Page 28 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession (Vadim Bratva #12)

“I don't deserve your forgiveness,” he continued. “I know that. But God, Elena, I miss you. Every day. Every hour. It feels like there's a hole in my life where you should be.”

I blinked back the tears that threatened. “Gastone...”

“I know it won't happen overnight,” he rushed on. “I know I have to earn back your trust. But please, give me the chance to try.”

I withdrew my hand from his, needing the space to think clearly. “I'm afraid,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Of what?”

“Of believing you. Of going back and trying again, only for something else to happen, and we're right back where we started.” I looked up at him. “I don't think I can survive that a second time.”

His face crumpled. “I understand. But Elena, I would rather cut off my own arm than hurt you like that again.”

The raw honesty in his voice and eyes made something inside me crack. A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

“Hey,” he said, rising from his chair to kneel before me, taking my hands in his. “Don't cry. Please.”

“I can't help it,” I sniffled. “I've been holding it all in for so long.”

“Let it out,” he encouraged, reaching up to brush a tear from my cheek. “Let it all out. I'm here.”

That was all it took. The dam broke, and I was sobbing, great heaving cries that shook my entire body. Gastone pulled me into his arms, holding me against his chest as I cried. For myself, for him, for Adriana and her unborn child, for the mess we'd made of everything.

When my tears finally subsided, I became aware of the damp spot on his shirt where my face had been pressed. “I ruined your shirt,” I mumbled.

“I don't care about the shirt,” he said, his voice rumbling under my ear. “Besides, I’ve ruined plenty of your dresses, haven’t I?”

The memories gushed back. All those times he tore those dresses, hungry to reach for skin, how starved I’d felt, not having him inside me, how my toes still curled at the thought of us together again.

I pulled back slightly to look at him. His face was so close to mine, his eyes full of an adoration I’d never seen before.

“I've missed you so much,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips.

I knew I should push him away, knew we still had more to resolve. But in that moment, with his arms around me and his heart beating steadily against mine, I couldn't remember why.

“I've missed you, too,” I admitted.

He leaned in, slowly, giving me every chance to pull away. But I didn't want to pull away. I wanted to feel his lips on mine again and remember what it was like before everything fell apart.

So, I leaned in and wrapped a hand around the back of his skull. His eyes widened, ever so slowly, and I parted my lips.

He groaned as he moved closer and his one hand curled around my cheek, his thumb resting on my jaw, and he pulled me in, so very slowly that time stood still. My heart raced in my chest, every nerve ending screaming for him, punishing me for denying what I needed most: him.

Our lips met in a kiss that was gentle at first, hesitant, like we were both afraid the other might break. But when I parted my lips on a sigh, something shifted.

His hands slid into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss further, and I melted against him at the feel of his fingers in my scalp.

“Elena,” he groaned against my mouth. “Tell me to stop if this isn't what you want.”

“Don't stop,” I breathed. “Please don't stop.”

That was all he needed. He swept me up in his arms as if I weighed nothing, carrying me to the couch. He laid me down gently, hovering over me with a reverence that made my heart ache.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. “So perfect.”

I reached up, pulling him down to me, needing to feel his weight, his heat. He came willingly, settling between my legs as we kissed again, slower this time, with intent.

His hands slid down my sides, finding the hem of my dress, pushing it up inch by torturous inch. His lips left mine to trail down my neck, across my collarbone, making me shiver.

“Stand up, please,” he requested, his voice rough.

Slowly, reverently, he pushed my dress up and over my head, leaving me in just my underwear. His eyes swept over me like he was memorizing every inch.

“God, I've missed this,” he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to my stomach. “Missed you.”

His lips traveled lower, kissing along the waistband of my panties, his hands gripping my hips when he hit the floor with his knees. I tangled my fingers in his hair, needing something to anchor me as desire pooled hot and insistent between my thighs.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of my underwear, dragging them down my legs until I could step out of them. And then his mouth was on me, hot and eager, making me gasp.

My knees nearly buckled at the first touch of his tongue. He held me steady with his hands on the backs of my thighs, his tongue working against me in ways that had me seeing stars. I writhed above him, one hand still in his hair, the other covering my mouth to stifle my cries.

He looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Let me hear you,” he said. “I want to hear what I do to you.”

His fingers joined his mouth then, one, then two, slipping inside me as his tongue circled my clit.

I cried out, unable to hold back as pleasure built within me, coiling tighter and tighter.

Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, his fingers curled, finding that spot inside me that made me see stars.

