Page 99 of Obsession of the Bratva

His expression informed me that I was impossible, and I found that incredibly endearing. I turned to look at him, and we both stared at each other. There was a slight stir on the baby monitor and both of us froze, wondering if Sophia had woken up, but the sound quickly faded and her soft breathing returned.

“See?” I whispered.

“What?”

“You’re terrified of her.”

His expression immediately became defensive. “I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I am exercising caution.”

“That’s fear with better branding.”

Nico looked genuinely offended, and I kissed his cheek. The offense vanished immediately. This was another thing that had not changed. Not even a little. He pulled me closer, and I ended up straddling his lap, our lips colliding with one another. Two years and one child later, my attraction for this man only seemed to grow with every passing day.

“Someone seems desperate,” he whispered as my kisses grew more fervent.

“Shut up and fuck me?” I asked, and that was all it took.

Within seconds, Nico had us stripped naked with his cock lodged deep inside my pussy. I was on top of him, but he was the one stroking me from below while I simply clung to him like there was no tomorrow. He began kissing my neck, marking every spot that he knew was sensitive as hell. No one knew my body better than Nico. Not even me.

“I’m close,” I whispered, and Nico’s thumb immediately shot up to my clit.

“Come for me.”

The command mixed with pleasure was all that I needed, and within seconds I was bursting through my orgasm, right on top of him. Nico climaxed simultaneously, coming deep inside me. We hugged each other, waiting for our breathing to slow down, just as the baby monitor twitched again and this time Sophia was actually awake.

“Time to be parents again,” I chuckled and pulled my clothes back on while Nico did the same and ran to get our daughter.

As soon as she was brought out, she demanded snacks. Then refused the snacks she herself had demanded earlier. Then requested a story. Then corrected Nico three separate times while he read it. I sat on the floor watching the entire thing unfold. Thoroughly entertained. Nico was less entertained.

“That’s not how dragons sound.”

Sophia crossed her tiny arms. “It is.”

“No, they don’t.”

“It does in this book.”

Nico stared at the page. Then at her. Then at me as if looking for support, but I offered none. He was on his own for this one.

“You are enjoying this,” he said to me, his tone accusatory.

“Very much.”

“Traitor.”

Sophia climbed into his lap, which was Nico’s equivalent of victory achieved and conflict forgotten. The negotiation was over. At least until the next one. Children were apparently tiny dictators, and nobody had warned us about that. Or perhaps they had, and Nico and I just hadn’t listened. The evening passed quietly after that between dinner and stories and a minor disagreement regarding vegetables.

Eventually bedtime arrived once again and this time Sophia surrendered without much resistance, which was a historic achievement.

Nico carried her to the nursery and I followed. Together we tucked her in. Together we listened to her insist that she was not tired. Together we watched her fall asleep less than five minutes later. When we finally left the room, the house felt unusually peaceful.

Soft. Quiet. Home.

The hallway lights cast warm shadows across the walls and Nico slipped his hand into mine. The gesture was automatic, as if our hands had always belonged together. I squeezed gently and he squeezed back. Neither of us spoke immediately.