Page 31 of The Bratva’s Arranged Virgin Bride (Fokin Bratva #8)

He was gone again. Wouldn’t stay and fight, because he had nothing more to defend himself.

Kolya knew exactly what he had done and how badly it had hurt me.

Did he really not care? I stared at the space where he’d been standing, then my eyes fell to the broken easel on the floor, the two paint bottles that had rolled away after they struck him.

One had come open, and red paint stained the bamboo floor like a puddle of fresh blood.

Anger and sadness overwhelmed me as I turned to the profile painting we had both started, untouched since that passionate and wonderful night. He promised to finish it and show me how beautiful I was to him. Another lie. All of it.

How could I possibly get the kind of revenge I wanted when it was clear as crystal how little I meant to him?

I had to be the light of his life, the very beat of his heart, for my revenge to work.

I was the only one who felt like my chest was being torn open.

It was impossible to break the heart of a man who didn’t have one.

That hurt worse than the realization that I’d never make him suffer. The fact that maybe I didn’t want to anymore. That I would have rather just had him feel an inkling of what I used to feel for him.

I couldn’t stay in the studio anymore, facing the wreckage of my outburst. I didn’t want to stay in the house at all anymore, but there was no doubt in my mind that Kolya would find me wherever I was and drag me back.

I was his bride. I’d made that decision to walk down the aisle.

He made the decision that we’d remain married.

So, it was back to the guest room for me, my only refuge at the moment. When I got to our shared room to pack a few things, I was ready to keep fighting. Let him utter a single word about it. But he wasn’t in there, though there was a slip of paper resting on my pillow.

It was a hastily written note, telling me there was more trouble at the club and he would try not to be too late.

As if I cared. Was he trying to tell me he still wanted to talk it out, maybe even apologize?

At that point, what was he apologizing for?

He’d already offered to give me my money back and more, and the painting was lost forever.

More tears slid down my cheeks, but I decided to stay in the room for the night, just to see if he was telling the truth.

The next morning, he was fast asleep beside me, and I studied how peaceful and almost boyish he looked.

His dark hair was a stark contrast to our snowy white pillows, and the stern line between his brows was gone.

I didn’t let my eyes travel down his bare chest, or to the hand that rested close to my own pillow, as if he’d reached out to me in the night.

Instead, I snuck out of bed and took a shower. It was up to him to make the first move, whatever it might be, and then I’d decide if I was going to kill him. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

By the time I finished up my long, blazing hot shower, he was waiting for me.

Not doing something else, but waiting for me in his robe, with his arms crossed over his chest. The stern line was back, but melted away when he saw me.

Crossing the few feet between us, all he did was fold me into his arms and hold on.

It felt so right, but I held myself stiff, not about to get pulled in again.

“Go ahead and tell your family whatever you want,” he said into my hair. “I have nothing to hide from them.”

Could it be true? For once? Without answering, I nodded and pulled away as a bit of a test to see if he’d let me go.

He did, and for the life of me, I couldn’t decide why that was so upsetting.

Didn’t I want to see if he’d try to exert his control over me?

And then, when he didn’t, I was disappointed.

Did he forgive me? Did I even do anything wrong?

I was the one who was howling with rage the night before, but a little thing like getting an easel flung at him would be nothing to someone like Kolya.

Now, all I felt was confusion on top of my sadness.

It was only a couple more days until the next gallery show, and I wanted to see it through.

I had certainly put enough hard work into it, and I still needed to deal with Visarrion after the bargain we struck.

I could still bring them both down and be done with it.

If only my heart were in it anymore. It wasn’t. I didn’t want to leave, but didn’t know if I could stay, either.

Nik had warned me that I didn’t have much time, and once he realized that Kolya probably wasn’t plotting against them, there’d be no reason for my uncles not to snatch me away, thinking they were extracting me from a completed mission.

I was still standing there in a befuddled haze when I realized Kolya had left the room.

When I went downstairs, he was already out of the house.

All I could do was continue to carry on like normal and go to the gallery to make sure everything was on track for the upcoming show.

All day, I was listless and tired. Where was my drive?

Where was the anger that had been my closest friend these past few months? I just felt nothing, completely empty.

When I got home, there was a giant bouquet of flowers in the front hall. Bougainvillea, daisies, sunflowers, hydrangeas, a riot of bright colors. I leaned in to breathe in the scents, finding the card that read Still not as beautiful as you.

Okay, how could I not smile at something like that? As I tucked the card back in its holder and walked further into the house, delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen to greet me. Kolya was going all out.

I knew my painting was gone forever. Maybe it was time to accept it and move on. Maybe.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he called, grinning at me as I entered the kitchen.

He was wearing a snug black T-shirt and faded, worn jeans, nothing like the imposing businessman most people saw him as.

“I could probably eat,” I said, sitting down.

I could see the packaging from my favorite restaurant pushed aside on the far counter, and I pretended along with him as he dished out the catered meal on our own plates. I had already learned that his prowess in the kitchen ended with fancy sandwiches, but this was nice, too.

