Resurrected King (Ruthless Bratva Brotherhood Book 2) Page 6

  Her confusion was understandable.

  It matched mine.

  I wasn’t confused by the physical attraction between us. There was no way to deny it, no way to pretend it didn’t exist.

  But I was sure that she, just like me, had decided to try to pretend that maybe if enough time had passed, we could both go along like that kiss had never happened.

  Like I didn’t want her with everything I had.

  And that was what I had intended to do.

  I had battled with myself, fought the impulse to come here, but in the end, it had been a futile task.

  Because I’d have an easier time denying myself my next breath than I would resisting seeing her again.

  I didn’t understand it, certainly didn’t like it, but my first glimpse of Adora’s face soothed me in a way nothing else could have.

  Proved I’d made the right decision.

  “No,” I finally responded, still watching her as curiosity sparked in her gaze.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I follow. You’ll have to clue me in,” she said.

  She shifted her body, her unspoken invitation to come deeper into her home one I eagerly accepted.

  I quickly took in the space, a neat, organized, homey-looking one-bedroom apartment.

  Nice enough, though it still pissed me off that the exterior door was broken, that access to her was so easy.

  “You were saying?”

  I turned, watched as she crossed her arms in front of her.

  I hadn’t thought the hour late but should have realized that she would retire early, especially given how tired she had been during lunch.

  Of course, if I had taken that into consideration, I wouldn’t have had the chance to see her like this, her breasts unrestrained, tantalizing, and equally important, stripped of her armor of an apron and a bright smile.

  But like this, I got to see what I sensed was the real her, and she lured me in, turned me on in a way few things ever had.

  “I was saying we hadn’t finished our conversation,” I said, pulling my thoughts back to the here and now and my eyes away from her breasts.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice low, her brow furrowed.

  “About what?”

  “Today when Howard showed up, I got frazzled and was not a good host.”

  “What is he to you?”

  She was momentarily taken aback by the question and likely the ferocity in my voice, and in truth, I was too. Even though the thought of him pissed me off. I had told myself it wasn’t my business, but the words had come anyway.

  “He owns the bakery where I work,” she said, her head tilted in what I could only call defiance.

  Not something I had seen from her often, and I wondered how many people got to see more than the friendly facade she so often put up.

  An interesting question, but not one I would let deter me from my path.

  “What else is he?”

  My eyes were locked on hers, but she didn’t flinch.

  In fact, she stood taller, her defiance unmistakable now.

  “If there’s something you want to ask me, be direct and get to it.”

  “I was already being direct,” I said.

  She scoffed. “And I already told you he owns the bakery where I work. And he was a friend of my,” her breath hitched, “family.”

  There was something there, something that had nothing to do with Howard, but I didn’t pursue it, and instead stayed focused on the matter at hand.

  “And it’s all?” I asked.

  She knew exactly what I was getting at but seemed determined to make me say the words.

  Which was of no consequence.

  I had no problem being direct, especially not when it came to this.

  “What makes you think that’s any of your business?”

  She was trying to deflect, maybe because she didn’t want to discuss it, or maybe because she, like me, didn’t enjoy being pushed, didn’t like people probing.

  I didn’t care.

  I didn’t answer her question and didn’t ask mine again.

  Eventually, she sighed, dropping her arms, the sway of her breasts making my groin tighten, though I ignored the reaction.

  “A long, long time ago, Howard and I dated for a bit. Nothing serious.”

  “And nothing ongoing?”

  “Did you not catch the ‘long time ago’ part of that statement?”

  Her eyes flashed, narrowed, but she quickly recovered, retreated to the gentle, pleasing expression she so often wore.

  One I wouldn’t allow myself to be fooled by.

  “I caught it, but I’m asking again,” I said.

  She huffed out, shook her head slightly. “No. What Howard and I have is strictly a business relationship.” She glared at me before again smoothing her expression. “Satisfied?”

  “Not yet.”

  I took two steps toward her, and before I could give myself time to change my mind, I cupped the side of her face with my hand and brought my lips down on hers.

  The first contact of her soft skin against my palm made me shiver, and the feel of her lips against mine and her warm breath caressing my face pushed me further.

  I’d been determined to not ask the question, even though I had fought with myself about what I wanted the answer to be.

  It had been clear to me that there was history between them, and I couldn’t rule out the possibility that there was more.

  I hated the very thought but told myself it would rescue me.

  I’d come here, she would say that she belonged to Howard, that our kiss had been a mistake, and I could get back to my life.

  But when she told me she didn’t, that fantasy was gone.

  It had been futile, ridiculous even, to think that I could resist the way I was drawn to her.

  Something I knew would only intensify after I kissed her.

  But not kissing her, not touching, her was impossible.

  She moaned softly, and I took advantage, deepening the kiss, pushing my tongue into her mouth.

  It was my turn to moan when I tasted her, the mint of her toothpaste, the sweet flavor that was just her.

