Page 20 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“It should bother me,” she says finally.

I set down the file and turn the chair to face her. She’s close enough that my knees bracket her legs, and I know I could pull her into my lap if I wanted to.

“Vera.”

She looks down at me. Her pupils are dilated and there’s color high on her cheeks. She’s breathing faster than she was a moment ago.

“This is a bad idea,” she says.

“Probably.”

I slide my hand higher, over her thigh. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat. Vera moves forward, closing the distance between us. Her hands come up to frame my face and then she’s kissing me hard, her tongue sliding against mine.

I grip her hips and pull her closer, settling her between my thighs. The chair creaks under our combined weight but I don’t care. All I can focus on is the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against mine.

Her fingers slide into my hair and tug, hard enough to sting. I make a sound that’s half growl, half groan, and she responds by kissing me harder. She’s trying to devour me, to consume every bit of distance between us.

My hands find the hem of her sweater and slide beneath it. Her skin is warm, and when I touch the small of her back she arches into me with a gasp.

Mine.

I’m about to pull her into my lap when she breaks the kiss. Vera stumbles back like I’ve burned her, her chest heaving and her lips swollen.

“I can’t,” she says. “I can’t do this.”

Then she’s turning, heading for the door.

I’m on my feet before she reaches it. I move past her and plant myself in front of the door, my hand flat against the wood.

“Move,” she says.

“No.”

Her eyes finally meet mine, and there’s fury in them. “What do you want me to say, that I’ve been thinking about it?” She hums. “Fine, maybe it’s true. Happy now?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then what do you want?” She yells. A hand comes up to slap my chest, but I barely even feel the sting.

“I want you to be honest. With me and with yourself.” I reach out and tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear. She flinches but doesn’t pull away. “You’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you. That doesn’t have to complicate things.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. “You killed my husband, Roman.”

I understand that. The guilt that comes with wanting something you think you shouldn’t have. I felt it every time I thought about killing Dmitri, though I shoved it down deep.

Then he died and the guilt evaporated like smoke.

She looks at me properly now. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears and her mouth is still swollen from kissing me. She looks young and vulnerable and so goddamn beautiful it makes my chest tight.

“You’re a bastard,” she says.

“I know.”

She shakes her head. “Move, Roman. Please.”

This time I step aside. She reaches for the door handle but pauses before opening it. “This can’t happen again,” she says without looking at me.

“If you say so.”