We dug in, making small talk, getting back on an even keel.

He didn’t outright apologize, but he was sweet and attentive, jumping up when our first bottle of wine was nearly empty to get another.

By the end of the meal, we were joking and getting along, and it wasn’t just because I let myself get a bit tipsy from the good wine. It was him.

Maybe I could push the past aside and leave it there. Not forgotten, but maybe that would come with time. Right now, he was looking at me in a way that made everything else seem very unimportant.

The last bites of dessert lay uneaten on our plates when he stood up and held his hand out to me. “Let’s go outside and look at the stars.”

My hand fell into his without any input from my brain. He pulled me close to his side, leading me out to the deck. Grabbing a blanket, we headed down to the sand, cool now that the sun was down. He spread it out and sat, tugging me down beside him.

I somehow ended up in his lap, and we laughed, his breath warm against my neck as he nuzzled me in the spot that always gave me goosebumps. Wrapping my arms around him, I cuddled in closer, enjoying the moment without a thought for the past or the future.

“I really do want you,” I whispered, so low he shouldn’t have heard. Not when he was feverishly kissing his way down my shoulder.

“I know,” he said.

Not smug, just honest. I slid my hand between us to press against the stiff rod pulsing under his jeans. “Feels like you want me, too.”

“All the damn time, little girl,” he told me roughly.

Then I was on my back, a blanket of blurry stars above me, his kisses moving along the neckline of my top.

His hand slid up my thigh, nudging my knees apart.

The zipper of my jeans slid down, and his fingers were hot against my skin.

I shuddered and sighed, lifting my hips for more of his questing touch. There was nothing I wanted more.

Just Kolya.

Clasping tight around his neck, I buried my face in his hair, curly and scruffy against my lips.

I breathed him in, recognizing the cologne from Milan, mingled with the spices from dinner.

His mouth claimed mine, and he tasted like the chocolate ganache we just shared.

Every one of my senses was more alive than they’d ever been, and I writhed under him, impatient.

Holding tight to his shoulders, I wrapped my legs around his hips and pulled him down flush with my body.

A groan rose out of both our throats as his thick cock hit my soft heat.

With a low growl, Kolya pushed up and leaned back, tugging my jeans and panties down my thighs and throwing them aside onto the sand.

His own were shoved down to his knees as he gazed down at me.

Even in the low light from the deck, I could see the wild hunger in his eyes, and I reached to smooth away the hair that fell across his face. I had to feel it between my fingers as much as I needed to see every inch of that chiseled jaw and perfect mouth.

The ocean crashed against the shore, and Kolya crashed down on me, pushing my legs high and wide. I moaned and nodded restlessly as he dragged his mouth along my throat. Once again, I trapped him with my legs, not about to let go.

“Hurry,” I whispered urgently. “Don’t make me beg.”

We were still on unsteady ground, and he didn’t make me plead for what I wanted most. Instead, he brushed a strand of hair from my face and kissed me tenderly on the mouth.

“I’m the one who’s about to beg,” he said. “I can feel your wet pussy just waiting to be fucked, and it’s driving me insane.”

I laughed and slapped his shoulder. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He shook his head, eyes serious and dark. “I always want this to last forever.”

Because he didn’t know if it would be the last time. I knew it like I knew my own name. I held on tighter, pulling him close. I couldn’t tell him it didn’t matter, that we had plenty of time—even the rest of our lives.

“Make it count,” I said.

And, oh, he did. His big cock was buried inside me with one hard thrust. Both of our shouts broke the still night.

He worked me up, brought me to a fever pitch, and still teased me with his fingers as he drove deeper and harder.

Like him, I didn’t want it to end, but I knew what he could do to me, and I wanted that too.

“Please,” I gasped. “You know what I want.”

He nodded against my shoulder and flipped over onto his back, effortlessly carrying me with him.

In one swift movement, my t-shirt was over my head, in another, my bra was gone.

As I rode him furiously, he tweaked my nipples to tight peaks, groaning as I slammed down onto his cock, then dragged myself away.

He clasped his big hands around my hips, helping me move faster.

I let my head fall back, my hair trailing almost to tickle his arms. Releasing me, he gripped a handful and pulled my face to his.

His tongue slashed between my lips as I moaned and whimpered, riding hard toward what I needed more than air.

His other hand slid from my hip to find my swollen, aching nub just as I slammed down hard, as if my life depended on it. Which it did, just then. He roared, holding me tight by the hair. I could hear my own shouts echoing back from the ocean as he let go, his hands falling to his sides.

I collapsed onto his chest, still pulsing around his cock. With a long, gusty sigh, I rested my cheek against his shoulder. The thump of his heart drowned out the waves, and I listened as it slowly came to a resting beat.

He rolled me off him, and we both stared at each other in the dim light, our faces an inch apart, naked under the hazy night sky. I closed my eyes, desperate to hold onto the moment.