Page 9 of Bratva’s Stolen Bride (Obsessed Bratva Bosses #1)

PAYTON

Those fluttery-soft butterflies return to my belly as I let my eyelids fall.

“That’s my good girl,” he croons.

There’s a wet noise, and he exhales and releases my chin.

Because of the bright sunlight coming through the windows, it’s not black behind my eyelids. There are blotches of pink and orange. But there isn’t what I want to see, which is Feliks.

The sound of the air conditioning unit and the call of birds outside is louder, and my skin prickles with apprehension.

I sway, and catch another scent, beneath the suncream’s floral notes with a metallic tang, there’s a musky note that’s deeper, and almost woody.

Feliks.

He hasn’t touched me since I closed my eyes, but when I bite my lip, he chuckles softly.

My nipples have pebbled. I know it. Not knowing where he’s looking, or if he’s even watching me, makes this unbearable.

The moment stretches out, and I wonder if he somehow moved away and left me like this, craving him, so horny, and needing…

Something. Him. I haven’t done enough with other men—boys—to be sure what I’m on the edge of.

I gasp as his hand clasps my jaw, and then I feel his fingers on my other cheek, over my eyebrow, down the side of my face and over my brow.

It takes a second for the obvious to hit me.

Sunscreen.

Of course. He’s putting it on my face, and ensuring it doesn’t go in my eyes.

“That’s it,” he murmurs as I tilt my chin up into his touch.

He wipes the cream over my cheeks, and down the bridge of my nose. This is the most intimate thing that has ever been done to me. His finger on my upper lip, and under my eye is a depth of trust I didn’t even realise that I hadn’t given anyone.

With my eyes shut, I’m mesmerised by the path of his touch, his breath that I imagine I can feel on my hair, and the extreme vulnerability of not being able to see what he’s doing, or what to expect next.

His hands lift, and I wait, longing for what he promised. Whatever he wants to do to me.

I’m his doll. His to dress, protect, care for. Direct.

“Perfect.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “You can open your eyes now.”

He’s stepped away, and my whole being slumps with disappointment. I disguise it with a smile. “Thank you. Can I go swim?”

“Should I call you little fish, instead?” he asks indulgently as he nods, but I’m already scurrying out of the house and onto the decking.

“What do you mean, instead?” The moment my feet touch the sand though, I squeal.

Feliks laughs, and doesn’t answer my question.

It’s burning hot, scorching the soles of my feet, and I hop in disbelief. It’s insanely hot!

“Such a soft creature,” Feliks says, calmly walking over the roasting sand.

The desire to watch his retreating back battles with the pain from my feet, and self-preservation wins out over thirst. I make a dash for the water, sprinting as fast as I can, my feet on fire, and when I reach the sea, it’s heaven.

The water laps at my feet and I groan with relief. But it’s not freezing, like the outdoor pools are at home in London. I take another step. It’s Goldilocks water, the temperature of bathwater when you’ve read two chapters and yawn sleepily.

Feliks splashes into the sea next to me.

“How are your feet not char-grilled?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Practice. You swimming?”

He’s already up to his waist, ahead of me, and my god, his tattooed, muscled back is as stunning as the view. All stark black lines and golden skin. He’s at home here, like he said.

An elegant dive and he emerges in motion, shaking the water from his hair and cutting through with easy strokes. I watch him, the sun on my skin, the water lapping at my ankles, the soft sand beneath my feet, and the salty scent of the ocean in my nose.

There’s a line further out where the turquoise near the beach deepens to dark-blue the colour of Feliks’ eyes. And I recognise why he seems like he was made out of this place. The golden sand his skin and the deep sea his eyes. The black of his hair and his tattoos is all his own though.

He stops and turns, treading water and smooths the hair out of his eyes.

“Come on. You wanted to swim,” he teases.

I did, but apparently, I want to look at him, and be touched by him even more.

“You’re distracting,” I mutter under my breath, but I follow him in, bracing myself for the inevitable cold… But unlike home, it’s not. It’s perfect.

The water envelops me, and in seconds I’m in and swimming, ducking my head under water and just the right amount of cool washes over me.

I love swimming anywhere for the joy of my body being held, weightless.

There aren’t jarring knocks to my knees or my ankles when I swim as there are when I run.

My boobs aren’t an inconvenience, in fact, nothing about my body is wrong in the water.

I swear Taylor got all the graceful Love genes, and I got all the awkward ones.

I pause and look down through the perfectly clear water. I can even see the sand at the bottom.

“There’s no coral here?”

“On the other side of the island,” Feliks says. “If you can learn to equalise your ears, I’ll take you diving.”

“Really?” I say, surprised.

“Of course.”

“But why?” We’re both treading water, perhaps six feet apart now.

“You’re my prisoner to protect you, as I said. Not as punishment or torture.”

I think of what he told me about Ivan, and it’s the first chill I’ve had since we landed. Feliks is floating nearby, and I spin in the water so I’m on my back and take a few lazy strokes, propelling myself from the beach.

