Page 27 of Dark Desires (Chicago Bratva #1)

The intensity of his words makes my pussy clench around him. His lips find mine again, the kiss hard and consuming, like he’s devouring me whole. I cling to him, my nails digging into the taut skin of his powerful back, pulling him closer as if trying to fuse our bodies together.

He grinds against me with a growl, the thick ridge of his cock rubbing over that sensitive spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.

"Fuck yeah," he snarls against my mouth before biting down on my lower lip roughly. “You feel so goddamn good.”

“God, Alexei,” I whisper against his mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teases, his words punctuated by the slow rhythm of his thrusts. “Under me. Falling apart for me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there.”

He smirks as his pace quickens, his mouth pressing hot kisses along my throat. My breasts sway underneath him, rocking with the rhythm of his thrusts. He reaches up, scooping one of them into his hand and leaning down to kiss it.

Our bodies move together in perfect sync, every touch, every kiss, every breath pulling us closer to the edge. The pleasure keeps building and building until I’m right on the lip of the abyss.

His hand slides up to tangle in my hair, tilting my head back so he can meet my gaze again.

“Come for me. Right now.”

All I can do is nod as the orgasm breaks, the rush of heat and emotion so overwhelming it steals the breath from my lungs. My pussy clenches around his throbbing cock as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me.

“Alexei!” I scream his name into the night while he thrusts into me one final time. He grunts hard as he comes, filling me with his delicious warmth.

When we’re done, he collapses onto me. For a moment, neither of us speaks, our breaths mingling as we lie there, tangled and spent.

“I think I might hate you,” I say after a moment.

“Good,” he says, his lips brushing against my temple. “As long as you keep coming back.”

We stay like that for a moment, tangled in each other, our breathing heavy and uneven. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering on my cheek.

“You’re incredible,” he says, kissing me one more time.

Instead of responding, I just pull him closer, not ready to let go of the moment.

We lay there like that for a while, neither of us speaking.

Then, unbidden, words form in my head.

I love you.

I love you, Alexei.

They’re strange, alien at first. But the longer they linger there, the more I know they’re true.

Finally, I break the silence.

“We can’t keep sneaking around like this.”

Alexei chuckles softly. He lazily brushes a strand of hair from my face. “You say that as if you didn’t sneak out of your house tonight.”

“Okay, true. But you have to admit, I’m getting good at it.”

“One of these days, Isabella, someone’s going to catch you. And I won’t be there to help. Then what?”

I shrug. “I’ll figure it out, I always do.”

“Do you? Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve got a hell of a lot on your plate—a hell of a lot that you haven’t figured out. A baby, a war brewing, and that’s just for starters.”

I sigh, resting my chin on his chest so I can look up at him. “Yeah, well, I could say the same for you, Mr. Soon-to-Be-Married. What’s your plan, genius?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll figure it out.”

I laugh. “A wise woman said that once.”

“So I’ve heard.

“You’re really not scared, are you?” I ask.

“Of what?”

“Of all of this. Of the war. Of the wedding. Of the possibility of our families learning the truth about you and me.”

He pauses, his blue eyes locking on mine.

“The only thing that scares me is the thought of losing you, or this baby.”

The honesty in his voice takes me off guard, and I reach up to touch his face, my fingers brushing against the sharp line of his jaw.

We fall into a thoughtful silence. There’s so much to say, but neither of us knows how to begin. The idea of telling our families looms over us like a storm cloud. His brothers. My father. The Mancinis and the Ivanovs—it’s a powder keg waiting for a spark.

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeats.

I let out a shaky laugh. “But seriously, no more sneaking out for me? What am I supposed to do for fun?”

“You could try staying put for once,” he teases, his hand slipping to rest over my belly. “You’ve got other priorities now.”

The way he looks at me—soft, serious—makes my throat tighten. Before I can say anything, he leans down and presses a kiss to my belly, his lips lingering for just a moment. The gesture is so tender it nearly undoes me.

“Get some sleep, Devotchka . We have much to discuss. But we can do all of that in the morning.”

Part of me wants to argue, to tell him that we need to figure this out now .

“It’s just…”

Before I can say another word, he wraps his arm around me, pulling me close against his body. I rest my head on his chest, savoring his warmth, listening to the sound of him breathing.

Suddenly, arguing doesn’t sound all that appealing.

I find myself drifting off. His hand moves up and down my back, his touch hypnotic. My eyelids get heavy, and the world fades away.