Page 29 of Sold to the Bratva
Her eyes flicker to mine.
“I thought you were enjoying yourself.”
“I’ve already had everything I want today.”
Her gaze lingers for half a beat before she nods. I take her hand in mine and guide her out the side entrance, away from the clinking of champagne glasses and hollow toasts. No one stops us.
To anyone who doesn’t know better, we probably look like a happy bride and groom sneaking away to enjoy our wedding night. It must seem as though we truly love each other and can’t wait to get our hands on one another. For just a second, I let myself believe that version of events.
She leads me to her bedroom, perhaps forgetting that it’s not really hers anymore. Her assistant has already moved all of herthings into my room.Ourroom. But I allow her this space. I promise myself that if she asks me to leave, I will and let her enjoy her solitude after going through what must have been a very difficult day for her.
But when we’re inside the room with the door shut, she turns to face me, a little breathless.
“Help me out of this?” she asks, gesturing to the tight ribbon holding her dress closed.
My chest tightens and I can’t speak. I just nod and close the distance between us. She turns around, lifting her hair to expose the complicated knots. The dress is sleek and fitted, hugging every curve like it was made to torment me. My fingers tremble slightly as I undo the first knot, then the next.
The silence between us thickens, nearly tangible. Each button I loosen reveals more of her, and with it, less of my restraint. My throat goes dry and I suddenly crave the champagne fountain outside.
The dress slips from her shoulders. She catches it with her arms, holding it to her chest, and turns back to face me.
“You’re staring,” she says, her lips slightly parted, her eyes mocking.
“I can’t help it,” I admit, taking a step away from her, trying to catch my breath. “You’re beautiful.”
Her breath catches. Neither of us moves, the tension between us so thick I can barely breathe. I want to touch her, taste her, and give her everything she refuses to ask for with her words.
I know she sees the flicker in my jaw, the way my breath catches when her dress slides from her shoulders and pools at her feet. She looks up at me in defiance, challenging me.
Katya stands there, wrapped in lace lingerie that could send me to an early grave. God help me. I want her. I need her. I feel a hunger that’s been building since the moment she walked down that aisle in black, trying to shock me. Trying, always, to take control of the situation.
Right now, the only control I have left is holding my hands at my sides and not pulling her against me. I don’t want to push her. But, as always, this is just a game to her.
She sees my restraint and decides to make it worse.
Her hips sway as she starts to move across the room, slow and deliberate, with a sashay that would tempt God himself. The lace clings to every curve, leaving so little to my imagination. She walks without speaking, turning her back to me again as if she knows the view will finish the job. It almost does.
“Katya,” I say, my voice low and rough.
She looks back at me over her shoulder, smirking.
“I’m holding on to the last of my self-control right now,” I say through clenched teeth. “Don’t push me unless you’re sure.”
She halts, silent, then faces me, curiosity and unmistakable desire burning in her eyes. It has to be a trick.
She draws the first word out, voice low and seductive. “Maybe. Maybe I don’t want you to hold back. Maybe I wished you went ahead and fucked me that night you showed up to my house too.”
My jaw clenches. “I thought you didn’t like me.”
Her lips curve as she takes another step forward, closing the space between us until her chest brushes mine. Her breath is warm against my throat. Her fingers skim lightly over my shirt collar. “Hmm. Maybe I was wrong about you.”
I stare down at her, pulse thudding in my throat. “Do you want me just as much as I want you, wife?”
She grins, slow and wicked and beautiful. “Kiss me and find out.”
My restraint snaps. I crash my mouth to hers, and the second our lips meet, everything I’ve been holding back ignites. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I don’t hesitate. I wrap my arms around her, one hand curling at her lower back, the other sliding up to tangle in her hair.
She tastes like champagne and sin as her mouth parts for me instantly, like she’s been waiting. It feels like this is the moment everything’s been building to, and I’d be a fool to waste it.