I clenched onto his shoulders, feeling as though I would fall and break and shatter with ecstasy as my legs threatened to give up control, and then, I came with his name on my lips, my body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over me.

He worked me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks subsided.

When I could breathe again, he stood, pulling me against him for a kiss. I could taste myself on his lips.

I tugged at his shirt. “Too many clothes,” I complained, and he laughed, a sound I hadn't heard in far too long. God, how I missed that sound.

“Let me fix that,” he said, stepping back to strip off his shirt, then his pants and underwear in quick succession.

He was magnificent, all lean muscle and taut skin that highlighted every detail of his magnificent tattoos. My eyes traveled down his body, lingering on his erection, hard and ready for me.

He pulled me back to the couch, but this time he sat, guiding me to straddle him. I positioned myself over him, both of us groaning as I sank down, taking him in inch by inch until he was fully seated within me.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in. Then I began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him filling me, stretching me.

His hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, making me arch into his touch. Our pace increased; need driving us faster, harder. His mouth found my neck, sucking, biting, marking me as his.

“You feel so good,” he groaned against my skin.

“ This feels so good,” I agreed, too lost in pleasure to deny it. In that moment, it was true. I was his, and he was mine, and nothing else mattered.

I forgot why I was so damn angry as to keep him away for so long.

I felt the tension building again, that familiar pressure that signaled I was close. Gastone must have felt it too, because one hand slid between us, finding my clit, circling it in time with our thrusts.

“Come for me again,” he urged. “Let me feel you.”

It was too much. This moment felt like old times, when all we had was trust for each other. It reminded me of every time he’d touched me, always gentle, always kind. I closed my eyes and felt all the pain roar through me, and then…settle. Like a calm.

All the good he had shown overrode all the bad. There were many more happy memories, memories like this and beyond, than that one ugly fight.

How could I be okay giving all this up? For one bad day, he had?

“Elena…” he raised his head and bit into my neck, gently. “God. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You hear me? Everything’s changed, Elena. You’re my everything .”

His words hit me right in my heart, and I gasped as he began to circle my clit with greater pressure. I wanted to tell him that we can work through it all, put the past beside us, but I couldn’t focus, for my entire body was a cavern of pleasure.

That spark burst alive in that one spot, needing to break free through my body, and I clenched my pussy, felt his cock fit just right, felt him thro,b and I shattered, crying out his name as my body clenched around him.

He followed seconds later, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as he spilled inside me.

We stayed like that, wrapped around each other, our racing hearts gradually slowing. I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling boneless, sated in a way I hadn't been in weeks.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured into my hair. “For everything.”

I pressed my fingers to his lips, stopping him. “Don't. You’ve said it plenty of times already. The rest of it is for me to work through.”

Hope flashed through his eyes, and he nodded.

We disentangled ourselves eventually, dressing in comfortable silence. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the wooden floors, Gastone turned to me.

“Come home,” he said simply. “With me. Tonight.”

I hesitated. This afternoon had been incredible, but was I ready to return to that life? To risk my heart again?

Looking at him, at the hope and fear warring in his eyes, I made my decision.

“Okay,” I said. “Let's go home.”

His smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. We packed my few belongings quickly, locked up the lake house, and headed for his car as darkness fell.

***

The drive was peaceful at first, his hand finding mine across the console, our fingers interlaced. We didn't talk much, both lost in our own thoughts, but it was a comfortable silence.

We were about twenty minutes from the city when I noticed headlights behind us, coming fast.

“Someone's in a hurry,” I commented, glancing in the side mirror.

Gastone frowned, checking his rearview mirror. “They're too close.”

Before I could respond, the car behind us accelerated, ramming into our bumper. The impact jolted us forward, Gastone's grip tightening on the wheel as he fought to maintain control.

“What the hell?” I gasped as the car hit us again, harder this time.

Gastone's face had gone deadly calm; that expression I knew meant trouble. “Call Dom,” he ordered, pressing harder on the accelerator. “Tell him we're being pursued on Route 9, heading into the city. He knows how to track my phone.”

My hands shook as I fumbled for my phone and passed on the message. Before Dom could ask a single question, another car appeared, pulling alongside us. I caught a glimpse of a gun pointed our way just as Gastone yelled, “Down!”

I ducked as the window shattered, glass raining down on us. Gastone swerved, the car fishtailing before he regained control.

“Who are they?” I cried, my heart pounding in my throat.

“I don't know,” he said grimly.

The car behind us rammed us again, and this time, we spun out, sliding off the road and down an embankment. Everything was chaos—the scream of tires, the crunch of metal, Gastone's arm thrown across me protectively.

And then everything went dark.