Page 139 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

Her hand faltered. I caught her wrist gently with my right hand, guiding her back, not letting her stop.

"Don't," I said. "Don't you dare stop now."

Her breath stuttered. "You're really going to say that to me?"

"I'm going to say a lot worse," I told her. "You're the one who started it."

"I dropped a sponge," she said, like she could pretend this was an accident.

"And then your fingers slipped," I said. "Right where you wanted them."

Her eyes flashed. "You're unbelievable."

"You're brave," I corrected. "And you're driving me insane."

She stared at me like she didn't recognize me. "I've never seen you like this."

"Yeah?" My mouth curved, tight with need. "You should've. This side's yours. It has always been yours."

Her breathing turned shaky. She leaned in, close enough that steam and perfume and heat wrapped around me all at once. Her free hand pressed to my chest, right over my heartbeat.

It hammered against her palm.

"Still think this isn't medical?" I asked.

She huffed out a laugh, nervous and bright. "Shut up."

Her fingers sped up, and I sucked in a sharp breath, head tipping back. The harness tugged, the wound protested, but the pleasure swallowed it whole. I'd taken pain for years without flinching. This made me shake.

"Elena," I warned, and it sounded like her name belonged in a prayer I didn't deserve.

She watched me come apart like she couldn't look away.

And then it hit, fast and hard, ripping through me before I could even pretend I had control. My hand clenched on the chair; my other hand closed around her wrist, not stopping her, just holding on like she was the only thing keeping me upright.

I rode it out on a broken breath, jaw tight, eyes shut for one second too long.

When I opened them, she stood frozen, staring at her hand like it belonged to someone else.

My laugh slipped out, hoarse and helpless.

"This isn't part of the standard patient-care routine," I said, looking at the mess on her hand, unable to stop myself.

She lifted her chin, cheeks still red. "You're not a standard patient."

"Then I'm going to need a shower tomorrow, too."

"Tomorrow the nurse comes back."

"I can extend her vacation."

A towel smacked me right in the face.

"You wouldn't dare."

I laughed hard enough it tugged my wound. She lunged forward and pressed her hand to my shoulder immediately, eyes flashing with worry. Our faces ended up too close, breaths tangled.

"My turn," I said.