Page 43 of Bratva Boss's Secret Baby

“But you did protect them. You fought back, you got away, and you’re both safe now.”

“Because you showed up. If you hadn’t?—”

“But I did.” His thumb traces across my cheekbone, wiping away tears I didn’t realize had started falling. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The promise should terrify me. Three weeks ago, I would have seen it as a threat to my independence. But sitting here in the dark, still shaking from the terror of my subconscious, it feels like the first real safety I’ve known in years.

“Will you stay?” The request slips out before I can stop it. “Just until I fall asleep again?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

I expect him to pull up a chair or settle into the sitting area across the room. Instead, he moves around to the other side of the bed and lies down beside me, fully clothed on top of the covers. His arms come around me without hesitation, pulling me against his chest like he’s done this a hundred times before.

“Better?” he murmurs against my hair.

I nod, already feeling the panic start to subside. His heartbeat is steady under my ear, his body warm and solid against mine. For the first time since arriving at the estate, I feel truly safe.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“For what?”

“For not making me feel weak for needing this.”

His arms tighten around me. “Needing comfort doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

We lie together in the dark, and gradually my breathing slows to match his. The terror fades, replaced by a different kind of intensity. I’m acutely aware of every point where our bodies touch, every breath he takes, every subtle shift in his position. The attraction I’ve been trying to suppress comes flooding back, stronger than ever.

When I tilt my head up to look at him, his eyes are already on my face. In the dim light filtering through the curtains, he looks younger, less guarded, like the man I glimpsed during those four days at the safehouse before everything became complicated.

“Nikandr,” I whisper, not sure what I’m asking.

“I know.” His voice is rough with the same want I’m feeling. “I know.”

I don’t remember making the conscious decision to kiss him. One moment we’re looking at each other in the darkness, and the next my mouth is on his, desperate and searching and unable to hold back anymore. All the longing I’ve been trying to suppress, all the attraction I’ve been denying, pours out in that single contact.

When he kisses me back, it’s with everything he’s been holding in too. His hand tangles in my hair, his mouth moves against mine with a hunger that makes my entire body come alive. This isn’t the careful kiss of someone who’s being polite. This is raw need, desperate want, the kind of passion that burns away every rational thought.

I forget about the pregnancy, the complicated circumstances that brought us together, and all the reasons this is a terrible idea. All I can think about is the way he tastes, the way his hands feel on my skin, the way my body responds to his touch like it’s been waiting for this moment since the day I left the safehouse.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, and I can see the conflict in his eyes, want warring with concern, while desire fights against his protective instincts.

“Sabrina…” I press my fingers to his lips.

“Don’t,” I whisper. “Don’t think about all the reasons we shouldn’t. Not tonight.”

He captures my hand and presses a kiss to my palm, sending heat shooting through my entire body. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering with words, I kiss him again, pouring every ounce of certainty I possess into the contact. This time when heresponds, there’s no hesitation or holding back. It’s just pure, overwhelming need that threatens to consume us both.

16

Nikandr

When Sabrina kisses me with everything she’s been holding back, something inside my chest breaks open. All the careful control I’ve maintained since bringing her here dissolves under the desperate hunger of her mouth against mine. She tastes like hope and danger and everything I’ve been trying not to want.

I should stop this, pull away, and remind us both of all the reasons this complicates an already impossible situation. Yet when her fingers tangle in my hair, and she makes that soft sound of need against my lips, rational thought abandons me entirely. “Sabrina,” I say against her mouth, her name coming out like a prayer.

“Please,” she whispers back, and the single word undoes me completely.

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