Page 36 of The Bratva's Innocent Pregnant Bride
She smiled against her will. “You’re going down today,” she swore.
Paisley was good at a lot of things, and she knew all the rules to the different card games we gambled fake money for, but she had no poker face. At least not to me. I could read every twitch of her lip or slight raise of her eyebrows. She’d never win against me, but since she was clearly losing her optimism that we’d be rescued, I decided to throw a few hands.
The first one went just as I planned. She was adorably thrilled to take a few hundred dollars off her imaginary debt. The second time she scowled at me but accepted her win. The third time, she threw her cards down and jumped up.
“You’re cheating,” she said, glaring down at me.
I stood, irritated that my good deed was being punished. “How? I’m losing.”
“That’s just it. You don’t lose. You’re some kind of card god. You’re reverse cheating to try to put me in a good mood.”
“Wow, what a crime,” I said, growing irritated.
We’d been getting along, mostly because we were wrapped up in each other's arms eighty percent of the time, but now she was back to acting like I was her worst enemy. I’d even laid off the jokes since I knew she had baggage about things like that now. This woman was a mess.
“So you admit it,” she gasped, as if she wasn’t quite sure that I’d been letting her win.
So she was just accusing me to get a rise out of me? And it worked. We were once again like oil and a flamethrower.
“I wasn’t,” I lied. “You must be on a lucky streak or something.”
Despite not being able to read any of my own tells while we were playing, she instantly picked up on this little white lie. “It’s patronizing to let me win,” she said. “And worse to think I wouldn’t know it.”
“It’s not patronizing, whatever in the hell that’s supposed to mean. It’s nice. It was meant to be nice.”
“There. You just admitted to lying. Stop treating me like I’m five years old.”
“Stop acting like it then.”
Her eyes flared and she started to turn away, then whipped back around, hands out like she wanted to claw my eyes out. I crossed my arms and stared at her, all but daring her to try something. She flung herself forward, thumping me on the chest. I dropped my arms and made the supreme sin of laughing.
She thumped me again and grabbed my shoulders. “You’re insufferable.”
“Same,” I answered.
We glared at each other, then at the same moment burst out laughing. A second after that, our lips were locked, her arms wrapped around my neck, my hands roaming through her thick hair. She raised herself on her toes, pressing every inch of her lush body against me.
My cock started to rise as I pushed my tongue into her mouth, moving my hands down her back to cup her ass and bring her even closer to me. We continued laughing softly as wekissed, her hands moving up the back of my neck to run her fingers through my hair.
We’d been boiling water to wash but we were both bedraggled and tangled. Neither of us cared as soon as we fell into the blanket nest at all times of the day or night. Time didn’t matter here, when it was just us and all we had was each other. She tasted like the chocolate chip protein bars but because it was on Paisley’s tongue, it was sweeter than nectar.
Her breasts mashed against my chest as she tightened her grip around my neck, pulling herself higher to rub against me, then sliding back down with a soft moan. There was no reality here. The Collective hadn’t once broken into my thoughts during these three days with Paisley. She consumed me, both body and mind.
I tightened my grip, and as I lifted her up, her legs locked around my waist. I groaned as she ground her heat against me, and carried her to the counter. As soon as she rested on it, I slid my hands under her top, tweaking her pert nipples and making her squeak.
“Too cold?” I asked, leaning down to suckle her, breathing warm air over her goosebumps.
Suddenly her hands stilled on my shoulders and she was pushing instead of tugging. “Listen,” she said, stiff and alert as she shoved me back to slide to the floor. Standing as still as a statue, she cocked her head and pointed upward. “Listen,” she repeated in a whisper.
I heard it a moment later, a sound like no other. “Helicopter,” I said.
She nodded, whooping as she hurried to throw her boots on. Slamming open the door, she threw herself into the little passageway in the shoulder height snow that we’d made. Ifollowed, bringing her parka to throw over her shoulders as she jumped up and down and waved her arms.
I copied her, shouting at the top of my lungs. The helicopter dipped and circled around, and Paisley threw herself into my arms with relief.
“They saw us,” she cried, pulling my head down to kiss me. “We’re getting out of here.”
I held onto her, pulling her back inside before she got too cold. Was I a little disappointed that we’d been found? Hell yes. Dwindling firewood, disgusting rations, rusty water be damned. I was with my woman. And yes, she was mine. She was a mess, but my mess, and it seemed like she was starting to believe it herself with the way she clung onto me in her happiness.
