Page 8 of Bratva Queen

I couldn’t lie, relief washed through me at the thought as well. But how could I ever repay him for such kindness? Listening to my mother list all the ways our life would be better, I pushed aside my concerns, allowing myself to dream of the possibilities with her.

But I had to face the facts. By doing something so incredibly nice, I couldn’t possibly say no to his advances anymore.I owed him. What kind of a person wouldn’t go out with the man who’d just waived her rent for eternity?

I tried to explain my concerns about Stepan and his odd persistence to Mama, but she waved them off. “Oh, nonsense,” she said.

“But you’re the one who warned me against men at the club. They’re all dirty, remember?Ublyudki?”

She shook her head with a dazed smile. “How bad could the man be if he paid off our apartment? He must really like you. If I were you, I’d snatch him up now, before another woman does.”

I shook my head, struggling to take it all in. Such a grand gesture had my head spinning. “But if he really likes me, then wouldn’t he turn away other women?”

My mother let out a loud laugh. “Meelaya,you need to live in the real world and understand that it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Just because he likes you, doesn’t mean he’ll wait around forever. He’s young and has his life ahead of him.”

Still, I didn’t understand what she was saying. In my mind, if you loved someone, you would wait forever for them. But what did I know? I’d never been outside of the city, outside of my life here. I didn’t know a thing about the real world, aside from bills and work.

“Think of it like this,” she said. “He could have bought you flowers. Instead, he buys you an apartment. How much does one man need to give before you’ll give him a chance?”

I nodded slowly in agreement. I mean, it was true—Stepan had already done more for me than any other man had. Hell, he’d done more for me before our first date than my father had done for my mother in 20 years of marriage. Maybe she was right. If I’d met Stepan anywhere else, I would’ve jumped at the chance to go out with him.

Yes. She’s right. Tonight at work, I’ll tell him yes.

But when I got to the club, he wasn’t there. Nor was he there the next evening, or the next. Several days later, I still hadn’t seen him.

He paid for my rent and then apparently, disappeared.

* * *

About a week had passedand I began to feel a little… neglected. I knew nothing was official, but Stepan had practically saved my ass from eviction; didn’t that mean something?

When I arrived home after my shift, it was early morning and my mother had just left to get to her own job on time. It was weird to not see her that often anymore, but on this particular night, I felt relieved to have some privacy. I was exhausted, I couldn’t hold up any kind of conversation, let alone my mama asking about Stepan, again. Every time I told her that he had once again not shown up, she became annoyed. With me. As though I’d done something wrong.

I dropped into bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke to a rough hand sliding up my thigh. With my energy completely drained, my eyes refused to open and I just smiled, humming lightly in approval. My body squirmed slowly, arching, moving closer to the presence of this enticing feeling.

His hand traveled higher up and tickled my waist. I giggled. A knee bowed the bed between my thighs as he leaned over me with his heavy body. I felt a warm breath brush over my cheek, and I turned toward the sensation, lifting myself, drawing closer to the sweet scent.

I kissed him.

His lips were so full and so hot, gentle but pressing forward with an urgency I matched equally. My hands lifted and I touched his cheeks, feeling the rough stubble, pulling him down to me. His thigh between my legs lowered with the weight of his body and pressed down against my center.

“Ah!” I moaned, having never experienced the hard body of a man pressing against methere. Sure, men touched me at the club, but never in my most intimate place. Never like this. And I never had this kind of reaction either—a desperate, burning need to push back and feel more.So much more.

“Stepan…?” I asked tentatively, my eyes slowly fluttering open.

“No, Isabel,” a familiar, deep voice said. “It’s me.” The blurriness of sleep cleared, and I saw him. Aleksei. Staring down at me so hungrily with that same dangerous, forbidden, almost angry glare he always had whenever he looked at me. A heat bloomed within me, and I was surprised at the sudden elation I felt to know it was him touching me. Actuallywantingto touch me.

I kissed him again, sliding my hands around his neck and pulling him down. His thigh pushed my legs apart, and I felt him lower his body down onto mine. My mouth opened slowly, his tongue slid softly inside and twirled my own in a dance of sensation. My knees pulled up and my feet touched the backs of his thighs, skimming down to his calves.

“Hmmm… Isabel…” he groaned into my mouth.

I dragged my teeth gently over his bottom lip, pulling at him. “Aleksei… I want you,” I moaned, needily. My voice sounded whiny, like a spoiled girl begging for what she wanted but couldn’t have.

I bucked my body up and he pushed his down. That prominent, hard bulge I felt that night as I danced for him pressed against my heated pussy, and I cried out.

The noise awoke me suddenly.

It was a dream. I was breathing hard with need and realized that I had my leg wrapped around a pillow, pushing against it desperately.

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