It’s picture-perfect as I look up at the afternoon sky and back at the beach house, palm trees, and curve of the sand around the corner.

We’re on the edge of the darker-blue water now, and I begin to paddle away from Feliks. All I can see of him is his head, his shoulders and body all hidden by the water.

“Not too far out, lisichka,” Feliks says.

“Why? Worried I’ll escape?” I turn and look over my shoulder. “Is that another island in the distance?” It’s difficult to make out from here, but there’s a line of cloud on the horizon that could be land.

“I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble,” he answers gravely.

“Hum.” I make a sing-sonny teasing noise. “I think you just don’t want me to escape.”

I can swim well, but that far? I’m not sure. Maybe enough to get around the island, and find a way to get a message to Hayley. She’ll be freaking out by now. If we can dive on the other side of the island, maybe there’s diving equipment and other stuff there. A boat, for instance.

Casually, I swim away.

“Lisichka,” he says warningly.

“What does that mean?” I ask again, continuing to put distance between us, but his eyes are gleaming, and he’s following.

“Little fox.” I paddle a bit faster, turning to aim around the island rather than straight out to sea. Might I be quicker than Feliks? It’s unlikely, but right now I have the element of surprise. He doesn’t know what I’m going to do.

“Why a little fox?” I’m keeping talking to him to lull him into a false sense of security, not because I want the answer to why he’s given me a cute pet name.

“Because you’re clever, and quick, and beautiful,” he replies.

I glow with the compliment.

“But, little fox, although you can swim very well, you should be aware…” There’s something in his expression. Something feral and dangerous and arrogantly in control.

I bolt, launching my body into an efficient front crawl. My head goes down and I pound my arms through the water, kicking desperately.

He swears, and there’s a splashing sound.

I don’t look back, my heart racing.

I focus on breathing, my face snapping from one side to the other, dragging in air. The sun is hot, and yeah, there’s not much of a chance, but really? I have to take this opportunity, scant as it is.

For a moment I think I might escape. It’s a stupid, fleeting thought, born of blood that’s pounding and legs and arms already screaming at me.

Then something catches at my ankle. Hard.

I know it’s Feliks before my body does, and I flail as I come to a sudden stop and I’m sinking, my head going under, and my foot staying up, my bottom awkwardly sagging in the middle.

Then I’m hauled against a warm chest, and Feliks’ hands are under my armpits, holding me.

I cough and splutter, my hair over my eyes and despite knowing I’m caught, I push against his shoulders. Then my legs have tangled with his and my brain is putty.

“I’m a shark. And I will catch you every time you try to escape, my naughty little fox.”

Pulling in breath, I glare at him.

I knew he’d catch me. I think I wanted him to.

Holding me to him with one arm, he tucks the wet tendrils of my hair behind my ear.

“Moya lisichka. You’re such trouble.” There’s exasperation in his tone, but he grips me tighter, and without thinking, I wrap my legs around his waist. He’s effortlessly keeping both of us afloat in the deep, blue sea.

That’s the other thing about the water. It’s a leveller. Where on the ground, he towers over me, here he’s just a head. My imagination fills in all the details I saw earlier, but we’re face-to-face.

I’m still breathing hard as I look into Feliks’ eyes, and all the crackling tension between us pulls in, like a thunderstorm cloud rolling over the horizon, low and unavoidable.

My inner thighs, the ones he so carefully covered with sunscreen, are clamped onto him.

Where I thought I was trying to lever myself away with my hands on his shoulders, I’m gripping him, exploring the top of his back with my fingertips.

The sun through the water droplets on my eyelashes and on his face cover everything with sparkles and rainbows.

Suddenly, it’s not the chase and capture that has my heart racing, it’s him.

Feliks. My ex-boyfriend’s dad.

It took months of Ivan badgering me, giving me gifts, and generally not taking no for an answer before I let him kiss me. And even then, it was a sad, tepid kiss. Closed lips. Passionless. I didn’t want it, and I don’t think, from what Feliks said, that Ivan did either.

But less than a day with his dad, and I’m almost ready to beg for a kiss.

“You’ve my captive, and that means you can’t leave.

But anything else, Payton, that’s up to you.

So if you don’t want me to kiss you, you need to move away.

Because being so close to you? I can’t trust myself.

You’re too beautiful. Too tempting. Too sweet and perfect for a man like me.

And right now, you’re still my son’s girlfriend. ”

“Ex-girlfriend.” It’s a little puff of air, barely even words.

“Until I kill him,” he says harshly. “Think carefully about your answer. Consider what you’re going to do next, but don’t take too long because I’ll have my lips on yours.”

I can’t, because I crave whatever this is. I’m hot and needy between my legs and my lips are tingling with desire.

“I’ll give you a countdown. Three.” He leans closer, his warm breath on my lips. “Two.” Angling his head, he raises his hand and slides his fingertips over my jaw. “One.”

Then his lips reach mine.