Page 76 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

Lukyan remains near the doorway. One shoulder rests casually against the frame. Completely at ease. Completely unfair.

“Can I not come see my wife?”

My head snaps back toward him. The word wife settles strangely in the room and causes warmth to rush between my legs.

For a second, I forget what I was going to say. Lukyan watches me. Patiently. Like he’s waiting for something. Then one corner of his mouth shifts. Not really a smile, but blinding nonetheless.

His gaze moves over my face. “You’re blushing, Sofia.”

My eyes widen in sheer horror. His expression remains entirely deadpan, which only makes the mockery worse. He is teasing me. And he is enjoying every single second of it.

The utter humiliation of the moment burns through my veins, and before my filter can stop me, the embarrassment morphs into pure defense. I snap.

“If you’re quite done staring, please leave and let me get back to my reading,” I say, my voice clipped as I gesture aggressively toward the open book in my lap.

Lukyan lets out a low, mocking scoff, his shoulder still propped casually against the frame. “So, you’re the only one allowed to stare?”

I gasp, the sheer audacity of his words striking a nerve. I turn fully toward him, my eyes flashing with sudden heat.

“I wasn’t staring!” I lie through my teeth, my chin lifting defiantly. “I came looking for you to tell you something. I left only because I saw you were busy.”

He tilts his head, his dark gaze tracking the defensive rise and fall of my chest. He doesn’t look even remotely convinced. “Is that so? And what exactly did you come to tell me?”

I lock eyes with him, and the words immediately die in my throat. My mind races, scrambling frantically for a lie, a cover story, anything that sounds remotely plausible.

But under the weight of his stare, my brain short-circuits. I struggle for words, the silence stretching between us until I finally just blurt out the raw, frustrating truth that had been eating at me all afternoon.

“I miss my old life,” I say, the confession sounding breathless and sharp. “Life here is boring.”

The amusement vanishes from his face instantly. His eyes narrow to dangerous slits, and a sudden, predatory tension ripples through his frame. The playful atmosphere evaporates, replaced by a cold, suffocating gravity.

He pushes off the doorframe.

Slowly, deliberately, he stalks into the room, his movements entirely unhurried but carrying the terrifying weight of a predator cornering its prey. I instinctively tense, pressing myself slightly back against the pillows as he closes the distance between us.

“Boring?” Lukyan repeats, his voice a low, lethal purr that vibrates right through the floorboards. He stops at the edge of my bed, towering over me. “Is that so? Let me make it a little fun for you.”

Before I can even think to scramble backward, his hand shoots forward. His fingers fist tightly into my hair, anchoring me in place and yanking me upward until my face is mere inches from his. The sudden, intense proximity makes my breath hitch.

He tilts his head, his dark eyes burning into mine. “Maybe it’s boring because I don’t touch you, hmm? Because we haven’t consummated our marriage?”

A sudden, fierce heat explodes in my chest at his words, a dizzying rush of friction and adrenaline. My hands press against his chest, trying to create distance.

“Leave me alone,” I gasp, though the demand sounds breathless, stripped of any real authority.

“Do you really want that,zaychik?” With his free hand, he brings his fingers up to the side of my neck, pressing a single finger firmly against my throat. A dark, knowing smirk touches his lips. “Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, Sofia.”

I can only glare at him, my eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and absolute vulnerability, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal admission.

His gaze drops to my lips, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “I’m going to kiss you now. Pull away if you don’t want it.”

Every instinct in my brain screams at me to pull away, to wrench myself from his grip and re-establish the boundaries between us. I almost do. I make the internal decision to move—but his mouth is already so close to mine, the warmth of his breath brushing against my lips.

A sudden, desperate craving paralyzes me; I want to feel him. Just for a few seconds. I’ll push him away right after. I swear I will. I just need to know what it feels like, even for a moment.

When I don’t pull away, his mouth claims mine.

A quiet gasp escapes me, and he immediately uses the opening, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth to dominate the kiss completely. I have never felt a more powerful, intoxicating rush of desire in my life.