Page 52 of Plus-Size Bride Forced By the Bratva
Looking back now, I realized that he only became rough with me after I broke our kiss the first time and reclaimed his lips with a burning intensity. This meant that Lev had to match my energy because I wanted him to treat me roughly.
His touch, his kiss—they were all gentle at first—like he’d intended to go slower if he hadn’t switched things up. One thingwas clear: There was more to Lev Tarasov’s sexual desire that I had yet to explore, and I couldn’t wait to do so.
We’d definitely have sex again. I wasn’t sure when or where. But seeing that we’d already crossed this line, it was bound to happen again and again and again until it became a habit.
***
For the rest of the day, Lev Tarasov haunted my thoughts. The memory of our time together looped in my mind, each time awakening a different ache inside me.
The next few days sped past like a blur, and Lev was hardly around. Even when he was home, he was always busy in his office. He hadn’t told me anything yet, but I could sense that the attack on our lives the other day had eaten deeper than he cared to admit.
I overheard him speaking on the phone two days ago. The conversation was mainly in Russian, but judging by the few English words he chipped in, I figured he was worried about a mole in his close circle.
The feminine part of me that needed his attention, his touch, and caresses thought he was only ignoring me because he’d taken what he wanted. But I knew that wasn’t true. Lev was distant because he was working on fishing out the man responsible for the attack that had almost claimed my life.
If this were true, and there really was a mole among his men, then neither of us was safe. Anyone in this penthouse could be the Judas who betrayed him; any one of them could be the compromised one.
I should be afraid for my life, and his as well. But for some reason, I wasn’t. It was almost like a huge part of me trusted his ability to keep me safe. The manhadjumped in front of a speeding bullet for me. That was the highest form of selflessness.If he could do that without hesitation, I had no doubt that he’d do all he could to protect me from whoever was after my life.
Being his wife had put a giant bullseye on my back, making me a target for his enemies who believed that I was his weakness. It sounded ridiculous to me at first that anyone would think that Lev had a weakness or thatIwas his weakness. However, with everything that had happened recently, I was starting to see the possibility.
Even though he was hardly around these past few days, our paths had crossed a couple of times, and I couldn’t help noticing the changes in him. He seemed brighter, and each time he looked at me, his gaze would linger a beat too long.
He’d smiled at me more than a few times—not that crooked, self-satisfied smirk of his, but a real, genuine smile. It was always faint. But genuine. It felt like these tiny moments chipped away at the cold, ruthless mask he’d worn since the beginning.
Just yesterday, while I was wandering the hallways in a bid to clear my mind, I bumped into him after rounding a corner.
The sudden collision shook my hand, spilling my hot coffee on his impeccably tailored black suit.
Lev spread out his arms, cursing in Russian.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you coming,” I quickly apologized, lifting my head to meet his gaze.
His expression softened the moment he realized who was careless enough to have ruined his suit. I watched his countenance move from pissed to something a lot lighter within seconds.
I quietly brushed my fist over the affected area while still looking up at him. His eyes bore into mine, and with each passing second, a flutter rose in my chest. Images of our time together in the library flooded my mind, leaving me distracted.
“You might just be making it worse,” his voice cut through my thoughts.
“Huh?” I snapped back to reality, and that’s when I traced his gaze to the mess I was making with my fist. I thought I was wiping the coffee stain off his jacket, but I was only spreading it further. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat and straightened my spine.
“It’s okay.”
Yakov, his right-hand man, stood beside him, his gaze shifting between the two of us as if he were wondering what the hell was going on here. It took the conspicuous clearing of his throat to remind us of his presence. He said something to Lev in Russian, probably reminding him of the task at hand.
Lev stole one last glance at me before picking up his pace. I stood there alone in the hallway, watching him leave without looking back at me.
The truth was, I was starting to see a different version of Lev Tarasov that made me want to understand him better. Whatever emotion he’d stirred up within was as intriguing as it was terrifying.
We’d flipped to the next page of our story, and honestly, it was a blank sheet of paper. I had no idea where this was going or what the future held for both of us. But I was willing to stick around and find out.
Chapter 24 —Lev
The front door opened, and Yakov walked inside with a file in his hand. Quietly, he shut the door behind him and approached my desk, his shoes scuffing against the floor.
At first, I didn’t lift my head from the lit laptop screen in front of me—I’d been distracted by thoughts of Ravyn and had decided to focus on work a bit. But his lingering gaze and towering height were too pronounced to ignore.
Yakov didn’t say anything; he just stood there like a statue, waiting for his presence to be acknowledged. I knew the man all too well; whenever he came around me with such deafening silence, it was because he was about to drop some news I might chop someone’s head off over.
