Page 62 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

This man could always find his control at the worst, most chaotic moments. That restraint had been ground into him by years and danger. I didn't have it. The calmer he stayed, the wilder my heartbeat got. He stared at me like he was giving me one last exit. But my body only pressed closer.

"You're asking now? Weren't you the one who shoved your hand under my clothes?"

Varlam's gaze went completely dark.

My back hit the elevator wall again. One hand protected my head, the other slid down my waist and gripped my thigh. He ducked his head and bit my lower lip, then worked his way down to my neck. I tilted my head back, felt every sharp, stinging kiss. Danger still hung over us, but all I wanted was for him to keep using his body to calm me down.

My hand moved between his legs. He was hard—rock solid. I stroked him through the fabric of his slacks, felt him pulse under my palm, the thick length of him twitching against my touch like it had a will of its own. His breath hissed out against my neck, hot and ragged.

"Christ, Briony." His fingers hooked into my underwear and dragged it down, letting it hang around my thighs. I couldn't close my knees; they trembled too hard.

Then his hand was between my legs. Two fingers pushed inside without warning. I could hear it—the wet sound of him moving in me. Obscene. My face burned, but I couldn't make myself care.

"You're soaked," he muttered against my mouth. "Did the elevator scare you this much, or is this all for me?" His voice was low, rough, the words vibrating against my lips.

"Shut up." My nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt, clutching hard enough to leave marks I hoped he would feel for days.

"You want me to stop?" He twisted his fingers, dragging a choked gasp out of me. The pressure was relentless, perfect, and I hated how easily he owned every reaction.

"Don't you fucking dare."

He added a third finger. The stretch burned for half a second before it turned into something else. Something that made my knees shake. Fullness and friction collided, sending heat flooding low in my belly until I felt light-headed. His thumb found my clit and rubbed in tight circles while his fingers kept moving inside me. I buried my face in his shoulder, muffling the sounds I couldn't hold back—broken little whimpers that still escaped, traitorous and needy.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me feel you." The words rumbled through his chest and into mine.

His fingers pumped faster, harder. The wet sounds got louder, shameless, echoing off the mirrored walls. My whole body pulled tight like a string about to snap. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until I was shaking all over. I bit down on his shoulder through his shirt, tasting fabric and feeling the solid muscle underneath flex as he worked me. He didn't slow down. If anything, he went harder, curling those fingers just so, grinding his thumb in ruthless circles that made stars burst behind my closed eyes.

"Come on my hand, Briony. Let me feel how tight you get." The command was pure sin, low and certain.

I was right there. Right on the edge. My thighs trembled, my breathing came in ragged gasps. Every muscle locking, that final wave already cresting—

Ding.

A sharp, clear sound cut through the elevator.

I froze. Varlam stopped.

The scrambled numbers on the display screen suddenly became clear digits. The car gave a gentle shake, and the mechanical hum started up beneath our feet, smooth as if the plummet had never happened. Reality crashed back—maintenance workers were probably right outside that door.

And I was half-naked in the corner of an elevator with my boss.

Varlam moved first. He pulled his hand out, efficient. My body went hollow, stuck right there on the edge. He straightened my clothes, then stepped back. Now he looked exactly like the Mr. Petrov who made everyone hold their breath.

My heart was still slamming against my ribs, but he'd used a few breaths to turn back into the composed boss. That calm left an empty space in my chest.

"Sir, can you hear me? Control system's restored. The car will stop at the nearest floor. Someone will be waiting outside." The intercom crackled to life.

"Got it." Varlam glanced at the display, voice giving nothing away.

I picked up the scattered files from the floor. His tie still lay there. Neither of us mentioned what just happened.

I stared at the changing numbers, forcing my breathing to even out.

The car slowed to a stop. The metal doors slid open. And I saw Brinny kneeling outside. She'd changed into a fresh pale dress, her feet bare. Several maintenance workers stood behind her, looking awkward and helpless.

When she saw Varlam, tears spilled down her face.

"Varlam." Her voice came out soft, like it might break if you touched it. "I thought something happened to you."