Page 169 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

It smells like him.

I turn around slowly. Phoenix is standing by the bathroom door, regarding me with an unknowable gaze. I want to ask him what he’s thinking, but I’m not confident I’ll get an answer. I’m not confident that words exist for what’s going through his mind right now.

He walks forward and teases his suit jacket off me. I shiver when the fabric comes free from my skin, but it has nothing to do with the cold. His eyes drop to my breasts and linger there for a long time.

He discards his coat in the hamper thrown to the side. Then he strips down himself. Slowly and smoothly. Undoes his belt and tosses it over his shoulder. Unbuttons and unzips his pants and steps out of them.

Shivering and moving on pure autopilot, I slip off my panties and cast them to the side. He nods like I did precisely what he wanted. He doesn’t say anything but I can almost hear the thought running through his head:Good girl.

He strips off his boxers. I try to avoid looking at his cock but my eyes have a mind of their own. And once I take one look, I can’t stop. He’s half-erect already. Thick and powerful, like a weapon between his legs.

I look up at him through my eyelashes. “Phoenix?”

“Yes?”

“I want… I want you to touch me. I want you to make me feel safe.”

He doesn’t so much as flinch. All the reaction is contained to his eyes. I see the desire in them.

He reaches out and rests his hand against my neck. Then he moves down until he’s fondling my breast.

I close my eyes, marveling in the sensation of his touch. It’s been so long… As though I’ve been holding my breath for a year, and I’m finally allowed to release it.

Is this what I’ve been waiting for?

Not absolution.

Not vindication.

But… him?

I take a clumsy step forward, moving so fast that I step on his toes. He doesn’t seem to notice or care, and I take my cue and push myself up to reach my lips to his.

When our lips come together, there’s a strange harmony that spreads through my body. I wonder if I’m the only one feeling it.

Probably. But in this moment, I don’t care.

I want him. Even if I have to face the consequences later, I want him now.

When he parts my lips with his tongue, I moan into his mouth, inviting him in. His hands run down my back and land on my ass. In one smooth move, he grips my ass cheeks and lifts me up so that I’m straddling his waist.

Then he walks me into his shower. He doesn’t put me down, though. He just pins me up against the cool, tiled wall. I gasp as the prick of chill claws at my back. It doesn’t last long. Moments later, the heat of his kiss consumes me.

His cock is pressed against my thigh, and I moan again, aching to touch him there. It’s strange—he’s the father of my child. He’s been inside me. He’s changed my life in so many ways. And yet there are still so many firsts we haven’t crossed yet. I’ve never truly touched him between the legs before. I’ve never kissed him quite like this—hungry and desperate and eager for more.

But as those firsts fall away one by one, so do the last remnants of my old life. The last ripped pieces of the veil I was born with.

There was a lot I was told was right and appropriate and acceptable behavior for a girl like me. I’m only just starting to realize that I was force-fed a book of arbitrary rules that don’t apply to the real world.

It’s time to write my own rules.

I slide my hand down between us and wrap it around his massive shaft. I’m clumsy and inexperienced but I recognize a certain instinct that I didn’t realize I’ve always had.

A hunger that I was always told to hide.

A desire that I was told to be ashamed of.

A wantonness I was told to bury down and forget.

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