Page 56 of Scarred Bratva King

Elena smiles faintly, her voice quiet but firm. “Or maybe he surprises you. Maybe he’s waiting for you to take the first step.”

I sit there for a moment, her words sinking in, but the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen. “I can’t,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I’m not brave like you, Elena. I can’t risk it.”

Her hand lingers on mine for a moment before she pulls back. “Then you’ll never know. Tell him. Trust me.”

The house is silent, and I’ve been tossing and turning for what feels like hours, my thoughts chasing themselves in endless circles.

When the door creaks open, I jolt upright, my heart thudding in my chest. A shadowy figure steps inside, moving with quiet purpose.

“Maxim?” I whisper, my voice a mix of surprise and confusion.

He doesn’t answer immediately, closing the door softly behind him. The faint light catches on his sharp features, his expression unreadable.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says finally, his voice rough, like gravel tumbling over velvet. “Went for a walk.”

Before I can reply, he sits on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress.

I swallow hard, my breath hitching as he slips off his shoes and leans back against the headboard, his body radiating heat. He doesn’t touch me, but the air between us hums with unspoken tension.

Silence stretches between us, not awkward but heavy with things left unsaid. I find myself leaning closer, drawn to him in a way I can’t explain.

“Sometimes I forget this marriage isn’t real,” I admit, my voice barely audible.

His gaze sharpens, his eyes locking onto mine. “Who said it’s all pretend,” he says quietly.

The crackling tension between us finally snaps as he leans in, his lips brushing mine with a tenderness that takes my breath away. The kiss starts slow but it deepens quickly, his hand coming up to cup my face.

My hands find their way to his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt exciting me. When he pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes burn

“Veronica,” he says, my name a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

I don’t let him finish, pulling him back to me, the kiss turning frantic. He shifts, his weight pressing me into the mattress as his hands roam over me, lighting up every nerve ending in their wake.

I sit up, pushing him back onto the bed. I straddle his hips, my hands resting on his chest.

He smirks, his hands gripping my waist. “You think you can handle me?”

His hands slip under my camisole, his fingers tracing the curve of my spine. I sit back, pulling the camisole over my head and tossing it aside. His gaze rakes over me, and I can see the hunger in his eyes.

My hands slide down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. “You’re so tense,” I murmur, my fingers brushing over his skin. “Let me take care of you this time.”

His hands grip my hips tighter, and I can feel the tension coiled in his body. “You always know how to push my buttons.”

My fingers trail lower, teasing the waistband of his pants. I lean down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. “Tell me what you want.”

His voice is rough, his accent thicker than usual. “You.”

I smile, nipping at his lower lip. “Good answer.” My hands work at his belt, and moments later, his pants are on the floor.

I shift, positioning myself over him, my breath catching as I feel the heat of him against my core. “You’re mine, Maxim. Say it.”

His hands grip my thighs, his eyes locked on mine. “I’m yours.”

I sink onto him, a moan escaping my lips as he fills me. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

His hands move to my hips, guiding me as I start to move. “Ride me, Veronica. Show me how much you want me.”

My hands grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I move faster. “You like that?” I tease, my voice breathless. “You like watching me take control?”

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