Page 1 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

Before the Vows- Anton

I kissed her once.

Now I’m about to do something I won’t come back from.

And I already know — she’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

She moved like she wanted to be worshipped.

That dress clung to her like a second skin, glittering gold with a slit that ran too high, too sinful.

Her legs were bare.

Her laugh was loud. Her lipstick was smudged.

And her eyes… they were locked on mine.

She knew.

Five years after the kiss in the library, and she still fucking knew.

I followed her the second she slipped down the hallway, barefoot and drunk and dangerous.

Not because it was smart.

Not because it was safe.

Because I wanted to taste what I already knew would ruin me.

“Are you going to follow me all night?” she asked, voice like static, eyes molten.

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

She smiled like a dare. “Neither should you.”

I should’ve walked away.

Instead, I stepped closer. “What do you want from me, Lena?”

“I want to know if you still dream about that kiss.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

She backed into the wall. Her bare foot dragged up the side, leg exposed to the thigh, and her hand curled around the side of her dress.

“Too late,” she whispered.

I snapped.

In one breath I was on her. Fist tangled in her hair, mouth at her throat, body caging hers against the wall like I was starving for it — because I was.

“You don’t know what you’re playing with,” I growled.

“Then show me.”

I didn’t kiss her.

I didn’t undress her.

I just shoved my hand up her dress like I owned her.

No panties.

Fuck.

She gasped when my fingers met her pussy — wet, swollen, so ready for me it nearly made me lose it.

“God, Anton?—”

I slammed my palm over her mouth.

“No,” I breathed into her ear. “No one hears you come but me.”

My fingers sank into her — two at once, deep and rough — and she clenched so tight I thought I might die from it.

Her hips rolled. Her nails raked down my chest.

She was panting behind my hand, moaning into it, soaking my fingers while I fucked her with nothing but my hand and a decade of repressed obsession.

I shouldn’t have been this hard. I shouldn’t have been this close.

But I was. Feral. Wild. Lost in the heat of her.

“Is this what you wanted?” I hissed. “Me breaking every fucking rule just to feel you again?”

She nodded desperately, mouth open under my palm, grinding down against my hand like she wanted me to ruin her forever.

“You’ve been walking around for years,” I growled, “looking at me like you knew I’d snap. Like you wanted it.”

She whispered, “I did.”

And then she shattered.

Her thighs trembled.

Her back arched.

And her pussy clenched around my fingers as she came hard — soaking my hand, her body shaking, her breath catching in her throat like a sob.

She moaned my name into my palm.

And I saw god.

Or the devil. I’m not sure which.

I held her there, fingers still inside her, forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged.

I should’ve kissed her.

I should’ve taken her upstairs.

I should’ve broken her open and made her mine for real.

But instead?—

I pulled my hand back.

Stepped away.

Burned.

She leaned against the wall, cheeks flushed, chest heaving.

“That was a mistake,” I said, even as my cock throbbed, even as my hand still glistened with her.

Lena tilted her head and smiled.

“Then why do you look like you’ll kill the next man who touches me?”

She turned and walked away.

And I just stood there, fists clenched, heart shredded, watching the woman I couldn’t have disappear into the shadows.

I didn't breathe until she was gone.

I didn’t come that night.

I didn’t sleep.

I just sat in the dark with her taste still on my fingers and her name a curse I couldn’t stop saying.