Page 16 of Cruel Russian Pakhan (Safin Bratva #1)

After ordering the night’s special and the most expensive sweet red wine on the menu, I was finally able to think straight now that Katya was sitting on the opposite side of the table.

Tonight she wore a black fitted dress that clung to her curves.

The low back and halter neckline framed her perfectly, while the scooped front offered just enough temptation.

Her dress was complemented by red heels and a red clutch.

The soft curls at the ends of her hair made me want to tangle my fingers in it.

Wearing nothing but a touch of lip gloss and mascara, she looked absolutely beautiful.

When I met her at her room earlier, I wanted to take her right there against the door.

Every step she took beside me, her arm looped through mine, the soft curve of her breast brushing my arm, the soft fragrance of her perfume that wafted to my nostrils, pushed me closer to the edge.

By the time we got to the car, then into the restaurant, my restraint had worn thin.

But tonight wasn’t about me.

It was about her.

I had uprooted her from everything she knew; the least I could do was help her adjust to the life she was about to step into, helping her shed the nerves she had before facing the siblings she had never met. It also helped me feel less guilty about everything I put her through.

“Tell me about yourself,” I said, taking a slow sip of wine.

“There’s nothing much to tell.”

I chuckled. “Says the woman who fought me like a feral cat, picked the lock on a second-story window, and vanished into the night.”

Katya gave a small smile, her fingers trailing the stem of her glass. “Survival instinct. You either adapt or you die.”

That was exactly why I wanted to marry Vera in the first place.

Our faction had to adapt or die. The fact that Katya understood this premise meant she was flexible to change.

It also made me realize that I didn't have to worry too much about her new life.

Because Katya was a fighter, there was no way she was going to die, so the other option was for her to adapt.

“Learn that in foster care?”

She nodded, eyes flicking down briefly.

“Tell me about it,” I said, my voice softer now.

During dinner, Katya told me how she'd been bullied in foster care, by the adults and the children.

The adults would leave them without food or take them to the basement if they got angry with them.

She told me about the cuffs and ropes, and I fully understood then.

I thought maybe it had been Artyom who had traumatized her, but it wasn't.

Adults were supposed to take care of children. And the fact that these adults abused their power made me want to find each and every one of them and hurt them just as badly as they hurt Katya.

She then told me how the small knife she carried gave her a fragile sense of control. How she learned to pick locks, broke into stores, and stole food just to survive. How police lights became as familiar as streetlights.

I reached across the table and laid my hand over hers when her voice trembled as she spoke about Daisy and Arnold, the first people who treated her like she mattered.

And when she laughed, really laughed, it sent a jolt through me. She told me how she used to burn every batch of cookies, and how Arnold still ate them all and washed them down with juice to spare her feelings, though his face would contort with each bite.

At one point, I leaned in and gently dabbed a smudge of sauce from the corner of her mouth with my thumb. I brought it to my lips without thinking. Her breath caught, her pupils dilated, and she shifted slightly in her seat.

At first, I thought it was just a one-time thing, but I brushed my hand over hers and her chest rose and fell faster.

God.

She wanted me just as much as I wanted her. My cock strained in my pants at the revelation. But she wasn’t mine anymore. She’d soon be meeting her family, and I’d be marrying Vera. I shoved those thoughts aside and forced myself to focus on her voice.

When she talked about getting into college, how she’d earned her degree, her whole face lit up, blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. She spoke about wanting to make Daisy and Arnold proud, even though they were gone. How that first interview meant proving she could rise above the chaos of her past.

I was proud of her. So damn proud. Despite everything she went through, she didn't stop. She kept knocking down the obstacles as they came, grew from them, became better because of them.

But guilt coiled deep within me. Because of me, that interview never happened. Because of me, all her hard work went down the drain. I dragged her into my world, and her dream slipped through her fingers.

She must’ve seen it written all over my face. She started to reach for my hand, then stopped halfway, fingers curling back into her lap.

“Lev,” she said softly, “you don’t have to feel guilty about the interview. I gained something much more.”

