Page 12 of Forced Mafia Bride
He had thick, moderate eyelashes, a full mouth that knew just how towork,and a body frame that could make me disappear if he covered me. He wasn’t wearing a jacket over his black dress shirt, so the expanse of his broad chest was on full view. The firmness was very clear. And knowing I’d felt just how hard those muscles were under that snug fabric caused a warmth to climb my skin, suffocating every other logical sense of reasoning and awakening instead a deep burning desire to feel more of him.
Now, even in the disheveled state, he only looked more dangerously handsome.
“What do you mean?”
The huskiness of his voice, still trapped with lustful desire, made me snap back to reality. With shaky hands, I pointed to the dress sitting above my knee, and he caught the movement. “You were trying to….”
“To what?” He blew out an impatient sigh and narrowed his eyes. “You made your proposal, and this is mine. If I will consider your offer, I will have you tonight.”
I was breathing hard now. This was not the plan. This part, getting physical with him—where I clutched my chest because I still couldn’t believe how insanely divine that kiss was. Yes, I wanted to charm him, share a glass of wine, and get him to help me escape from the nightmare of a marriage. But I’d never considered havingrealsex with one of the most dangerous men in the world.Nikolai Yezhov.
The sex was one thing. Offering him my virginity suddenly seemed too high a price for me to pay. But he wasn’t stupid; there were no mixed signals. I’d moaned in his mouth, breathed in his exhale, kissed his neck, combed my own fingers throughhis hair, and played with the buttons on his shirt, trying hard not to slip my palm underneath the fabric.
I wanted him as much as he wanted me, but…this man wasNikolai,dammit! A Yezhov! One of the top ringleaders in the Bratva! His brother was thePahkan!
Rosalyn, wake up!
What would I be getting myself into if I let go of all my fears and inhibitions and gave into this tempting desire to be with him?
The movement on the couch made me realize he was getting up.Getting ready to leave.I panicked and, without thinking, reached for his wrist, halting him in his tracks.
He glared at my hand, and I yanked it away like I’d been scorched by a flaming torch.
Just great.
I’d insulted my inner feminist.
I tried to speak but tripped over my own words. I was trapped between a rock and a hard place. If I didn’t say something soon, he was going to walk out that door and would probably forget someone like me ever existed.
He’d forget my offer.
I didn’t want him to leave, and I couldn’t decide whether I was ready to accept his offer.
“There are many factors to consider here. We can’t just…have sex like strangers do in movies.”
He searched my face, thick, dark brows wrinkled between his forehead like he was trying to figure something out. When he released an exasperated sigh, I knew he stopped trying. “What are you saying, Rosalyn?”
I nodded.
“Words.”
I swallowed. The decision had been made, but even in heated moments like this, it was advisable to be logical. “I amsaying I don’t want you to go. I want this, but there are factors to consider. Tristan is almost sixty.”
“I’m forty,” he fired back without missing a beat and challenged me with one of those perfectly arched brows. My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach.
If I were to guess, I would have gone with thirty-five. Nothing about Nikolai gave the hint of forty.
“I…um…I turned twenty-one two months ago.”
I was practically a child before this man. That should have been a major red flag. A warning signal to jump ship,abort mission.If I couldn’t stand fifty-nine-year-old Tristan Gomez, what in the world made me believe that sex with Nikolai Yezhov would be as great as I’d already begun to imagine?
“Do I look like I fucking care about the age gap?”
Of course, he didn’t.
I shook my head.
He cursed something colorful under his breath in Russian, and it sounded as hot as it was aggressive. “Words, Rosalyn.”