Page 24 of Cruel Russian Pakhan
Then he moved behind me to cuff my wrists again. He gently stroked my arm, and I felt my nipples harden at his touch, yearning for his hands. I had to suppress the shiver thatrolled down my spine at the thought. I needed to control myself, because if Lev saw how I was reacting to his touch when all he was doing was being kind, he might think that I'm desperate.
Luckily, he didn't move from behind me as I began to work on escaping. It took longer that time because I couldn't see what I was doing, but eventually, the cuffs fell to the ground, and I was free.
I rose to my feet while rubbing my wrists. “What if they use the expensive kind?” I asked quietly. “What if I can’t get out?”
My gaze dropped to the cuffs on the ground before looking at Lev once again.
Without hesitation, Lev stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. “Then every minute you’re cuffed, focus on me, and the fact that I’m on my way. I’ll get you out,” he murmured. “I’ll always come for you.”
My heart slammed against my ribs at the promise in his voice. I was so caught up in his words, I didn’t feel it at first, but now that they’d faded, I did. With his body pressed to mine, there it was: his undeniable hardness against me.
That was the moment it hit me; Lev wanted me. He wasn't just touching me for reassurance.
Lev. Wanted. Me.
I bit my lip, a soft sound rising in my throat before I could stop it.
Because I wanted him, too.
Chapter 9 - Lev
When that soft moan slipped from Vera’s lips, I tried to hold back, but I couldn’t. I crushed my mouth to hers, my arm tightening around her waist like I could mold her into me to make us one.
The moment her lips parted and her tongue shyly met mine, relief flooded me. I’d noticed her tight nipples beneath her gym shirt when she stood to face me, but I told myself it was the AC. Now, I knew better.
Her hands didn’t curl around my neck or pull me in. They stayed flat against my chest, like she didn’t know what to do with them, or was too afraid to act on what she wanted.
Her taste was addictive; sweet, with a trace of mint from her toothpaste. The more I tasted her, the more I wanted her. My hands slid down to gently cup her ass, and she moaned, pressing her hips into me.
Before I knew what I was doing, I lifted her into my arms. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I pressed her against the wall. My hardened length pressed between her legs, and a throaty moan passed her lips, making me tighten my hold on her.
Not only did I feel the heat from her, but I felt the dampness through her leggings as well.
Fuck!
I wanted to take her right there, throw her onto the gym floor and have my way with her. I wanted to drag more moans out of her and watch her chest heave from a different kind of workout. One where my name would be on the tip of her tongue as I thrusted into her warmth.
But the more I kissed her, the more I felt it. She wasn't ready. She wasn't attempting to deepen the kiss. As much as I wanted Vera, a part of me wanted her to want me back.
Her kisses were gentle, yet unsure. A woman with experience, who wanted more, would've deepened the kiss, pulled me into her, taken what she craved. But not Vera. And that shocked me. The most defiant woman I knew was suddenly uncertain, and hesitant. Her kiss felt almost…innocent. And that alone was enough to stop me.
Reluctantly, I pulled away, my chest heaving. Her breaths came just as ragged, lips swollen and parted like she hadn’t realized the kiss had ended. And damn, if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, standing there with her blue eyes, usually icy, glazed over with arousal, staring at me like I’d stolen her last breath. I almost pulled her back in.
“Go get ready for breakfast,” I said, huskily. “I’ll meet you in the dining room.”
She blinked, like she was processing the words. Then her expression shifted. She didn’t hide her disappointment, just stepped back, squared her shoulders, and walked out without looking back.
That stung more than it should’ve.
She probably felt used. And even though she showed how disappointed she was, Vera’s pride wouldn’t let her show how much me pushing her away hurt her a second time.
God, I felt like an asshole.
Falling for her wasn’t part of the plan.
But everything about her is an enigma. Bratva daughters were raised to be elegant, polished, and obedient. They weregroomed to be assets. A tool for political and social leverage: marriage, alliances, and appearances.
Vera was none of that.