Her gaze held mine, sadness flickering in her eyes, before it disappeared, and she smiled. “I’m happy I found my family. Besides Daisy and Arnold, I've never really felt like I belonged anywhere. Now, I have a chance at that, and I can’t wait to meet them. I can't wait to…belong.”

After dinner, we strolled in the cool evening air. I slipped my jacket over her shoulders without a word. And when we returned to the house, I helped her out of the car and walked her to her room in silence.

When we stopped at her door, she turned to face me.

“Thank you for tonight. I had a really nice time.”

I smiled back at her and gave a small nod. “It was my pleasure.”

She stepped closer to me and palmed one side of my face. I felt her fingers tremble against my cheek as she leaned in hesitantly before tiptoeing and kissing the other.

“Good night.” She lowered her hands, stepped back and then walked into her room, shutting the door behind her.

Tonight, I could barely contain myself being so close to her. But now? After she willingly put her lips on me? All bets were off. I couldn't resist her anymore.

I stormed into the room and went straight for her. She turned at the sound, her lips parting, surprise flickering across her face. I didn’t give her time to question it.

My hands found her face, and I kissed her. Not soft. Not sweet. I kissed her like I owned her—which, legally, I still did.

My control, something I wielded like a blade—the little that was left after spending hours with her—snapped a bit more the second her lips touched mine. She whimpered and opened to me, and I nearly lost it right there.

She was ice and fire, and I was done pretending I wasn’t burning. Done pretending I didn't want to break down her icy walls and feel her warmth.

Katya had no idea what she’d done to me. Was doing to me. Since the day she entered my world, she’d carved herself into my mind, crept beneath my skin like a curse I didn’t want lifted.

And tonight, I was finally going to claim what already belonged to me.

My thumbs swept along her jaw, as I deepened the kiss. I felt her pulse thundering under the surface, matching the beat of mine.

She tasted like the wine she drank earlier: rich, sweet, and sinful.

But it wasn’t just her taste. It was her scent. Her skin. The way she trembled under my hands. Just like the wine, she was intoxicating, potent and dangerous.

And fuck, I was drunk on her.

I craved her with a desperation I didn’t recognize, didn’t want to. More than power. More than vengeance. More than anything I’d ever taken in this brutal life of mine.

Katya wasn’t just a woman. She was a vice. A weakness. My weakness.

And I was ready to lose myself in her completely.

My hands slid down her bare spine and back up again, finding the clasp at the nape of her neck.

Once undone, the dress surrendered, and I pushed it down, revealing bare skin and the swell of her breasts.

I didn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t. Her moan vibrated against my mouth when my fingers found her hardened nipples, and her back arched so perfectly it made my cock twitch against the fabric of my pants.

I needed to see her. I had to.

I pulled back just enough to look, and fuck, the sight of her made my knees nearly buckle.

Her breasts rose and fell in sharp little gasps, nipples flushed and tight, begging for my mouth. My control snapped one thread further.

I dropped my head and took one into my mouth, groaning when her hand dove into my hair and tugged hard. My free hand pinched and played with the other, and she writhed beneath me like she didn’t know whether to pull me closer or cry out.

Her knees gave slightly, and I caught her, guiding her backward until the backs of her thighs hit the bed. I eased her down, covering her with kisses as I followed her to the center of the bed.

I continued my assault on her breasts, alternating between suckling and teasing, watching and hearing her come apart beneath my mouth and hands.

I worked the dress lower, dragging the silky fabric over her hips. She lifted her ass without needing to be told, helping me strip it from her. When I looked at her again, my breath caught.

Black lace barely hid the thick, perfect mound between her thighs. She shifted, unsure, and my gaze locked with hers. Her lips were parted, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide with need.

Fuck.

God help me, I was going to wreck her, and worship her. I wanted to lose myself inside her to the point where I never found my way out, if only for tonight.

After removing her heels, I stripped, fast and impatient, not caring where anything landed. My cock sprang free, hard and aching, and when I leaned over her again, it pressed against the heat of her slick panties.

She whimpered and I groaned.

I bent down, kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her throat. I felt her heartbeat thundering against my lips.

“You’re a very beautiful woman, Katya,” I murmured, voice hoarse.

“And you’re a very beautiful man, Lev,” she whispered back.