Page 82 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

Phoenix moves towards me and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Elyssa…”

“Before, when we were at the beach…” I whisper. “When I saw Leona with him, I felt so jealous. I kept thinking that I should be the one with him, taking care of him. And now? Now, I don’t care about that at all. I don’t care who raises him just so long as he gets to grow up to be a man and live a long, full life. A happy life. A free life.”

Once again, Phoenix says nothing. He offers no comfort. No reassurance. The silence feels ominous.

“We will get him back, won’t we?” I ask, turning to him and searching his face for a promise.

“I will try.”

“‘Try’ isn’t not good enough.”

He shakes his head and walks away from me so abruptly that I almost tip forward. When he reaches the end of the room, he veers around and I recoil at the stark and terrifying expression on his face.

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” he seethes at me. “But I won’t give you false hope and I won’t pretend as though Astra Tyrannis is an enemy that can be fought easily. I’ve made that mistake once before. I lost a wife and a son because of my arrogance. Because of my pride. You want me to swear to you that I’ll get Theo back? Well, I won’t do it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try like fucking hell to do everything in my power to make it happen.”

His fists are clenched, his body taut with stress. With grief that’s burrowed its way deep into his bones.

“Theo’s your son, you know,” I whisper. “I don’t need a paternity test to be certain of that.”

New anger flashes across Phoenix’s eyes. He looks positively murderous as he crosses the space between us to stand in front of me like a demi-god wreathed in fire.

“You think I’ll try harder to save him if I believe he’s mine?” he demands. “Is that it?”

“I… I…”

“Well, you’re wrong about that,” he growls, before I can formulate a response. “I’d try just as hard to save him even if he wasn’t.”

“You would?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he’syourson.”

Long seconds of silence follows his admission. I feel as though I’m choking.

Then the sob breaks out from my throat, through my lips. I move towards him at the same time he moves towards me.

His hands land on either side of my face, pulling me in against him. Our lips smash together and I feel the heat of our shared turmoil crash against one another.

I don’t notice him taking off my clothes.

I don’t notice when he takes his off, either.

All I know is that I practically blink and we’re naked and clawing at each other desperately, hungrily. Two drowning people each treating the other like the last breath of air they’ll ever have.

He backs me up against the bed and then pushes me down against the mattress. It catches me easily and before I can catch my breath, Phoenix falls over me, his body covering mine.

He bites, sucks, teases, tempts. Pain and pleasure intermingle until I lose all sense of where I am. The desperation stays, though. I know it’s too much to ask that I be spared that. But in this case, I don’t want to forget.

Phoenix rams into me without warning. I’m not expecting the aggressiveness of his entry, but I revel in it. My thighs tighten around his hips as he starts slamming into me, each thrust coming faster than the next.

When I grip his shoulders, he pulls me off him and pins my hands back against the bed on either side of my face.

“Stay right there,” he orders. “Don’t fucking move.”

I try to obey but I can’t help twitching as the orgasm heats up in me and sweat beads between us. The moment it crashes down on me, I feel him release, too.

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