miss. She really was thinking about me. Holy shit.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Her voice is sharp, but the edge is dulled. Her stance is defensive, but her legs are too close together. Unsteady. Drunk.
I step forward, slow and deliberate. “Figured I should check in on you.”
Her brows furrow. “I was just…”
“Trying to annoy me?” I cut in. “I figured.”
I lean one shoulder against the doorframe. My hands stay in my pockets. I make no move toward her.
“But here’s the thing,” I continue, tilting my head slightly, “I’m a patient man. It takes a lot more than that to rattle me.”
She glares. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty more where that came from,” she says, forcing toughness, but the crack in her voice gives her away. I’ve found the weak spot in her armor.
“I actually found it amusing,” I say, my voice low.
Her chin lifts stubbornly. “You’re easily entertained,” she quips. “No surprise there.”
I glance past her again, deliberately, and watch her fingers tighten on the robe, her whole body stiffens because she knows exactly where my mind is.
“Did I interrupt something?” I ask softly, nodding toward the bed.
She doesn’t answer, but she definitely doesn’t deny it. Flushed cheeks and disheveled hair say everything. I push off the doorframe and step inside slowly. She retreats a single pace but doesn’t stop me.
“You won’t need that much longer,” I say, my voice dropping to a velvet growl. “I told you I always leave my women satisfied. Tonight I’m here to prove it.”
Her breath catches, and her body melts as if she’s already poised. The robe parts just enough to reveal a strip of her thigh, lace peeking beneath. Her pale skin blooms rosy, as though it burns under my gaze. I want to explore every inch, press every button that makes her come undone.
Her breathing turns fast and shallow. When I take a slow sidestep, she stays rooted, watching me with a mix of fire, fear, and something even hotter glittering in her eyes.
