Page 36 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

HOPE

We end up in a closet.

Pavel is pressed against my back, his chest rising and falling steadily. I’m acutely aware of the heat of his body, his solid strength, the way he seems to surround me completely, even in this tiny space.

This is not good. Because every time I’m in close proximity to this man, I do something stupid.

Like let him fuck me with his gun.

I’ve spent the last few days alternating between being horrified with myself and pretty damn turned on every time I replay the moment.

“Can you back up an inch?” I ask. It feels like it’s a hundred degrees in here. Which it might be. So many coats are jammed inside that we’re forced together in very, very close quarters.

“Sorry. No room.”

He doesn’t sound sorry at all. His large hand brushes my shoulder as he sweeps my hair to one side, knuckles grazing my skin. The simple contact sends a bead of sweat slipping down my spine.

This situation would be so much easier if he didn’t smell so damn good. I want to turn and bury my face in his chest. Or sink to my knees. Or press his hand between my legs and make him relieve the ache.

I clear my throat. “Thanks for playing with Kin,” I whisper.

“I’ve never played hide-and-seek before. I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would.”

To make his point, Pavel’s lips ghost over my ear, then lower to brush the sensitive skin of my neck. I have to clamp my teeth together to keep in the sound threatening to escape.

“What are you doing?” I hiss.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “We wouldn’t want to give away our hiding spot too soon.”

In the distance, I hear Kin’s voice calling out, “Where are you? I’m gonna find you!” Doors open and close, and Yarik’s deeper voice offers suggestions about where to look, but it sounds like they’re moving in the opposite direction.

“Pretty sure the rules of the game don’t allow touching.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I like this version better.”

Pavel’s hand slides along my ribs, then curves around to cup my breast. His thumb grazes my nipple, and his teeth catch on my neck, sucking until heat blooms under my skin.

A small, helpless sound slips out. I know I should stop him. Letting this go on will destroy whatever self-control I have left, but his hands on me feel too good.

“Tsk, tsk. You’re being too loud. I wouldn’t want Kin to find us just yet.” His palm covers my mouth, muffling my gasp, while his other hand skims down my stomach and over the curve of my hip.

Pressed so close together, I’m achingly aware of how much bigger he is than me. His body practically envelops mine, making me feel small and trapped against him.

“Did you know that when I was watching you in London, I broke into your flat one night?”

“You what?” I mumble against his hand. I try to turn around, but he holds me in place.

“It was part of the job,” he says, voice low and intimate. “I had to search your place. Make sure you weren’t building a criminal empire. Instead, I found a pile of dirty books and a woman living a lonely existence.”

Humiliation burns through me at his casual invasion of my privacy. But when his hand slides lower, fingers finding the hem of my dress, all thoughts fly out of my head.

“But of course, that’s the night you came home early. When your asshole boss finally did what he was told.” He chuckles darkly at the memory. “I had to hide in a closet like this one. It was that or kill you on the spot, and I didn’t quite like that idea.”

Asshole boss. Did what he was told? Is this about Darren?

Whatever questions I have dissolve into a whimper when my dress rides up under his grip, my panties pushed aside, and two thick fingers slide inside me. The stretch punches a moan into his hand.

“Want to know what I did instead?”

I shake my head, and he chuckles against my ear. His palm grinds against my clit, forcing me to ride his hand. It feels so damn good that there’s no way in hell I could stop this even if I wanted to.

Which I really, really don’t.

Thank all the gods no one else is around.

“Come on. You’re not the tiniest bit curious?”

He presses the thick, unyielding length of his cock against my ass, the pressure making my knees weak. His voice drops to that dangerous, filthy register.

“You stripped down, stepped into the shower, and I watched the water slide over every perfect inch of you. Nearly came right then and there.”

My body responds before my mind can shut this down—hips rocking back against him, a desperate whimper escaping despite his hand over my mouth.

I know I’m being reckless—wanton, even—but I’m sick of denying myself. And when it comes to pleasure, I know he can deliver. The intense, consuming, toe-curling, can’t-catch-your-breath kind. The kind that rewires your brain and ruins you for anyone else.

He releases my mouth for half a second to push his two fingers between my lips. I take them in without hesitation, sucking deep, tasting the faint salt of his skin. My tongue curls around each digit, drawing a low growl from his chest.

I’m still rocking against his hand, the heel of his palm working over my clit while his fingers are buried deep inside me. He ruts against me from behind, the thick length of his cock driving into the curve of my ass.

“Even though I should have ended you…” His voice is a low rasp against my ear, punctuated by a slow roll of his hips. “I stayed and watched you. Even used a pair of your panties to jerk myself off.”

The scrape of his stubble against my neck, the rough pull of his breath, and his filthy words push me closer to the edge.

“I drenched your panties in my cum. God, it was one of the best fucking orgasms of my life.”

I can’t hold back any longer. I come hard, clenching around him and soaking his hand.

My cry is muffled by the fingers still stuffed in my mouth. He doesn’t stop. He keeps working his palm against me, wringing every last shudder from my body.

He holds me tight, hand still wedged between my thighs, using me exactly how he needs. At last, his hips jolt in short, frantic jerks, a guttural curse spilling from his throat.

A minute later, footsteps sound in the hallway, followed by Yarik loudly announcing, “You’re right. Maybe they’re hiding in the garden. Let’s check there.”

Humiliation clings to my skin, followed by relief that we can slip out unseen, especially since I’m sure this closet reeks of sex and sin.

Pavel releases me, turning to press a hand against the wall. His head is bent, chest rising and falling as he drags air into his lungs.

