Page 69 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

She gives an exasperated sigh. “That’s not true. I’ve been set back a lot.”

“Delayed? Yes.” I lift my head so I can look at her. “Knocked down? Absolutely.” I run my thumb over her chin, knowing precisely what it does to her. “But defeated? Never.”

“It doesn’t always feel that way.”

I frown. “That’s because I stifle you. But I can’t force you to return to the old Liya.”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything.”

I grip her chin lightly but with enough force to prove my command of her. “You’re right. There’s a balance somewhere between the old and the new.”

“Pavel…” She shivers when I slide my thumb into her mouth.

This time, I don’t bother hiding my pleased grin. It’s arousing to see her response to me, to know that a simple touch can utterly devastate her.

And it’s a power I know not to abuse.

“If you can find that balance,” I whisper while retracting my thumb slowly. “Then so can I.”

Her eyelids flutter and then those amber pools come into view, glimmering like two shots of honey. She’s glowing again with the kind of admiration that I can only describe as intoxicating. When she sits up, I meet her the rest of the way, sealing what I’ve stated with a kiss.

She massages my back, sliding the blanket down to reveal more of my flesh. She’s undoing bricks I’ve layered in place to guard myself against emotion, to keep intruders from reaching my heart.

Yet in a few short weeks, she’s managed to tear down every wall I’ve ever built.

The impressions she leaves behind are forever seared into my skin. If she were ever to leave—whether it would be the earth or this marriage—her prints would remain on my heart.

And her departure is something I can’t allow.

Though my possessiveness usually makes me ravenous, I feel more like I’ve been split open. It’s like a wound has formed in my chest and gapes wide like an unending smile. When her fingers massage my shoulders and drop to my chest, I notice how wild my heartbeat feels, how cataclysmic her touch is to my health.

It’s not something I can live without.

Ever.

I nuzzle into her neck while curling her under my wing. She fits beautifully into my side and nestles one leg between mine while shucking the other over my thigh. We’re tangled in ways that can never be undone, this being one of my favorites.

When she sighs, I feel the depression of her body into the cushions, how it invites me to wrap my wings around her. I’m drawn to her softness, her passion, her sweet demeanor—and there’s something else she’s adopted that arouses me in there.

It’s strength.

Sleep lures me to unwind. My eyes close easily while I focus on her breathing, each exhalation drawing me deeper into that satisfying abyss.

And just before I give myself over, I recognize that my lips have not once whispered my love for her.

I’ve told her I’m falling in love with her. I’ve acknowledged the affection that swells in me every time I see her face.

But never have I said,I love you.

I’m afraid my lips won’t allow it.

Chapter Eighteen

Liya

A pile of mail sits on the table that I peer curiously at while walking past it.

“Anyway,” I say to Willow on the phone. “Did your dad ever get suspicious about those condos?”

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