Page 30 of Bratva's Stolen Bride
My heartbeat thuds heavily, and I’m nervous for a second as I reach above her head and undo the binding, releasing her wrists. I half expect her to move away, but she lets her arms fall, and when I pull her with me as I lie back, she comes without hesitation snuggling onto my chest when I urge her. She’s sticky with my seed, and her cream, and I wouldn’t have her any other way. I wrap my arms around her.
“We’ve wrecked your sofa,” she says after a moment.
“Improved.” I drop a kiss on the top of her head, and a tightness in my heart eases. It’s been there for so long I didn’t even realise it could dissolve. I thought that painful knot was a twisted part of who I am. What I’ve done.
But no. All the violence and rage are gone. All that’s left is a need to protect this girl.
“With sea water and sand and…” She huffs with embarrassment.
“I’ll get you another one, and make a mess of that sofa too.” My mouth quirks up into a contented
smile.
There’s a pause as we both acknowledge that I’m talking about the future with a presumption that probably isn’t justified given I kidnapped her mere hours ago.
All the reasons this is doomed scroll through my head.
She’s my son’s girlfriend. She’s half my age. I abducted her. Her consent in this has been dubious at best. I’ve always been alone, I’ve never loved anyone, not even my own son. I don’t know anything about caring for another person. I’m not a sadist like Ivan, but I’m far from being a good man.
She lives in Richmond, whose Kingpin is part of the London mafia syndicate, who aren’t exactly friends of mine. In fact, they’re my rivals and enemies, as well as the sort of idiots to get involved with a kidnapping that has nothing to do with them. Except that living in Richmond, Paytonistheir business. And her sister, too.
Fuck. A problem for tomorrow.
I breathe in the scent of her hair, then adjust us so I can push to my feet with her in my arms, bridal style, with one arm beneath her knees. She doesn’t object when I take her to the shower, strip her naked, and wash every inch of her. Neither of us say anything when she’s looking up into my face and I let my fingers trail down between her legs.
This time, I don’t tease. And when her little hands find my throbbing cock—apparently my body thinks I’m a teenager again—it can’t last long. I have to brace against the tiles because the feeling of her is too good.
Jet lag catches up with us both as we dry off from the shower, and we collapse into bed, her tucked into my chest, my arm over her waist. Too tired to talk about what the morning might bring.
13
PAYTON
I wake being tugged between utter contentment, and heavy guilt.
Feliks is holding me to him, his chest to my back, us both lying on our sides. He breathes slow and even, and though you could easily interpret the way his arm is snug on my waist as imprisoning, it just feels protective. And last night, my god. Thinking about yesterday makes me all squishy inside. Between my legs heats.
I’ve never experienced being really wanted. The way he edged me, but also covered me with sunscreen to protect me.
Being chased. I didn’t know I’d love that either.
And this beach and house that feels more like home than anywhere I’ve ever lived, his honesty on the plane, and yeah mind-blowing orgasms don’t hurt. Of course they don’t.
But weighted against that is that my arrogant arsehole kidnapper won’t let me call my sister, and Hayley will be going nuts with worry.
Dawn is just breaking out of the window, but because of the time difference, I’m awake. And perhaps being more used to making the trip, Feliks is still asleep.
I think of my phone on that top shelf in the lounge.
Could I? Dare I? I have to. After losing Taylor, Hayley will be distraught over me going missing.
I shift forward, and Feliks’ grip on my waist tightens. That’s not romantic, I try to tell myself. It’s not sweet.
Smoothing my hand over his forearm, I lift it off, and he grumbles in his sleep.
“I’m just going to the loo,” I whisper the lie as I creep out of his protective embrace and the light blanket.
He growls again, but when I tuck the covers over his shoulders, he accepts it, and his eyes remain closed, long lashes fanning his cheek.