I love knowing I wrecked him as much as he wrecked me.

When I’m sure the hallway is empty, I steel myself to walk out and pretend none of this ever happened.

Solid plan, Hope.

The moment my hand touches the doorknob, his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. In one smooth motion, he spins me around and kisses the hell out of me.

It’s deep and consuming, all tongue and heat, but there’s tenderness too. I’m too relaxed to fight him, so I give in, kissing him back, letting his tongue tangle with mine, tasting him, breathing him in like he’s oxygen.

When he finally pulls away, we stare into each other’s eyes despite the near darkness. A million questions flow between us. In many ways, I hardly know him, yet he’s profoundly shaped my life.

“Who are you, really?” I ask before I can think better of it. “Is there any of Lukas in you, or was it all an act?”

“Every moment I spent with you was real,” he says with quiet intensity. “Every exchange, every smile, every conversation, all of it was me.”

I blink slowly, memories reshuffling in my head. His words from earlier float back, something about my old boss doing what he was told.

“Darren. It was you who roughed him up! You were the reason he gave me time off and a raise.” I shake my head as it all falls into place. “The car service. The grocery store prize. All of it was you, wasn’t it?”

He doesn’t deny it, and that’s confirmation enough.

My throat tightens with unexpected emotion. “Why would you do that for me? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, zhena moya . Not everything in this world makes sense.”

“What did you call me?”

One corner of his mouth tips up in a smile. “My wife.”

My pulse stutters and I deflect, needing to avoid whatever this dangerous feeling is building between us.

“You look like you need a change of pants,” I say, glancing pointedly at the obvious wet spot on his jeans.

“Couldn’t help it. You drenching my hand like that was the biggest fucking turn-on. Worth blowing a load in my pants.”

Pavel’s filthy mouth sends another bolt of heat through my already oversensitive body. I need to put some space between us.

I tuck my hair behind my ears. “Uh, we should probably get out of here before Kin comes looking for us.”

Yarik took him outside, but who knows for how long.

Pavel cracks the door, peers out, then nods. “Coast is clear.”

We slip out like teenagers sneaking past curfew, padding quickly up the stairs, feeling a little giddy. My legs are unsteady, my body still humming with aftershocks from that mind-numbing orgasm.

At the top of the stairs, I pause outside my bedroom while Pavel continues toward his.

“Hey,” I call softly. He turns, eyebrows raised in question. “Thanks again for playing with us.”

He shrugs. “Most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

Kin’s finally asleep, sprawled across his bed like a starfish, one arm flung above his head. I listen to his steady breathing for a few minutes before I reach for the tablet on my nightstand.

I’ve put this off for days, though I’m not sure why. It’s not like I can test their security system without raising red flags. Really, I have no choice but to message Uncle Chen and hope the encrypted server he set up for us is enough.

But I can’t wait any longer. Not after today.

Not when Pavel calling me “my wife” in Russian made me melt. Not when watching him squeezed behind that couch with Kin, both of them grinning like idiots, made me think impossible thoughts about what being a family might actually feel like.

My head is a mess, and that’s exactly why I need to contact Chen before I forget that this man helped orchestrate my father’s death. Before I start believing the chemistry between us means something more.

And God, before anyone notices the small ways Kin is beginning to resemble his father. He’s already tall for his age, and his left eyebrow has the same slight arch as Pavel’s. Maybe it’s not enough for others to notice, but I can see it clearly.

That fear haunts me every time I see them together.

The way Pavel’s face softens when he talks to Kin.

The protective instincts I can see forming.

If he ever connects the dots, he would never let us leave.

Worse, he would want Kin raised in this world of violence and crime.

My son would become another Syndicate soldier.

I can’t let that happen.

I open the browser and navigate to what looks like a fitness blog called “Healthy Living Today”. To anyone monitoring, I’m browsing workout routines. But by clicking on specific exercise images in the exact sequence, a hidden chat interface opens behind an encrypted connection.

My heart picks up speed when I see there’s already a message waiting for me.

Hope, I’ve been worried sick after your voice message. I’m hoping you and Kin are safe. Tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen. I swore to your father I’d look after you, and I won’t go back on my word. -C

Relief floods through me that he’s still willing to help.

My fingers hover over the keyboard, searching for the right words to describe my situation.

“I feel safer here than I ever felt with Simon.”

Maybe not.

“I’m worried that I’m falling for my captor/husband/baby daddy.”

Also no.

I go with a message that is intentionally lacking details but hopefully reassures him that we’re not in any immediate danger.

Uncle, Thank you for not giving up on us.

Kin and I are safe for now, but we’re being kept at a Syndicate compound outside Moscow.

The property is locked down tight, but there still might be a way to escape if you can transfer the trust fund money to my account.

Has the bank approved the release of my funds? I’m truly grateful for you. -H

I hit send before I can second-guess myself.

Chen knows what to do. Once the bank releases the funds, they’ll transfer to the offshore account my father set up years ago.

Getting access to that account is the real problem.

I’ll need a computer without restrictions, which means somehow getting into Pavel’s office.

But hell, I can only think about one step at a time.

I spend the next twenty minutes clicking through random sites—recipes, celebrity drama, shopping pages—establishing normal browsing behavior so their security algorithms won’t detect anything unusual.

Finally, I power down the tablet and slide back under the covers. I stare up at the ceiling, thinking about the life I’m fighting for: Kin and me in New Zealand, living as normal people in a quiet place where violence can’t touch us.

So why doesn’t that prospect fill me with excitement anymore?