Page 44 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

My ears were ringing, and my heart pumped so loud I could go deaf.

I always believed that words, when chosen carefully, could ease any wound. But as I looked at Miron, I threw all caution to the wind, going all in to hurt him as much as this tore me to shreds.

Because I couldn’t deny it.

Once again, there was that gut instinct that told me he wasn’t lying.

“How dare you?” He pushed his chair back, and I glared at him as he walked over to my end of the table. “Why would you do this to me? Was this why you invited me here? To humiliate me?”

“Humiliate you?” He looked anything but apologetic. “It was driving me fucking nuts that you were staying devoted to someone undeserving. A man who doesn’t even respect you enough to tell you to your face that he has someone else.”

Hearing that broke me, and a tear slipped to my cheek.

Eight years of hoping and waiting. Eight years of loving unconditionally, even when it was inconvenient. Eight years of thinking I was the only one for him and believing that he had me.

“Drivingyounuts? It wasn’t your business, Miron! God! It wasn’t your—” More tears rushed out, and I lost control over holding them in. “You had no right…you had no right to go poking your nose in something that doesn’t concern you.”

I blinked hard, but the tears poured down anyway, blurring the hard expression on Miron’s face. He sighed, a slow, measured sound, and then, he surprised us both.

His hand moved before I could stop it. His fingers, calloused and firm, brushed against my cheek. A rough thumb caught the tear before it could fall further, and his touch startled me.

I stilled. He did, too.

His jaw tightened, as if regretting the moment already. “You’re crying.”

His touch was unexpected, warm against my skin, and for a moment, I forgot the weight in my chest. He didn’t pull away immediately, his thumb lingering as if waiting for me to push his hand away. I didn’t.

My throat was tight when I swallowed. “And it’s your fault.”

His hand dropped, but the space between us felt impossibly small. I hadn’t realized how close we were standing until now.

Until I could feel his warmth. Until I noticed the way the light caught the sharp angles of his face and the intensity brewing in the depths of his blue eyes.

It was raw, unguarded.

The atmosphere between us had shifted, thickened. Maybe long before this moment, and neither of us noticed. A slow, magnetic pull drew me in, and I didn’t resist.

I reached for him first, wrapping my hand around his neck to bring his lips down to mine, breathing him in.

The impact was hard, almost knocking me off balance, and his lips were firm against mine. Unmoving. Or more like shocked.

I practically flew backward, and my hand shot to my mouth. “Oh, God. What have I…what did I do? Miron, I’m sorry. That was a mistake. I didn’t mean to—”

“Please, shut up.”

His mouth covered mine as he slipped his arms around me. His hand, still warm from touching my cheek, slid to my jaw, tugging it to part my lips.

There was nothing hesitant about the way he kissed me. It was harder, demanding, consuming. He kissed me like a man who never asked—only took.

But this wasn’t theft.

He sucked on my tongue, nibbled on my lips, and groped my ass with one of his hands, like he was claiming a prized possession. And I let him.

I melted against him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He was solid beneath my hands, yet the way he held me, tucking me against his chest with one arm locked around my waist, made me feel something I hadn’t in a long time.

Wanted.

I was barely breathing, only inhaling him, tasting thismanwho managed to make my head swim from the first day he stepped into my office.

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