Page 6 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"You don't have to!" I blurted out.

The words left my mouth, and my organs started rioting inside my body. What was I saying? Briony, tell me, what the hell does "you don't have to" mean?

"What did you say?" He turned back, somewhat surprised.

"I mean, I don't mind." I waved my hands randomly to cover my embarrassment and nerves. "At the wedding earlier, I was already... honestly, that was basically naked anyway. And look, you saved me. I can't make you stand outside waiting. There's no couch out there..."

My words came out jumbled, but he seemed to piece together useful information from the gibberish.

"Do you know what you're saying, Briony?"

"I know I don't want you to leave." Saying that, I nearly bit through my tongue.

"Alright." He loosened his tie, then leaned against the door. "I'll watch. Don't change your mind."

Just standing there, he filled the entire room. His presence felt almost physical.

I clutched the dress and walked awkwardly to the other end of the room. I could feel a burning gaze following me, my back on fire. I considered stripping everything off right in front of him, revealing the black lace bra and the red thong he'd already met.

But that absolutely wouldn't work. I knew my extra weight didn't support displaying myself that way. And my mismatched underwear would just make me look weird, not sexy.

I removed his jacket, then shed the torn dress, standing there in just my bra and panties, keeping a few steps away from the mirror.

The burning sensation intensified. I instinctively straightened, sucking in my slightly protruding stomach. I hated seeing that soft, somewhat round version of myself in the mirror.

The girl in the mirror always had a ring of soft flesh around her belly. Wide, full hips and thighs that completely failed current beauty standards. Breasts that sagged slightly from gravity, only looking somewhat flat with restrictive underwear.

I opened the dress. The lustrous fabric and sharp, exquisite tailoring filled me with wonder and fear. Clothes always played cruel jokes on me—either the waist hung loose like a sack while the hips fit perfectly, or the whole thing wouldn't pull past my thighs.

I didn't dare look back. Carefully, I slipped into the dress.

It slid smoothly from my shoulders, enveloping my body. Only then did I realize this wasn't really a formal gown. It was simple, lightweight, elegant enough for any occasion.

I reached behind for the zipper, pulling up gently. The waist cinched, and I straightened instinctively. But then my chest protested, the tight fabric forcing me to suck in air, but the zipper refused to budge.

Dammit, why did it have to stop here?

"I think you need me." Varlam's magnetic voice sounded behind me.

Then his fingers climbed my back. Even through the fabric, I felt his skin's heat.

He pressed the zipper with his fingertip, and it moved obediently upward until it stopped. But his hand kept rising, brushing my bare skin. His fingers were rough, the places he touched tingling with slight pain, pulling at something inside me.

"Look at you. Breathtaking." He met my somewhat dazed eyes in the mirror.

"Is this me?" I couldn't quite believe it.

This dress perfectly sculpted my overly round figure into an hourglass. My chest and hip curves harmonized for the first time.

I'd never imagined I could look this beautiful, fit a dress this well. I didn't have to hide my overly full flesh anymore, didn't have to shrink myself.

"The genuine article." His eyes and voice carried admiration. "This is how you should be. If I weren't so inexperienced, you'd be even more perfect."

"Inexperienced?" I turned to face him, confused.

"They're a bit bigger than I estimated." His hand didn't touch me, just gestured lightly on either side of my chest. "You've been burying your gorgeous body."

His eyes shone unusually bright. Heat spread from my lower abdomen to every corner of my body. So when he sat on the couch sizing me up earlier, he'd been measuring me from a distance?