Page 16 of Bratva's Stolen Bride
8
PAYTON
“It’s safe now, lisichka, you can come in,” he calls after a minute.
Nervously, I peer around the doorway, and nearly scream again.
Because, yes, technically he’s right. But he is casually doing up the laces at the front of a pair of board shorts and I am not prepared for the sight of him half naked.
He’s lined with tattoos, all over his chest and upper arms. Beneath the black ink and hair, he’s in amazing shape. His biceps are defined, and his shoulders are wide so his whole chest tapers to his waist. His belly is flat, with a six pack, and his hips topped with a “V” of muscle.
He’s so different to me. His hair, for one. I’ve never thought about a man’s nipples, but his penny-like disks surrounded by scattered dark hair make me want to run my lips over it.
And the way a teasing trail of hair leads down to the line of his shorts, low on his hips….
Ooof.
“There’s a suitcase of clothes for you.” He nods at the space under a window.
“Thanks,” I say, still struggling to look away from him.
I pause before I open the case, and I’m glad I’m braced, because the first thing I see is a white dress. A stunning, white dress that’s floor length, and obviously intended for a bride.
“Uh, I think there’s been a mistake.” I finger the dress, and can’t help but lift it out and hold it in front of me, turning to Feliks.
He pauses. “A misunderstanding, perhaps. But it will fit, yes? Not a mistake.”
My brow furrows in confusion.
“I’ll leave you to get changed to swim,” he continues, barely looking up.“I’ll be in the lounge.”
Under the dress, I find shorts, T-shirts, white cotton knickers, and sundresses that are perfect for throwing on over a bikini. It’s all tagged and pristine, and there’s even some toiletries.
And two bikinis, but no one-piece that I’d usually go for swimming. I dither a bit, before choosing the blue bikini with tie sides. I’m self-conscious as I check myself in the mirrored doors of the wardrobe. I swim a lot, so this should be normal, but the thought of Feliks’ eyes on me is different.
I wrap a soft turquoise sarong around me, leave my clothes in a neat pile, and go out to find Feliks.
“Did you put on sunscreen?” he asks without looking up when I enter the lounge. He’s reclined on a sofa with a laptop before him.
“No.” I scuff my bare feet. I hadn’t even thought of that, but obviously I need it, or I’ll burn to a crisp within minutes. Unlike Feliks, who is gorgeously tanned.
“Well.” He gestures at the table, where there’s a bottle of sunscreen. Then he glances up, and the impact of him seeing me partly revealed under the sarong is gratifying to say the least. His pupils dilate as he takes me in.
I bite my lip.Focus on the important points, not the way he makes you feel, Payton.He kidnapped you.
“Unless you need Daddy to help you,” he says, and I think it’s supposed to be ironic, but his voice is hoarse, and I respond as though it’s deadly serious.
I whimper. It’s undeniably a pathetic, needy little sound.
Yes. I need that. Very much.
I’m not too proud to admit that Ivan pursuing me and giving me gifts was why I gave in and agreed to be his girlfriend. I’m only human. I want some comfort in my life, and being able to help my sisters felt good. But Feliks offering—even as a joke—to give tender and personal care? Loving, like a daddy? Yeah. That’s worth a thousand necklaces I could sell. That’s something I could fall for.
I’m pinned in place by my own stupid desires as Feliks eyes me, then deliberately sets aside his laptop and, grabbing the sunscreen, paces over to me.
I’m super aware of how tall and big he is compared to me. How he could overpower me easily, and we’re all alone on this island, and though it should scare me, it doesn’t. It’s… Hot. Really, really, hot.
He uncaps the sunscreen and squirts a generous amount into his palm, then sets it aside and rubs his hands together. The sound is lewd and unmistakably suggestive. That white cream contrasts to his black-tattooed fingers and the slickness mirrors what’s between my legs.
