Page 63 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva
Her lips quirked as she placed her own drink gently on the nightstand. “There are a lot of things you don’t know I can do yet.”
What she said wasn’t bad, but something about it threw me off just enough to make my jaw tense.
She kissed me before I could say a word, her fingers raking through my hair. Her lips claimed mine passionately, her hands trailing down my throat before her arm curled around my neck.
I let her do whatever she wanted, reveling in the way her taste drowned me.
My grip tightened, my body responding before my thoughts could catch up. But the prickling sensation against the back of my neck did not stop. The feeling that something was wrong was stronger.
This was not her usual fire.
Her kiss was more consuming, her waist grinding against my erection. She moaned into my mouth as I deepened our kiss and wrapped her arms around my neck.
Despite my instincts warning that something was wrong, everything else was perfectly normal until my body started to feel heavier than usual.
I tore my eyes open and immediately felt my vision start to blur. The room spun around me in circles, the glass in my palm suddenly feeling too heavy.
My breath became shallow, labored, as if my body was starting to give out on me even when my mind was still sharp.
Something was wrong.
The awareness struck me like a lightning bolt.
I snapped my eyes to her. She was still on my lap, her weight against me, her warm skin pressed against mine.
Her eyes met mine, and there was a flicker of something like guilt and fear in her gaze as she bit her lip. She didn’t move or say a word; she just looked at me as if she were unsure what to do now.
She’d done this. She’d done whatever was wrong with me.
“What have you done?” I growled.
My breathing was harder now, shallower than before. My legs were numb, my head spinning. The effect of whatever she gave me was getting worse by the second.
I tried to stand, to push myself up, to heave her off me and grab my phone to call Kirill, but I couldn’t get my fucking legs or hands to cooperate. My body gave way instead, joints releasing, like strings cut from the inside out.
Zoella slipped off my lap, gasping and backing away from me as if I still had the energy to reach for her.
“You left me no choice,” she said. “I didn’t want to do this, but there was no other way.”
Her voice was soft. Cracked. Barely audible over the sound of blood roaring in my ears.
Those words she said hit harder than the cocktail burning through my bloodstream. It was worse than the betrayal itself.
My heart lurched in my throat.
I clutched the edge of the bed, dragging my body up like it wasn’t mine anymore, but I couldn’t fucking move no matter what I did. My jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
I looked up at her. “You could have told me. Whatever the problem was, you could have said it, and I would have helped you with whatever you wanted.”
“No, you couldn’t have. You forced me into all of this. You and your family—” She paused, her lips parting and her chest heaving heavily. “There was no other way.”
There was this look in her eyes; it wasn’t hatred or rage. It was remorseful, as if she felt guilty for what she did to me. And maybe she did because that would mean she didn’t deceive me for the fun of it.
I managed to raise myself from the bed but stumbled forward a step. My foot caught on the carpet, and my knees buckled. I landed hard, first on one side, and then all the way over. My shoulder braced against the edge of the nightstand as I hit the ground.
The glass toppled off, shattering on the floor beside me.
My hands dug into the rug, dragging me half a foot forward. My breathing wheezed with each useless movement I tried to make.
