Page 111 of The Bratva Betrayal

“Yes.”

I watch her face and think about how she looks like this and nowhere else.

Like every careful layer she carries into every other room has come undone in a bridal shop dressing room, and she can’t decide whether to be furious about it.

I know what I’m going to do about Cady beyond this room. I’m not going to smother her. She doesn’t need managing, and I know better than to try.

She wants to be treated like an equal, and I can do that easily because she’s the first person I’ve been around in a long time who’s worth treating that way.

I won’t let her walk into situations that put her in danger, and that’s not negotiable. She’s going to push back on it, and I’m going to hold the line.

The only thing I mind is the idea of her thinking this has an end date. That she can put a clock on us, wait it out, and walk away when the time she’s decided on runs out.

She’s not going to walk away.

I haven’t figured out how to explain that in a way that doesn’t make her dig in harder out of stubbornness, so I’m taking the more direct approach.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I tell her, my voice dropping back into the negotiation portion of this conversation. “You’re going to stop putting time limits on something that doesn’t have one. I’m going to handle the things that need handling. And when you disagree with how I’m doing that, you’ll tell me, and we’ll talk about it. Like two people who have decided to date.”

The word still sits foreign in my mouth, and she catches it. I can see it in the small flash of amusement she tries to hide.

“Don’t,” I warn her.

“I didn’t say anything yet.”

“You were about to.”

“And?”

I roll my eyes.

“I was going to say that for a man who doesn’t date, you have a lot of opinions about how it works.”

I add a third finger inside her, stretching her out some more for me, and that gives me the sweet little gasp I was looking for.

I curl my fingers inside her, finding the spot that makes her eyes flutter shut. She tries to stay composed, but her breath hitches, betraying her and how much she’s trying to keep me at a distance.

“ I notice,” I murmur, leaning closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “That you talk more when you’re trying not to make noise for me.”

“I’m not—“ she starts, but I crook my fingers just so, and her protest dissolves into a sharp, shuddering moan.

It’s a beautiful, wrecked sound that goes straight to my cock, already rock hard and straining against my trousers.

“See?” I say, my voice growing thicker. “There it is.”

I start a slow, relentless rhythm, my fingers sliding in and out of her slick heat. Her hips begin to move against my hand. A tiny, involuntary rocking that she tries to stop before her teeth sink into her full lower lip.

“Don’t hold back.” My free hand comes up to grip her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you, Lisichka.”

She shakes her head, a defiant glint in her eyes even as her body surrenders.

But her resolve is crumbling.

Another deep, twisting thrust of my fingers, and another moan escapes, longer this time, sweeter than the last one.

The sound feeds something dark and possessive in me. My control begins to splinter.

It’s for her and only her.