  She lifted her hands to my shoulders, and I grasped her hip, squeezing the full flesh that was a perfect in my hands, pulling her body flush against mine, knowing there was no way she could miss how hard I was for her.

  She didn’t, and I almost came when she pulled me even closer and rocked her hips against mine, creating a delicious friction.

  I broke away, desperate to touch her but wanting to maintain some control.

  She looked up at me with soft eyes and swollen lips.

  She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

  “I hadn’t realized that was a part of our conversation,” she said, her breathing jagged.

  “Which is why I had to come back,” I responded, my own breath uneven.

  She tilted her head, her question clear in her eyes.

  I stepped closer, closing the space I had just recently opened, trailed my fingers along her cheek, and was rewarded by a soft shudder.

  But I didn’t touch her more, didn’t dare risk losing control.

  “You seemed convinced I was here earlier because someone sent me.”

  She shrugged, her attempt at nonchalance failing. “It’s reasonable. Erin’s my friend, and Sasha is yours.”

  “Sasha and Erin have nothing to do with me being here,” I whispered, my voice rough.

  “Why then?” she asked.

  Adora

  I shouldn’t have asked that question.

  Wasn’t sure why I did except maybe I was so tired my defenses were down.

  Or I was so mixed up by my attraction to him, I’d taken leave of my common sense.

  His eyes flashed, and he chuckled, the humor of the moment unexpected but feeling right.

  He brushed his lips against mine, the touch light, barely there, but there was so much in it.

  I pulled back and lo
oked into his eyes, searching for something.

  What, I didn’t know.

  And then I stilled as he moved closer to me, then closer. And whatever worries or reluctance I might have felt faded away.

  When he kissed me again, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I had been holding.

  That exhale felt like so much more, like I had been irrevocably changed in the space of one breath.

  And when he slipped his tongue between my lips, all thought, all reason, fled.

  There would be repercussions for this. I knew that this thing with Mikhail had changed me, but despite all that, I needed this.

  Wanted it with everything I had.

  He stroked his hand against my cheek, his thick fingers warm, rough, driving me to the edge of reason with those few gentle touches.

  Then he went lower, gripping my breast in his full hand, his palm rough against my nipple.

  My sex fluttered, a neediness that I’d never felt coming over me.

  In those few minutes, Mikhail had given me more pleasure than I’d experienced, and I wanted so much more.

  My eyes had drifted closed, but I opened them when I realized my feet were no longer on the floor.

  I laughed despite myself, stunned that Mikhail was carrying me and even more stunned that he was doing so with ease.

  I’d seen that Mikhail had an amazing physique, but his display of strength was something I hadn’t expected.

  But then again, everything about him was unexpected.

  He entered my bedroom and set me on the floor, letting my body slide against his.

  The friction of his solid muscle, my softness, and our clothes made me weak in the knees, and I moaned.

  He lifted his lips in a soft smile, and I felt light, airy.

  And mischievous.

  I let my fingers slide down his chest, down his flat stomach, and then gripped his hardening cock.

  Gave him a gentle squeeze, which drew an exhale from him.

  His face was soft, but his eyes glittered with desire, the contrast reflecting what I felt.

  He kissed me softly again but then pulled away. He moved my hand from his hardness, and I furrowed my brow.

  “This is about you,” he whispered, his voice rough, soft, perfect.

  I let my arms fall to my sides and waited, anticipation making me nervous and turned on, so much so that I felt like I was floating outside my body.

  That anticipation built to a fever pitch, one that only went higher when he pushed my bottoms down my legs and then pulled my T-shirt over my head.

  Me being naked while he was completely clothed left me feeling exposed, vulnerable. But it also revealed how much I trusted him.

  I was laying myself bare before him, revealing myself to him in a way I seldom did.

  Trusting he wouldn’t let me down.

  And he didn’t.

  He gripped my face tight, his forearm taut with corded muscle. He kissed me deep, hard, the gentleness of his kisses before giving way to something more urgent.

  When he broke the kiss, he pushed me down on the bed. I stared up at him, his height, his body intimidating and also irresistible.

  I watched as he slowly lowered himself until he was on his knees, my thighs bracketing his waist.

  My pussy clenched, wetness flowing from me freely. I only got wetter when he traced his fingers up my thigh, down the other, all the while bypassing the place I wanted him to touch most.

  But he didn’t.

  He stroked my thighs, my stomach, tweaked my nipples with his thick fingers.

  I gripped my covers tight, feeling like I was being battered by sensations.

  “Mikhail!” I cried out when he leaned forward and sucked my nipple into his mouth.

  At the same time, he pushed one thick finger into my pussy, and the twin sensations had me rocking off the bed.

  Not that I could move that much.

  I was no lightweight, but Mikhail’s hand on my thigh held me in place and gave me no retreat.

  He sucked my nipple hard then switched to the other and gave it the same treatment as he fucked me with one, then two, then three fingers.

