Page 26 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

Her eyes locked with mine, and she went still. I could feel her heart beating double time, and she pressed against my chest, silently asking me to put her down.

“How is this going to work?” she asked when her feet were on the marble tiles. “We don’t even get along.”

Yes, her shock was wearing off fast.

“We do get along,” I argued, making her smirk. “Just under the proper circumstances.”

I pulled her into the kitchen and opened the fridge to pull out two bottles of my favorite California microbrews. Cracking the caps off, I handed one to her and then tugged her down the hall into the media room, where I got some country music cranking on the massive stereo system. Completely unnecessary when music came out of my phone just fine, but the thumping beats helped set the tone.

We clinked bottles, and I toasted to the new Mrs. Fokin. Laurel’s eyes shone, and her cheeks blazed as she downed a chug, and then she was in my arms. I swung her around and pulled her back to me, her laughter giving me more of a buzz than the beer.

We danced until we were gasping for breath between laughter and exertion, and I grabbed the remote and clicked around until a slow song came on. Pulling her close, I swayed to the music, and she rested against my chest, smiling up at me.

“See?” I said. “I’m never wrong.”

Her smile puckered up, but she didn’t pull away, only rolled her eyes mildly. I leaned down as her lips parted and her eyes drifted shut. As soon as my mouth touched hers, I tightened my grip until she was flush with my body, her soft curves melting against me like she was made to be there.

My hands moved up her back, then down to cup that sweet ass I had been admiring in secret. So hot and soft and perfect. When my tongue darted out, hers was there to meet it, her soft gasp making me pull her closer. I wanted my bride so badly. Now.

She rose on her toes, and the feel of her tight nipples brushing against my chest as she ran her fingers through my hair made my cock spring to life. She froze, her hands dropping to my shoulders as she yanked her mouth away.

There was that same flash of fear in her eyes that I saw when the asshole was all over her, and it crushed me enough to let her go. She stumbled back, and to my relief, the fear was gone, replaced with fire that had me wanting to grab her close all over again.

Shaking her head, she stepped back further, her hand held out like a traffic cop. “Okay, that’s not part of the deal.”

“We didn’t really go over all the details,” I reminded her, slowly reaching for her waist. “I’m fine with making things real.”

Even more indignant fire flared as she shook her head. “Absolutely not. And this—” she waved her hand at the beers, the stereo, her own face—”This won’t be happening again any time soon, er, ever.”

I smiled at the little slip. Realizing what she said, she made an irritated noise and stormed off. “Guest rooms are on the second floor, take your pick.”

“Damn right I will,” she called over her shoulder.

I kept smiling as I watched the saucy sway of her hips, and the fact that she trusted me at least enough to fight back instead of shutting down. Now I just needed to figure out if I could trust her.

Chapter 15 - Laurel

Everything happened so fast, I wasn’t quite sure I wasn’t still in bed, dreaming to keep reality away. One minute I was sitting in Mik’s office, waiting for him to come in and tell me this was just a prank to get my mind off the attack, but instead I was saying I do. With red roses in my hands and my staid pants and blouse combo.

I never much imagined my wedding day when I was little. Why would I, when I understood what marriage was all about thanks to my parents’ stellar example? But I certainly wouldn’t have pictured this.

Then Mik told me I looked gorgeous, under his breath, for only me to hear, and suddenly I didn’t feel like I was about to pass out all over again. There was just something about Mik’s unopposable strength that grounded me. And I needed to feel like I was standing on solid ground now that it was certain that Rand hadn’t given up on me.

I let myself go along with everything, let myself believe this wasn’t the worst possible decision in the world. It seemed right because Mik was so sure, and I was grateful enough that he wasn’t asking me a hundred questions about Rand or the vineyard or why I lied, that when he told me I’d be helping him out, I jumped.

And came down to earth hard when the next kiss got way too heated. The peck in his office to seal the deal already stirred up memories of the night at the brewery. Recreating that fun atmosphere and feeling his hands on me helped further erase what Rand had done.

Then I felt that twitch. That rock-hard reminder that things were about to get out of control. And some wild part of me I didn’t know existed wanted to pull myself closer to Mik and let his tongue delve deeper, never stop holding on.

Maybe I was doing him a favor. Maybe he was a barrier to my ex, who was only going to double down now that he was so profoundly humiliated. But I couldn’t do something stupid. Or stupider than agreeing to this crazy scheme.

Would he let me go with good grace or would I have to fight, and lose, all over again? My heart was in my throat for a second, but this was Mik. He wasn’t Rand. He might have annoying control issues, but he’d never be like Rand.

I berated myself for the silly slip of telling him no more kisses would be happening soon, when I meant never. Never ever. This was a mutual aid agreement only, and temporary. Storming upstairs, I calmed down enough to take in my new surroundings.

The place was amazing, more luxurious than anything I’d ever seen, even on TV shows about the mansions of the super wealthy. I had been stunned by the outside, which was pure California with a red tile roof and creamy beige stucco, loads of balconies sprinkled with tropical plants, all shaded by soaring palm trees.

Inside, it was a mix of modern and classic, and since Mik hadn’t been in the country much longer than a few months, I imagined it either came with all the beautiful furniture and paintings or he’d hired a decorator. I could almost picture Chase and Todd drooling when I described the art deco chandelier, so over the top for the wide hallway upstairs, or the vast multi-colored glass one that hung in the two-story entryway.