Page 19 of Surprise Bratva Daddy
“What was on the flash drive?” he asks, raising a challenging eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “You could’ve asked me anything, and that’s what you came up with? Come on, at least pretend to be interested in my boring little life.”
He leans in, his face close to mine, and puts his hand on my bare thigh. He runs his fingers slowly along my leg, tracing a line up and down. The sensations from his touch are intense, and my breath catches in my throat. He leans his other arm on the wall behind me, and then he's completely surrounding me.
His masculine scent fills my nose, and the heat from his body is intoxicating. It's hotter than the water. It's hotter than anything I've experiences, and yet the burning feeling is like heaven even though I know I'm in hell.
"Let me ask you a question, then, something unrelated to all this business," he says, his voice low and husky.
I can't find the words to reply, but I manage a nod.
"Why were you living in that house all by yourself? Don't you have any family, any guys in your life?"
"Neither," I admit.
"Why not? You're smart and beautiful. On second thought, maybe that's why. Nobody is good enough for you, are they?"
His words are surprisingly insightful, but that doesn't make them any easier to hear.
"I don't know," I reply. "Maybe."
"What would it take, Monroe? What would make you happy? Tell me."
"A man who respects me and makes me feel safe," I reply without thinking. The answer is immediate, as if it was lurking just under the surface of my consciousness, waiting to burst out.
He laughs softly, shaking his head. "There's only one way to get that, and you're already experiencing it."
"And what's that?"
"Me," he replies, moving his face closer to mine.
I can barely breathe, but I shake my head. "You don't respect me. You don't make me feel safe."
"How could I respect you more? How could I keep you safer? You're in my home, the most secure building in the entire city, surrounded by guards and protected by me. I'd say you're doing pretty well for yourself," he argues, his lips only inches away from mine.
I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it's hard to do. It feels like I'm trying to choke down a tennis ball. Something in my stomach is buzzing, and between my thighs there's a pulsating feeling that's growing in intensity.
"Kiss me," Zane demands, his lips brushing against mine.
My heart is beating so quickly that I can't even count the number of times it's pounding in my chest. This is what I've been missing, the thing I didn't know I needed until now. He's right that nobody has ever been good enough... until now.
I kiss him, throwing my arms around his neck and pulling him into me. His mouth opens, his tongue pushing into my mouth. The warmth of his body, his skin, his mouth, his tongue, all of it is perfect.
Zane's strong arms wrap around me, holding me tightly against him. Our bodies are pressed together, and the hardness of his muscles feels amazing. It feels like safety, like comfort, and like passion. It's all wrapped up in one, and I never want to let him go.
"Come on," he growls, getting out of the hot tub. "We can't do this in the pool."
I laugh a little, climbing out after him and letting him lead me to the lounge chairs. There's a thick towel sitting on one of them, and he picks it up and wraps it around my shoulders before guiding me down.
13
Monroe
Iremember the first time I drank alcohol. I was in high school, and my friends and I had slowly collected and pooled together samples of booze from our parents’ cabinets at home. I added this cheap wine that my mother used to drink, but ironically, I think that’s what made the whole concoction palatable.
We dared each other to drink some on a half-day after school, and I was the first one to give in and do it. Being the scrawny teenager I was at the time, I got drunk on the equivalent of a few shots.
Losing control like that was both thrilling and otherworldly. It’s difficult to describe to someone who has never experienced it before, but it’s the only thing close to what I’m feeling now as Zane pulls the string on the side of my bikini, unwrapping me like a guilty little treat.
