Page 52 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
I don’t break my stare. “Say what you want. Hate me if it helps. But don’t question that I’ve been watching over you. Always. And I won’t stop.”
She looks away then, and I feel it again—that ache in my chest I don’t know what to do with.
Suddenly, she leans forward, and her lips brush mine—soft, hesitant—but it’s enough. Enough to undo something inside me.
I freeze, stunned for half a second. Then something in me snarls loose. I growl low in my throat and grab her waist, dragging her closer like she belongs there. Like she always has.
My mouth crashes into hers with a desperation I don’t bother to hide. The kiss is rougher now—hot, deep, possessive. I’m pouring everything I’ve been holding back into this. The frustration. The obsession. The way she’s tangled in my bloodstream and refuses to leave.
To my surprise, she doesn’t push me away. She kisses me back. Her hands grip my shirt, her fingers twisting in the fabric like she needs me to stay right there. And I do. God, I do.
But just as quickly as it begins, she pulls away.
Breathing hard. Eyes wide. Her lips red and trembling.
I don’t touch her. I don’t chase her mouth again. I just watch her, swallowing the urge to press forward. To take more.
“Don’t offer yourself to me if you’re not ready,” I say, my voice a low, strained growl. “I won’t ever take what isn’t freely given. No matter how much I want to.”
She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.
Just stares at me with this conflicted look—equal parts confusion, fear, and something else I can’t name.
I take a breath, steadying myself.
“You will be ready,” I add, softer this time. “Soon. Before you even realize it.”
I turn toward the door, my body still tight with restraint. I glance back once, taking in the sight of her—barefoot, wide-eyed, a little shaken, but still standing. Still mine.
“Stay inside,” I tell her. “No more wandering. The guards are doubling. No one’s getting near you. Not while I’m breathing.”
Then I step out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me with a quiet finality.
And for a second, I have to lean against the wall.
Because all I want to do is go back in.
And claim her completely.
Chapter 11 – Jennie
I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the same pattern of wood and plaster I’ve memorized for days now. The weight of silence wraps around me like chains—no word from Logan, no updates from Adrian. I’ve asked, pleaded, demanded…and every time, all I get is a cold, clipped “He’s safe.”
But what does safe even mean in Adrian’s world?
My phone is still missing. My laptop too. I’m cut off from the world, breathing in someone else’s air, wearing clothes someone else picked out. I feel like I’m slowly disappearing.
The door opens, quietly. I don’t bother to look. I know it’s him. His presence sinks into the room, shifting the atmosphere like a coming storm.
I hear it—a soft thud on the bed beside me.
When I finally sit up, there’s a box. A black velvet box, elegant and expensive, the kind of thing that doesn’t belong in my hands.
Adrian stands across the room, still dressed in black from head to toe, as if even color has no right to live in his world.
I stare at the box like it’s something poisonous.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
