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Deck the Halls with Bratva Brawls

Page 73

by Gianni Holmes

“Let’s make a deal,” he said. “Put away the gun and let’s talk. If you’re not satisfied after, I give you permission to try to kill me, but I won’t go easy on you because you’re upset over nothing.”

Nothing?

I’d wanted to join them for dinner the second he and Zasha had left my room, but I’d shown restraint, talking myself into trusting Yuriy.

What was a relationship without trust?

At the last minute, I’d gone downstairs on the excuse that I needed some water, only to find Yuriy wrapped around a beautiful blonde, blue-eyed witch. And she had fucking perfect tits just like he’d said! Since Yuriy liked women as well, how could he not miss tits like those?

“I don’t need your permission to blow your brains out,” I growled, tightening my hold on the gun.

He dropped the knife. Just like that, he let it fall to the bed beside us. “So you know there’s a much more fun way of blowing my brains that I’m down for.”

Yuriy fisted my shirt and yanked me down into a kiss that wasn’t a kiss at all, more like a collision. Teeth. Heat. Fury twisted into something filthier and more addictive.

I tried to pull away. I didn’t want to kiss him. I wanted to splatter his brains across the bedspread for his betrayal, but Yuriy followed my movements, stealing my breath, cupping the back of my neck as if he owned it. Owned me. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Until his tongue slid against mine, demanding too much.

I bit down hard, and copper flooded my mouth. Yuriy groaned, not in pain. In pleasure.

Sick bastard.

I dragged myself back, chest heaving, wiping his blood from my lips. Then—god help me—I went back in for more, licking, sucking the drip that flowed in his mouth.

“Stas…” He slid his hand under my shirt.

I shoved off the bed like his touch burned his betrayal into my skin. I had to get away from him. To think. To remember why I was mad at him. Why we couldn’t work despite still wanting to touch him and kiss him.

I walked over to the bedside table, yanked the drawer open so hard the hinges protested. Relieved to find my smokes, I traded my gun for a cigarette, paced over to the window, and shoved it upward. A cold breeze buffeted my body, sweeping past me into the room. My hands trembled as I shielded the cigarette to light it.

Bracing my forearm against the window frame, I stubbed the cigarette between my lips, hating that it tasted nothing like Yuriy’s mouth. I puffed on the cigarette, dragging in smoke until my lungs hurt more than my pride.

And through it all, he remained lying on the bed, giving me space, not saying a damn thing. I despised this. Despised the jealousy chewing holes inside me. Despised how close I’d come—honest to god, close—to grabbing Yelena’s beautiful, innocent friend by the throat and choking her out on the dining room floor.

All because of him.

Because of the man lying on my bed like he hadn’t ruined me in every possible way.

How could he have done it so quickly? We’d spent less than a week together, and he had me wrapped around his finger, all while he was having dinner with and smiling at a pretty girl.

Behind me, the mattress shifted. A glance over my shoulder showed him watching me, propped up lazily on an elbow, smug as sin.

Fucker looked good even in infidelity.

“Come back to bed,” he said softly, patting the space next to him.

“The distance is good,” I muttered, blowing smoke out the window. If Yelena knew I was smoking in the house, I would never hear the end of it. “I might not be able to stop myself from shooting you after all. The urge is strong every time I look at your fucking face.”

“Ouch.” He sighed—dramatic, put-upon—then slid off the bed, footsteps soft on the carpet. His hands came around me, aiming for a hug from behind.

Before he could touch me, I jammed an elbow into his gut.

“Oof—” He staggered back, wheezing. “Fucking hell, Stanislav. Will you stop that?”

“Don’t touch me.”

“No.” He had recovered fast and wrapped a rough hand around the back of my neck, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to demand. “Listen to me. That girl held no interest for me at all.”

“Oh, really? That why your hands were all over her?”