Page 43 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

He strums his fingertip over my knuckles. “Ella, when are you going to learn? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing I wouldn’t give you. You deserve the world.”

I lower my gaze to the table because what am I supposed to say to that? He pours wine for both of us from a bottle in an ice bucket, and a moment later, a waiter appears, setting down a plate of sliced, raw fish before us. Dang it, he knows how much I love sushi, and I realize that he doesn’t care for it all that much. Another thing he’s doing just for me.

“I’m feeling extremely spoiled right now,” I say bluntly, because there’s no other way to put it. I’m spoiled. He spoils me. “What’s all of this about? Are we celebrating something?”

“I hope,” he says, and I just barely keep my jaw from dropping at the realization that he’s actually nervous. The way he flips his fork over and over in his hand, picking up his wine glass and setting it down without actually drinking it? Nervous. I’ve never seen him like this.

“What is it?” I prod, filing through the worst-case scenarios with record speed to find something that could make him nervous. Did someone in his family get hurt? Is there a hit out on us?

He takes a deep breath and sets the fork down with finality before meeting my eyes, and by now, my stomach is roiling with anxiety. “Ella, will you move in with me when we get back?”

Whatever I was expecting, that was not it. This is what he was nervous about? I don’t answer right away and he leans forward, tense and searching my face.

“I understand if it’s too soon—"

“It’s not,” I blurt out before he can think that my hesitance is about him. “It’s not too soon. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

“So,” he says, a cautious smile crinkling the corners of those green eyes, “Is that a yes?”

“Hmm,” I reply, pretending to consider, “stay in my rat-infested apartment all alone or move into an immaculate penthouse with an even more immaculate man? I’m going to need some time to consider.”

I count to three in my head before finishing, “Yup, think I’ll take the immaculate man.”

His smile is all the reward I’ll ever need in my life, the way it transforms his brooding face into pure, boyish joy.

“Thank fuck,” he says, finally spearing a piece of tuna with his fork and popping it into his mouth. “Even makes the sushi worth it.”

Dinner is superb. After the sushi, we enjoy squid and pork belly skewers, fried sea bream, and a dark chocolate mousse that hits my tongue like pure ambrosia. We finish the bottle of wine, and Anton pulls our chairs together, facing the ocean, before the waiter returns with a second. Once it’s opened, he dismisses the waiter, saying that’s all we’ll need for the night, and the man departs. We’re alone on the beach.

“This was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I tell him, twisting in my chair to face him because there’s one view better than the one over the ocean right now, and that’s the man beside me. “Did you know that you’re the sweetest man alive?”

He gives me a rueful grin and cups my cheek. “You’re the only person on this planet that would say that.”

I lean into his hand, then turn and kiss his palm. “They just don’t know you like I do.”

He slides his fingers into my hair and tugs me forward, capturing my lips with his; the heat is instant, flooding my body from head to toe. Every inch of me yearns for this man, comes alive for him.

His tongue strokes along mine, and I melt, sinking into his kiss. When his grip tightens in my hair, I moan into his mouth and hit the edge of my seat, our knees brushing as we fight to get closer. I run my hand up his leg and find him already hard and ready for me.

“Fuck, Ella,” he says when I wrap my hand around his cock over the fabric of his pants. Suddenly, there is way too much clothing between us.

Like he’s reading my mind, he pulls the top of my dress loose, exposing my breasts for a heartbeat before his mouth is there, flicking his tongue over one nipple and palming the other.

Now I twist my fingers into his hair, holding him there. “Right here?” I whimper because we’re completely exposed, even if we are the only ones on the beach.

“Right here.” His hand slips from my breast down my curves, then slides beneath my dress. “Unless you want to stop?”

He strokes along my entrance and up to my clit, drawing a gasp out of me. “No. Don’t stop, please. Definitely don’t stop.”

But I draw his hand away for a second to tug his shirt overhead, revealing the hard ridges of his stomach, the endless abs. His touch is light over my clit, but my fingernails scrape down his back, over the muscles there, digging in as he draws me closer to the edge. Teeth graze my nipple, and I arch for more.

When he sinks two fingers inside of me, I buck my hips in desperation. So close. He’s teasing me, denying me the pressureI need to come, drawing out my pleasure until it’s more than I can take.

“Anton,” I beg, panting and moaning with every thrust of his fingers, every brush of his thumb over my clit. “I need you.”

I fumble with his pants, the button taking way too long to pop open. Need is a burning, desperate thing inside of me, and when I finally free his cock, I moan at the sight of it. I’m that far gone.

“Come here.” He sounds as breathless as I do, and his eyelids flutter when I wrap my hand around his cock and stroke. “I need you wrapped around me right now.”

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