Page 172 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

She crosses her arms and steps towards me. “I’m not as useless as you seem to think I am.”

“Debatable,” I snap. “We spend all of our time either fighting or fucking.”

Her pouty mouth falls open. I watch the flush creep over her chest and into her cheeks.

“That’s not true,” she whispers.

I close the distance between us in a single stride. “That’s what we do, Belle. We fight and we fuck and then we do it all over again. Often at the same time.”

“Only because you never stop arguing,” she snaps. “Ever!”

“Says the woman who doesn’t even want to be here, but is still bickering about her imaginary place in the Bratva hierarchy anyway.”

Belle’s cheeks go red. “I’m only here because you drugged and kidnapped me. If you’re tired of me, then send me back home.”

“So you can starve yourself? Or pass out and tumble down the stairs? Or get attacked in an alley by your former boss?” I shake my head. “No, princess, I think I’ll keep you here.”

Belle grabs a fistful of my shirt and tries to bring me down to her level, but I don’t budge. Huffing, she stretches up onto her tiptoes. “You aren’t responsible for me. I’ve taken care of myself my whole life. I never had anyone looking out for me.”

“Ah, there it is.”

“What?” She looks dubious.

“The reason you’re so bad at recognizing when someone is taking care of you. Because no one has ever done it before.”

Her jaw is set, her eyes narrowed up at me. “Is that what you’re doing?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never met anyone more stubborn in my life.”

“Oh, really? Have you met you?” She’s not smiling, but there’s amusement in her eyes.

“Touché.”

Slowly, her fist unclenches. Her hand flattens on my chest and she lets loose a long sigh. “I’m tired of fighting, Nikolai.”

“Glad to hear it.” In one sweeping motion, I scoop her into my arms and press her back against the bookshelves. “Time for fucking, then.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but I catch her lips with mine. Instantly, she softens in my arms. After a moment of struggle, she kisses me back and arches her body into me.

Still, there’s remnants of the anger there. She claws at my shoulders and digs into my back with the heels of her feet. It’s lovemaking with violence seeping into the edges.

I slide my mouth along her jaw and down her neck. I can feel the pounding of her pulse against my lips.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she pants, scraping her fingernails down my neck.

I reach between us to undo her jeans. “I never apologized,” I remind her, sliding my hand beneath the soft material of her panties. I arch a brow. “And apparently, I don’t need to. You’re already soaked.”

“Shut up,” she says just before she grabs my face with both hands and kisses me again.

She slips her tongue in my mouth as I slide a finger into her. She clenches and then relaxes as she adjusts to me. When I drag my thumb up to circle her clit, she rips her mouth away and gasps.

“See how good it can be?” I whisper, adding a second finger to her warm heat. “You and me…”

“And your wife?”

I curl my fingers inside of her. It’s a miracle to watch her melt. To witness the stubborn, reckless little brat give herself over to my hands.

“Forget her,” I say. “She’s done. It’s over.”

---