Page 31 of British Bratva: A Russian Mafia Romance

My heart was pounding as I turned around again, hands at my breasts as much to cover them as to still the need I had to be touched.

I knew he wanted me.

I’d seen it in his eyes in the ring and his hunger was more enticing than anything I’d ever known. He looked at me and saw me. It wasn’t like the customers at the hotel who just saw a short skirt and a pretty face. I turned him on by pushing through his defences with a tricky uppercut and a pulled suckerpunch.

But he had to see me as more than someone to fight.

I didn’t want to feel like someone’s entertainment. Sutherland’s good little stepdaughter who didn’t mind his sleazy friends trying to touch me up. I wanted a man like Maxim, who made me feel attractive, like I could be just another woman, sexual and whole.

Slowly, I lowered my hands away from my breasts, refusing to allow myself any embarrassment. I had nothing to be ashamed of. My body was strong and defiant, and there was nobody else looking out of their window on this street. This entire show was for Maxim. Just like I wanted it to be.

Slowly I slid my hand across my belly, down in a diagonal line to my hip and I let my fingers drift inside my knickers.

I bit my lip as my fingers grazed over the hood of my clit, eyes drifting closed as I imagined his rough hands on me instead.

Again, I leaned down to fog the glass of the window with my breath.

Keep watching.

When I looked again, Maxim was standing at the window, a tight, steely glare on his face, arms folded tight across his chest, testing the buttons of his shirt. But there was no mistaking the erection tenting at the crotch of his black jeans. I let out a breath that shivered through me.

He shook his head slowly, but I didn’t care.

I echoed the motion, feeling the crackle of his eyes meeting mine, even across the distance. No one had ever made me feel the way he did. I needed more. I swallowed to wet my dry throat and turned the shake of my head into a slow nod.

If he wasn’t going to come to me, this was all that was in my power to do, and I was doing it. He had to know that I wanted him.

Holding his eye contact as best I could across the distance, I shimmied my knickers down my hips, stepping out of them when they dropped to the floor. Instinctively I pressed a hand to the flat of my stomach, just above the tangle of my pubic hair.

I wanted him to touch me so badly it hurt, but I was on the wrong side of the road, all by myself in a house that wasn’t my home any longer.

He picked up that piece of paper again, holding the phrase to his chest, and I shook my head again.

The only way he’d make me stop was by coming over here himself. That was all I really wanted.

The last thing I was going to do was stop when he couldn’t take his eyes off me. Out of all the men I knew in my life, he was the only one I felt like I had some kind of power over, and that was almost ridiculous given how serious and strong he was. He had to be the best part of a foot taller than me and I had no doubt he could snap me in half if he chose to.

But there had been something in his eyes that told me he’d never even try it, never want to hurt me. And it was so seductive thinking that all that strength was there for me alone.

All I could do was press myself up against the glass and stroke between my folds, touching myself with careful fingers until I found the perfect spot and my hips rocked to press harder against my hand. I was slick, dripping wetness down between my thighs, and even though I was a virgin I knew this was what my body felt like when it was hungry for him and ready to take his cock.

I wasn’t the good little girl I was supposed to be in another life where everything had gone to plan. I was never going to be her in this one. And moth to the flame, he was drawing me in. I didn’t care if he was trouble, he was everything I wanted, and if this was a mistake then I didn’t care. It was already better than the life I was trapped in.

I wanted everything he could give me, even if it made me combust.

Maxim

From the second she dropped the straps of her dress, Elizabeth had my attention. I was riveted in place. Nothing could have pulled me away from the window.

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