Page 47 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

All it took was one drive, one loud growl, and we exploded at the same time, merging the bubbles of reality and fantasy. I quivered violently as I came, and his body collapsed on mine, our harsh breaths mingling and chests heaving as we came down from the roller coaster.

And when all was calm, the nagging voice was louder.

What have I done?

Chapter 17 – Miron

Smoke curled in the air, the scent of expensive perfume and spilled liquor thick around us. The men were in good spirits, and the music in the club was great. I didn’t expect any less when my brother owned the place.

Damien had a blonde draped over his lap, laughing at something she said, while Damir was busy with a girl I’d known for less than twenty minutes.

Me? I had a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other, and that was all I needed.

“You’re no fun tonight,” Damien drawled, swirling his whiskey. He looked from Genevieve, who was busy giving Damir a lap dance, to me. “I could have sworn you liked her.”

My brother had a voice as loud as two mega speakers, so she heard. She held my gaze, and something fleeting, almost like hurt, passed her green eyes before she turned around to stuff her face in Damir’s neck.

I didn’t care, and I didn’tlikeher. It was twenty minutes of fleeting attraction.

“I thought I did, too. Damir’s a better pick, though. He’d pay attention to all her needs.”

Damien snorted and spanked the blondie’s ass. “So, what then? Screw her. All these gorgeous women, and you’re just going to sit there, acting like a goddamn monk?”

I exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching the bodies move on the dance floor, heat and sweat and hunger in every glance exchanged. None of it interested me. “A man who eats steak at home doesn’t go looking for scraps in the gutter.”

“And he’s a motivational speaker now?” Damien’s laughter caught Damir’s attention. “Alina’s got you by the balls, huh?”

“Assuming it’s Alina,” Damir added, and if looks could kill….

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

My brother wasn’t laughing now. The smug, stupid grin was off the bloody idiot’s face, and he raised a questioning brow at me.

Damir just smirked, tapping his cigarette against the glass ashtray. “I’m just saying, what if it’s not Alina that’s got him by…you know?”

I turned my head slowly, meeting his gaze. The table went quiet. The bloody bastard was of great value to me, but sometimes, he talked too much.

“Careful, Damir,” I murmured. “You’re starting to sound like a man who doesn’t value his tongue.”

The girls watched on expectantly, and with a gaze to kill, Damien flicked his wrist, silently ordering them to leave. The women scattered like leaves in the wind.

“He’s messing around, right? Damir is just talking like he always does. Is that not so, brother?”

The alarm in my brother’s head was going off; I could tell by the unsettled look in his eyes, but I leaned back in my chair, swirling the drink in my hand, feeling their stares burn into me.

“He is not.”

“Fuck. What the hell, Miron?” Damien ran a hand down the growing stubble on his chin. “Who is she?"

“His therapist.”

“Do you really want to fucking die, Damir?” I glared at the smirking bastard. My little brother was an inch away from killing me, and he was finding this funny.

Damien continued firing. “Her name?”

I narrowed my eyes at Damir, just in case he wanted to offer up himself on a platter again. “Hazel Sinclair.”

The details he required were necessary routine checks for when we were dealing with anyone or anything we were not already acquainted with, and Damien needed to know to confirm that I wasn’t mingling with an enemy.

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