Page 31 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

He studies me for a moment, eyes narrowed slightly like he’s reading between the lines of my heartbeat. Then—

“That’s what I like about you,” he murmurs. “Fear bores me.”

My breath catches, and for the first time I realize that whatever is happening between us…it’s not just captor and captive anymore.

It’s something else entirely. And that should terrify me more than anything.

But I don’t know what comes over me.

Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me—like I’m both a puzzle and the fire that might burn him alive. Maybe it’s the tension, the silence, the charged air crackling between us like something electric.

Or maybe I’m just losing my damn mind.

Because I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips.

It’s brief. Barely a brush. But it happens. And in that instant, I forget everything—why I hate him, why I should push him away, why I should scream.

His lips are warm.

Kaz’s eyes flash wide for a heartbeat. Just one.

And then he moves.

His hand snaps up, fingers wrapping around the side of my neck—not tight, not hurting, just holding—and he crashes his mouth onto mine like something feral has finally broken loose inside him.

The kiss is brutal. Desperate. Raw.

His mouth claims mine, and my body forgets how to breathe. His other hand slides up my thigh, fingers grazing the bare skin beneath the hem of the satin slip I stupidly wore, and I let out a sharp breath against his lips.

My hands move before I can stop them, skimming up his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like I’ve wanted this all along.

But then—

Kaz pulls away.

Fast.

Like the moment scorched him. Like he’s just remembered who we are.

He backs up, chest rising and falling, eyes dark and stormy.

I sit frozen, lips swollen, heart galloping, wondering what the hell I’ve just done. Wondering why…I want to do it again. What the hell has come over me?

He’s still breathing hard, staring at me like he’s one wrong move away from breaking something.

Then his voice drops—low, rough, unsteady.

“If I taste you again….” He swallows hard, jaw clenched. “I won’t be able to stop. And if I can’t stop, I’ll never be able to let you go.”

The words hit me like a slap and a caress at the same time.

He steps back, running a hand through his hair like he’s punishing himself, and adds, “So if you really plan on leaving someday—if you want your old life back—stay the hell away from me.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

He turns and strides out of the study, the door slamming shut behind him like thunder in my chest.

I sit frozen in the massive leather chair, lips still tingling, heartbeat still chaotic. My fingers are curled around the armrest like it’s the only thing tethering me to this moment.