Page 32 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

She blinked and jerked out of my grasp. “It’s not just about the glasses, although they’re more important than you seem to think.”

“I think they’re very important. That’s why I got the best.”

“Just because they’re pretty and expensive doesn’t mean they’re right. Didn’t you hear me at all when I asked why you even kept me on if you’re not going to listen to my input?” She shook her head and flapped her hands. “Oh my God, this isn’t about the glasses. You stole my apartment from me.”

“You don’t need it,” I said coldly, though I was burning up. “You’re my wife, and this is where you live now.” Her fists balled up, and her whole body was trembling. She was so damn beautiful but still so angry and afraid. “Go ahead and hit me,” I said, holding out my arms. “As hard as you want.”

She looked like she might, and charged, but at the last second, she only slapped her palm onto my chest. “You can’t do whatever you want,” she said, looking up at me, chest heaving, biting her lip so hard I expected to see a bead of blood appear.

“You can,” I told her, reaching for her shoulders again.

Our eyes locked, her brows shot together. Every muscle in my body was fighting to drag her closer. “You can beat the crap out of me if you want,” I said. “We can talk about the fu—damn glasses. But you’re my wife. You’re staying my wife. And you live here.”

If she needed to smack me to feel better, I’d take it. If she needed to purge whatever that asshole did to her by taking out her anger at me, I’d welcome the blows. But why did she have to look so enticing, standing there as if she was trying to decide, trying to figure out if this was some kind of trap?

I moved my hand to the back of her head and gently gripped her hair. In one swift movement, I tipped her head back and ducked down to kiss her. Because I wanted her, because if that was what it took to show her she could let me have it, then it wasn’t much of a sacrifice.

Her lips were soft, and she tasted sweet, but it was over too soon when she shoved me away. And I let her.

“How the hell are you kissing me right now?” she asked.

“Because I wanted to.”

“You’re as bad…” she stopped, because she knew I wasn’t. She had to know that. I’d make her know it. “We’re in the middle of a fight,” she finished.

“Yeah, and I’m as pissed off as you are.”

“I doubt that,” she said.

“Then go ahead and let me have it. As angry as you make me, I will never hurt you, Laurel. So go ahead and fucking give me exactly what you want.”

Her hand raised, and I braced myself for the bee sting of her slap, but it never came. Instead, she made a growling noise and wrapped her hand around my head, gripping my hair and shoving her body against mine.

Our mouths slammed together, and for a moment, she was totally wild, maybe trying to bite me or show she was indeed in charge. My hands slid down her arms and around her waist, and she sighed against my lips.

As quickly as she launched herself at me, she relaxed, and the kiss became slow and almost languid, her body melting as she loosened her grasp in my hair to wrap her arms around my neck. For a long moment, I just savored her soft lips and the play of our tongues, holding her close.

For a moment, it was enough, then she rose up on her toes, and the feel of her ripe tits brushing against my chest made me dig my fingers into her hips. Her head dropped back, and I dipped my chin to trace my tongue down her neck, smiling as she shivered in my arms. Her ass felt amazing under my palms, and I lifted her higher, rubbing my stiffening cock against her soft curves.

“Mik,” she murmured, her eyes still tightly closed. As if she didn’t want to open them and face me. She didn’t say anything else, and I kissed her gently on the mouth.

Lifting her up, I carried her upstairs, neither of us saying a word. She held on, keeping her face averted from mine, her cheeks glowing pink. As much as I wanted to continue this, I took her to her room. As soon as I opened the door, she stiffened, and when I settled her on the bed, she found her voice again.

“You’re not leaving?” It wasn’t quite a question, and the indignant tone of her voice was almost the same as when she told me just how horrible my glasses were, but this time it wasn’t from anger.

My only answer was to drop onto the bed beside her and pull her back into my arms. With a satisfied groan, she twisted to get on my lap, bouncing once on my rock-hard cock.

“What’s happening?” she asked, smiling as I claimed her mouth again.

Zero to one thousand in seconds flat. There was no denying the chemistry that bubbled up between us, threatening to boil over. I recognized it the moment I saw her, even when she was just a pain in the ass. Especially then. It was confirmed at the brewery in Napa Valley and reignited again right now.

I pulled her neatly tucked blouse out of her skirt and slid my hands up her smooth back. One flick of my fingers and her bra was loose, and I trailed my fingertips up her sides to dip underneath the band to run my thumbs across her taut nipples.

My cock pulsed at her soft moan, and I did it again until her back was arching and her head fell back. I pulled all her thick, luxurious hair out of its ponytail, marveling that this was the first time I was seeing it in all its golden glory. Gripping a handful, I nipped at her throat, holding on as I leaned backward until she was straddling me on the bed.

Planting her hands on my shoulders, she finally made eye contact with me, blushed, then smiled. “I’m still mad at you,” she said.

“I might remember to be mad right back,” I said. “Not now, though.”