Page 66 of Bratva Prisoner
I turn in his arms, the pistol forgotten as I look up into his burning blue eyes. The weapon clatters to the floor, but neither of us pays attention to it.
“Yes, I do. I want you to touch me, Maksim. I want you to make me feel the way you did that night at the hotel. Like the night we met at the club.”
“You said that was a mistake.”
“I was scared,” I explain breathlessly. “I’m not scared anymore.”
He searches my face for any sign of doubt, and whatever he sees there must convince him that I mean what I’m saying because his hands come up to frame my face. “Only if you’re sure, kitten.”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Then tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”
The command in his voice makes heat flood through me, and I know that whatever happens next will change everything between us forever.
“Touch me,” I breathe. “Please, Maksim. I need you to touch me.”
Chapter 19 - Maksim
The moment Alyssa asks me to touch her, every other thought in my head evaporates like smoke.
Her green eyes burn with a need that matches my own, and the way she breathes my name makes something primal wake up inside me. The shooting range disappears around us, leaving nothing but her flushed face and the sound of our breathing.
“Are you absolutely certain?” I ask with my hands still framing her face as I search for any hint of doubt.
“Stop asking me that,” she whispers as she rises on her toes to close the distance between us. “I want this. I want you.”
My mouth crashes down on hers with all the hunger I’ve been suppressing for weeks. She tastes like mint and desire and something uniquely hers that drives me completely insane. When her tongue slides against mine, I groan and press her back against the nearest wall.
“Fuck, Alyssa,” I breathe against her lips. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” she challenges, and her fingers are already working at the buttons of my shirt.
I capture her hands in mine to stop their movement. “Not here. Not in a basement that smells like gunpowder and oil.”
“Then where?”
“My room—where I can take my time with you properly.”
She nods eagerly, and I lead her upstairs, feeling like a giddy teenager. The walk to my bedroom feels like the longestjourney of my life, and every step stretches into eternity while need burns through my veins.
The moment we’re inside with the door locked behind us, she’s in my arms again. This time, I don’t hold back. I lift her against me as I carry her to the bed, and she wraps her legs around my waist. The heat from her core pressed against me, nearly undoing my resolve to go slow.
My hands find the hem of her shirt, and she helps me pull it over her head. The sight of her in nothing but a lace bra makes my mouth go dry with want.
“You’re perfect,” I tell her, tracing the curve of her collarbone with my fingertips.
“I’m not perfect. I’m just desperate for you to stop talking and start touching.”
Her bluntness makes me laugh despite the desire coursing through me. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea.”
I lean down to press kisses along her throat, tasting the salt of her skin and breathing in her pheromones. When I reach the hollow at the base of her neck, she arches toward me with a soft gasp.
“More,” she whispers.
“Patience, kitten. We have all night.”
