Page 52 of Bratva Prisoner
Alyssa peers over the edge of the container, and I can see her figuring out distances and angles. The descent is always harder than the ascent, especially when adrenaline starts wearing off.
“Jump,” I call up to her. “I’ll catch you.”
She looks down at me like I’ve suggested she sprout wings and fly. “Are you insane?”
“Trust me. Just like you asked me to trust you.”
For a moment, she seems to debate with herself. Then she sits on the edge of the container, swings her legs over, and pushes off into space.
My heart stops as she careens toward me, but my body moves on instinct. I position myself underneath her with my arms extended and somehow manage to catch her without either of us ending up in a heap on the concrete floor. The impact knocks the breath out of both of us, but we’re standing, we’re intact, and she’s grinning like she just conquered Mount Everest.
“That was incredible,” she breathes. Her face is flushed with triumph and exertion.
“That was terrifying.”
“But it worked, didn’t it? Look.” She gestures toward the container, which is now being smoothly loaded onto its designated truck. “Problem solved.”
My employees around us nod their approval, and I catch more than one admiring glance directed at the woman in my arms. She’s earned their respect in a way that money and threats never could—through competence and courage.
“You’re amazing,” I tell her, meaning every word.
“I’m useful,” she corrects, but the pride in her voice is unmistakable.
The way she looks right now—hair mussed, cheeks pink, eyes bright with accomplishment—does things to my self-control that I’m not prepared to think too hard about. She’s beautiful on a normal day, but right now, she’s absolutely radiant.
“Come with me,” I say before taking her hand and leading her away from the crowd of onlookers.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere private.”
I guide her to a storage area behind the main warehouse, a quiet space filled with empty crates and shipping supplies. The moment we’re alone, I pin her against the nearest wall and capture her mouth with mine.
She tastes like coffee and adrenaline and something uniquely hers that makes my head spin. Her lips part, welcoming the invasion of my tongue, and the small sound she makes in the back of her throat nearly makes me lose it right here and now.
“Maksim,” she gasps against my mouth.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” I mumble as I trail kisses along her jaw. “Watching you up there, so fearless and capable…”
My hands roam her body, gliding over the curves I’ve memorized but can’t seem to get enough of. When I cup her breast through her shirt, she arches into my touch with a moan that goes straight to my cock.
“You’re incredible,” I tell her between kisses. “So fucking incredible.”
Her own hands aren’t idle—they tangle in my hair, cling to my shoulders, and explore the planes of my chest through my shirt. When she rocks her hips against mine, I groan and press her harder against the wall.
“I want you,” she whispers, and the words nearly shatter what’s left of my restraint.
“Alyssa…”
“Right here. Right now. I don’t care where we are.”
The desperation in her voice matches my own, but it also triggers a warning bell in the back of my mind. This morning, she told me last night was a mistake. This morning, she was ready to run rather than face what’s between us.
“No,” I reply, though it might be the hardest word I’ve ever spoken.
“No?” She blinks up at me as she slides her tongue over her lips, which are swollen from my kisses.
“Not like this. Not when you’re high on adrenaline and likely to regret it later.”
