Page 23 of A Bride for the Bratva Boss
I walk to him. Each step is terrifying, thrilling and dizzying. He rises from the couch and step toward me.
We stop a foot apart. The energy between us thrums like a live wire.
“I want you,” I tell him. “I wanted you before, but I didn’t know what to do. It frightened me how much I wanted you.”
His chest rises sharply. “You never have to be afraid of me. I will never hurt you.”
“I know,” I say, looking into his clear blue eyes so he can see the truth of my words.
He steps closer, but still doesn’t touch me. The heat from his body sears my skin. “Tell me what you want,” he growls.
“You,” I breathe. “I want you to touch me. I want you to… be with me. For real.”
His eyes shut for a moment, like he’s praying or cursing or both. Then he cups my face with both hands, thumbs brushing my cheeks.
“Liza.” His tone dark. “I need you to understand something. I won’t take you like a boy would take his girlfriend. I take you as my wife.”
My breath rushes out of me. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means, I take you like you’re mine. Like I own you.”
The heat of the words drenches my pussy more and I grab on to his bicep to keep standing. “Okay,” I whisper.
His forehead rests against mine. “You want my touch.”
It’s not a question, but I still answer. “Yes.”
“You want me to take you to bed.”
“Yes.”
“You want my cock,” he murmurs against my lips, “to be the first to fuck you.”
My stomach flips. Heat coils low in my belly, warm and powerful. “Yes,” I whisper.
He groans softly. “Say it,” he demands, he’s voice hungry and pained. “Say you want my cock to be the first to fill your pussy.”
I have to swallow several times before I can get the words out. “I want my first time to be with you.”
He grabs a nipple through my shirt. “Those are not the words I told you to say.” He twists his fingers, just a little.
I sway toward him, wanting more of his touch. Wanting more of the pleasure that borders on pain. “I want your cock,” I whisper in his ear, “to fill my pussy with hot cum.”
He growls and then picks me up as if I weigh nothing, charging up the stairs.
I bounce as he drops me on the bed. Danyl leans over me, his hot gaze roaming over my body.
His hands hover near my waist but don’t touch, like he’s desperate but holding himself back for me.
“You tell me if you’re scared,” he murmurs. “Because I won’t be able to hold back.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “But I still want you.”
Some of the tension in his shoulders releases, just a little.
“Good,” he whispers. “A wife should want her husband.” He touches my cheek with the softest brush of his fingers. His thumb strokes my jaw, down my neck, and I shiver. His touch is careful but reverent, like he’s learning me one inch at a time.
He bends down to kiss me, slow and deep. This is different from the hungry kiss in the kitchen. This is deliberate, sensual, exploring. His lips move against mine with quiet devotion, coaxing my breath from me.
