Page 22 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

This wasn’t our usual sweet, soft, and chaste kisses that I was used to. It was rough and demanding. He kissed me like he wanted me, tasted me like he couldn’t get enough, and held me like he wanted us to stay forever this way.

I was shivering, shamelessly burning for this man, so much so that happy tears pricked the back of my eyes. But he was still holding back, with his jaw and fingers twitching. I wanted him to unleash and just snap and….

I let my hand wander from his neck, past his chest, and down to his—where I really wanted him.

Before I started on the belt, I splayed my palm flat and pressed on the very visible bulge between his legs. God, he was so hard and firm, I wanted to cry. He wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

My senses went on overdrive, and I detached my lips from his to suck on his neck. If he wasn’t going to take the initiative, I was willing to.

I stroked him through his jeans, lifting myself from the couch to hold him in place as I kissed and sucked on every bare skin I could taste. I breathed like a panther while he murmured something, wrapped my waist with one hand, and slid the other under my very short dress. I squirmed against him, urging him to go higher.

And when his hand skimmed up my hip, I grabbed and fixed it between my parted legs.

His eyes snapped open, and he pulled back. “Hazel.”

I flinched. Nathan never called me by name unless it was serious.

And it was serious.

I had not only ditched my bra; I completely disregarded wearing panties, too. So, I knew why Nathan looked at me like we’d committed the biggest atrocity in the world.

I was soaking wet.

So wet that when he pulled his hand away, I saw myself glistening on his finger—which he immediately wiped on his jeans.

I deflated like a balloon and collapsed on the couch. “I’m sorry,” I forced out, but I didn’t feel even a shred of remorse.

“Hazel…cupcake, you know why we can’t do this.” He looked as ruffled as I felt. “It’s not that I don’t want you. We just…can’t.”

I didn’t look at him because if I did, I was going to burst into tears. As I said, he had the power to disarm me, and that included messing with my emotions.

“I know.”

For eight years, I’d known. We never went past first base. In fact, our first kiss had been so quick, I thought the air brushed my lips.

Nathan had another very striking exceptionality: He was a devout Christian, firm and believing. And his faith didn’t permit premarital intimacy. Intimacy, as in sex. He didn’t know what I looked like beneath my layer of clothes, and I didn’t know how big he wasdown there.The most I’d gotten were the mouth-watering view of his bare chest and ripped abs on a few occasions, like when we went swimming.

And while I respected and appreciated his discipline, there were days—like today!—when I desperately wanted him to just let go. I was constantly left to deal with the pent-up sexual frustration, but I wouldn’t force him to succumb to any kind of pressure, knowing how important it was to him to wait till marriage.

He pushed himself off the couch, and I felt his pitiful stare burning the side of my face.

“Don’t look at me like that, Nathan. I don’t want pity.”

“Hazel, it’s not pity. I’m just sorry we have to stop every time. I know you want more, but I can’t give it to you. Not right now.”

There was not much to say anymore; nothing particularly could clear the tension in the air unless he decided to—

“I’ve got to get back to my hotel now.”

To leave.

“Okay.”

His shoes ruffled the rug, and he came close, but not close enough. He pressed a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

I still didn’t look at him. “Sure.”

“I love you, cupcake.” I heard him sigh before he reluctantly walked away, and when the door clicked shut, I reached for my iPad before a single tear could drop from my eyes.

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