Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
He groans low in his throat, the sound rough and choked.
“Molly,” he breathes, “you’re shaking.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I answer honestly.
“Tell me what you need.”
“You,” I whisper, sinking down fully and biting my lip at the sensation. “Just you. Right now.”
His hands lift and rest on my thighs, barely touching, letting me decide if I want more pressure or less. I move slowly at first, finding a rhythm that steadies the trembling in my limbs. Every time I lift my hips and sink back down, the fear inside me loosens its grip a little more.
He watches me with reverence so intense it borders on pain.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse.
I press my fingers to his lips to keep him silent. I don’t want his words right now. I just want his body. I roll my hips and his breath breaks in a sharp, quiet gasp. He grips my thighs harder, anchoring me to him.
My pleasure builds slowly, a soft, pulsing warmth that grows with every thrust. His eyes never leave mine. The connection feels so fierce, so overwhelming, that I almost want to look away. Almost.
Instead, I remind myself that this isn’t love. This is just sex. All this will ever be is sex. When I start to tremble again, this time for a completely different reason, he grips my hips to steady me.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “You can let go.”
So I do. The climax hits me like a wave, sudden and overwhelming. My breath catches and a soft cry escapes before I can swallow it. My hands fly to his shoulders, holding on as the pleasure crashes through me, shaking the fear loose from my bones. He groans when he feels me tighten around him, his own release following a moment later, deep and shuddering.
I collapse against his chest, breathing hard. His arms wrap around me carefully, cautiously, like he’s afraid I’ll break. Maybe I will. Just for now, though, I let him hold me and pretend that everything is normal.
27
SAMUIL
Iwake up with the sun. It hits my eyes from the crack in the blinds. I groan against consciousness, but it’s no use. My body wakes up without my permission.
Molly is sound asleep next to me, but she’s curled in on herself, the sheet tangled around her hips. She looks so small and fragile, so vulnerable. It’s completely different from the way she took control last night. I knew it was all an act. What happened yesterday was horrific.
I lie on my side and watch her for a long time. Her wrists are still chafed. There’s a faint bruise on her hip, though I can’t tell if that’s from those bastards or if I put it there. She looks so different from the fierce woman I’ve come to know.
It hits me that she hadn’t meant for last night to be a reunion. It was desperation, a primal need to find some balance and control after an ordeal that stole her sense of security. It doesn’t change how she feels about me.
I can see it all over her face. Even in sleep, she doesn’t want to be anywhere near me. Her priority is herself and our baby. How could I ever, even for one second, have chosen the Bratva over her?
I sit up, plant my elbows on my knees, and press my palms together until my knuckles crack. Last night, when I carried her out of that warehouse, something in me split clean down the center.
For years, maybe my entire life, I believed the world could only exist one way. Violence bought stability. Power bought protection. Loyalty was currency. Empire was survival. I knew how the world worked, and I knew that the only people who would ever truly accept and support me were my men.
Then I saw her chained to that mattress. I saw the way that creep was watching her. I watched the world I’d built collapse in three seconds.
I rub both hands over my face.
The Bratva has been my identity since birth. It was my heritage, my duty, my future. But none of that mattered when I saw Molly’s eyes wide, terrified, locked on her captor. When I saw what those bastards were putting her through, and realized what else they had planned for her. When she whispered my name like a prayer right before I shot that bastard in the face.
The pakhan in me acted without hesitation, without remorse. The man in me, the one who loves her, reacted with fear and revulsion at what they’d done.
I can’t lose her. I won’t. Still, I know that I don’t deserve to keep her unless I change. I’m not sure I can live without her, and that’s worth a hell of a lot.
Last night, I saw the future. I saw what could happen if I didn’t give up the Bratva. The only thing waiting on the other side is a coffin, and it isn’t mine. It’s hers. That’s a price I refuse to pay. Nothing in the world is worth losing her for good.