  I was a wet, sticky mess, but I was beyond embarrassment, even when he began kissing down my body to settle his head between my thighs.

  I looked down, the decadent sight of his head between my legs, the feel of his breath on my sex making my heart race and then freeze when he drove in, attacking my pussy with a ferocity that was as unexpected as it was pleasurable.

  He licked, kissed, sucked every inch of my sex, teasing my clit and then pulling back, pushing me higher and higher and higher, but never letting me go over.

  I felt like I was out of my mind with the pleasure, my hand so tight against his shoulder that I worried I would bruise him.

  But I clamped down harder when he sucked my clit into his mouth and thrust his fingers inside.

  I shattered and came so hard I thought my chest would explode.

  He held me through that climax, gently nibbling and sucking me until my breath was even.

  When he finally pulled away and looked at me, I couldn’t resist the impulse to kiss him.

  My sex clenched again when I tasted myself on his lips, and he moaned into my mouth, the sexual high I’d just reached rising again.

  Mikhail broke away, his face rigid with determination.

  Mikhail

  “Does that answer your question?” I said.

  She blinked, her eyes wide, soft.

  And somewhat confused.

  I brushed my lips against hers, not daring to kiss her more deeply nor to touch her again.

  Because I knew what was to come, and I wanted to savor every moment just as I’d savored tasting her.

  I realized that for the first time, I actually had something to look forward to.

  “What question?” she finally asked.

  “Why I’m here,” I said.

  She didn’t answer immediately, and I decided to give her an out.

  “I would have thought it would be clear by now, but I guess not,” I said, shrugging, mimicking her from earlier.

  Her eyes were locked on mine, the brown orbs wide, dark, almost liquid with emotion.

  I breathed out deep, knowing I was doing something I shouldn’t but powerless to stop myself.

  “That night in the alley. After the reception. Earlier at lunch. Now. All those times were because I wanted—needed—to see you,” I said.

  She didn’t respond, and I didn’t either, letting the words hang there before I took another deep breath.

  “I’m not good at this shit, romance and all that, but even though I can’t explain it, I can’t deny it either. I feel something for you, a connection. I know it’s real, and I want to explore it,” I confessed.

  “Me too,” she whispered, the speed of her response, the firmness of her soft voice, lifting my spirit.

  I’d suspected that I wasn’t in this alone, but what did I know?

  I knew looking at Adora was like a jolt of electricity, something that made my heart beat faster, knew that being with her made me feel alive.

  If she felt even a fraction of that, there was no way I could give it up.

  “Good,” I said.

  I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight, her soft curves perfection against my body, her breath against my neck, her hands on my back actually holding me closer, making my heart pound.

  After a long moment, I pulled away, knowing that if I didn’t leave now, I’d lose my resolve.

  I reached into my pocket and then pressed a scrap of paper into her hand. “My number. If you need me.”

  “What if I just want you?”

  I swallowed, initially unable to respond, but then I nodded.

  “That too.”

  Then I pressed my lips against hers, the kiss rough, quick.

  “Sweet dreams,” I said.

  Then I turned and left.

  Eleven

  Adora

  The next m
orning, which for me came well before dawn, I did something unusual.

  I lingered, lying in bed, the scrap of paper Mikhail had left in my hand, the feel of his body against mine, his lips against my most intimate flesh, seared in my memory.

  I turned the card over in my hand again and again.

  I’d already memorized the number, but touching the paper made everything that had happened last night feel more real.

  It would have been easy to allow myself to pretend that it wasn’t.

  Safer too.

  Safer to think I had mistaken the intensity in his eyes as he’d asked about Howard, his possessiveness as he had kissed me.

  The tenderness of his touch.

  His vulnerability when he confessed that he wanted to see me.

  Disregarding them all, making them less, even pretending they hadn’t happened would have been easier for me and for the equilibrium that I cherished.

  Because if nothing else, Mikhail threw me off balance. He seemed to effortlessly wreck the carefully constructed walls I had put up.

  The man was dangerous, dangerous to me and the life I had built, and if I had any sense, I would never see him again, certainly wouldn’t pursue the connection that he had been so right about.

  But I’d never claimed to be smart, and I knew that if he didn’t come back soon, I’d call the number.

  Knew that I was powerless against the emotions he stirred in me, much as I might hate them.

  Still, it was hard to pretend I wasn’t giddy as I dressed and prepared for the day, the exhaustion ripped away by memories of him.

  I made it downstairs half an hour later than usual, but I wasn’t frantic.

  No, today I approached the bakery with unadulterated joy, happiness, excitement.

  Feelings I often felt when I was there but this time intensified by him.

  So much so that I didn’t care that my proof loaves didn’t rise, or that I had forgotten to soften the butter overnight.

  Those little things that would have set me off before didn’t even penetrate.

  Instead, I passed through the day floating on cloud nine, the smiles that came naturally that much more intense, that much happier and genuine.

  And though it discomfited me on some level, I didn’t allow myself to question it.