Page 18 of Bratva's Stolen Bride
And. Oof. Uh. This. Bikini. I thought it had a decent amount of coverage, but the triangles are miniature. Really, really, small. Compared to his hands, which cover my entire breast easily.
He smooths his fingers up and over my neck, stopping on my racing pulse. He’s got a delicate touch for a man so big.
And when he unfolds himself and pushes up to his full height and dabs sunscreen on my face, I’m so conflicted.
I know he’s seen how I’m responding to him, how I want him, but he’s being utterly controlled. Far more appropriate than you could expect from a mafia boss, when I’m his captive.
I keep forgetting that.
“Close your eyes,” he rumbles.
My heart lurches.
“What are you going to do?” I blurt out.
He takes a step closer, so I can feel the heat of his much larger body. Taking my chin in his forefinger and thumb, he holds me immobile.
“Whatever I want, Payton.”
A shudder of desire racks me from head to toe.
“It’s only you and me here, and you being a little brat won’t change that you aren’t just in my power. You’re in my kingdom. You can’t run, or hide, or escape. You’re my prisoner, and I can do anything I like to you.”
Please do.
“You belong to me, now, lisichka.”
Yes.
“You will do what I tell you, sooner or later. You have no choice.”
Why is that so hot?
“So. Close.” His voice goes dark and smoky. “Your. Eyes.”
9
PAYTON
Those fluttery-soft butterflies return to my belly as I let my eyelids fall.
“That’s my good girl,” he croons.
There’s a wet noise, and he exhales and releases my chin.
Because of the bright sunlight coming through the windows, it’s not black behind my eyelids. There are blotches of pink and orange. But there isn’t what I want to see, which is Feliks.
The sound of the air conditioning unit and the call of birds outside is louder, and my skin prickles with apprehension.
I sway, and catch another scent, beneath the suncream’s floral notes with a metallic tang, there’s a musky note that’s deeper, and almost woody.
Feliks.
He hasn’t touched me since I closed my eyes, but when I bite my lip, he chuckles softly.
My nipples have pebbled. I know it. Not knowing where he’s looking, or if he’s even watching me, makes this unbearable. The moment stretches out, and I wonder if he somehow moved away and left me like this, craving him, so horny, and needing… Something. Him. I haven’t done enough with other men—boys—to be sure what I’m on the edge of.
I gasp as his hand clasps my jaw, and then I feel his fingers on my other cheek, over my eyebrow, down the side of my face and over my brow.
