Page 262 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

“Even if it’s directly opposed to what you want?” she asks, as though she’s embarrassed to be asking the question at all.

“Esme, I know you never wanted this,” I say. “I forced this on you. This life. This marriage. I—”

She grabs my hands and pulls them to her chest, cutting off the rest of my sentence.

“It was the best thing I was forced into, though,” she says, taking me by surprise. “I know I’m probably setting feminism back a few decades by admitting that, but it’s my truth.”

I smile. This kind of intimacy isn’t second nature to me.

I pull her back to me. “I want you to know that I have been thinking a lot about our plan,” I tell her. “I know what you want. I’m trying to see if that’s possible.”

“Have you spoken to Cillian about it?” she asks.

“No, I haven’t,” I admit. “It’s something I need to discuss face to face.”

I had called him yesterday and we’d had another chat. I’d tried several times to bring up the fact that I was thinking of abandoning my claim to the Bratva and just handing it over to Budimir.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud.

Every time I tried, my throat constricted in protest.

I want to make this decision for myself and no one else. But still, that toxic thought at the back of my head keeps ticking incessantly.

Stanislav will be rolling in his grave knowing what you’re thinking..

My father is dead, I tell myself a dozen times over.

But it doesn’t matter. The shame of relinquishing my right to the Bratva settles over me like a weight I can’t shake.

So why am I giving Esme hope?

Because you want to believe in it as much as she does.

Sometimes I forget what sweet nectar denial is.

“Are you hungry?” Esme asks, cutting through my thoughts.

Grateful for the distraction, I focus my attention on her. Even after all this time, her hazel eyes are still arresting as ever. They draw me in every single fucking time.

“I thought we already established that I’m fucking starving,” I say, grabbing her ass and squeezing hard.

She laughs and tries to get away from me, but I pin her down between my arms as I roll on top of her.

“Artem!” she screams.

I ignore her and nuzzle my way down her neck, between her bare breasts, to where her hips dip low.

“What do you think you’re doing, mister?” she demands, breathless with laughter.

“Taking what I want.”

It takes me only one quick pull to get her panties off. She slips in just that these days.

By then, I can see the lust igniting in her face. Her legs part willingly for me and I settle between them, running my tongue around her pussy lips first.

At first touch, she gasps and shudders before settling into the bed pillows with a sigh.

I tease her walls before plunging my tongue between them. Her hands find my hair and cling on her for dear life.

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