Page 34 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

"Because I can't compare, I don't even get to call it unfair?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you keep acting like it."

The car went quiet for a second. Feodor didn't make a sound up front, but the tires on the road suddenly felt loud. I hit the switch beside the seat. The privacy partition rose, slow and steady, cutting the front from the back.

"You know what I thought about when I kissed you just now?" I pushed her down into the leather. "I knew who the hell I had in my arms. It was you. Not Isabella."

Elena's pupils trembled. She looked at me like she was bracing for another hit, but there was a flicker there too, something she couldn't hide fast enough.

"Kiryan."

"Stop looking at me like that." I pressed my forehead to hers, my thumb brushing over her swollen lower lip. "Unless you want me to keep going."

The first time I touched her, I'd said someone else's name. At the engagement party, I'd treated her like the reason my fiancée ran. After she moved into my house, everything I did had been meant to remind her she was only Isabella's lesser replacement.

But in that kiss, I hadn't turned her into anyone. I knew I'd held Elena. And the thing that snapped my reason wasn't the past. It was her fight. Her scent. Her, period.

She didn't answer right away.

The car glided through a turn. I watched her hand lift, slow, careful, and touch the cut by my ear where the scab had just formed. Her fingertips barely grazed it, like she was checking whether it still hurt.

"You always hurt me first," she said, her voice finally softening, "and then you say something that makes it impossible for me to hate you all the way."

That sentence tightened around my chest like a fist.

Her gaze dropped to my mouth. Then she grabbed my collar and kissed me first.

I caught her like I'd been starving. Her mouth moved against mine, desperate and angry and sweet all at once, like she was trying to prove something to both of us. I slid my hand up her thigh, bunching her skirt higher, feeling heat and trembling through the fabric. She inhaled sharply against my lips, the sound spilling into my mouth like a confession.

"Yeah," I murmured, teeth grazing her. "That's it."

She tried to swallow it down, tried to stay stubborn, but her body answered for her. Every little breath hitched. Every shiver told on her.

I couldn't stop. I didn't want to.

I hauled her up into my lap, turning her so she straddled me. The leather creaked. She grabbed my shoulders for balance, and her eyes widened like she'd just realized how far she'd gone.

"Kiryan," she whispered, like it was a warning.

"Too late," I said, and kissed her again, slower this time, letting her feel exactly what she'd started.

My hands roamed, sure and greedy, memorizing the curve of her waist, the tense line of her back. She melted in pieces, one breath at a time. When I slid my fingers beneath the edge of her panties, she gasped and pressed her forehead to mine, shaking.

"You were soaked," I said low, my voice rough. "Your body looked like it had been waiting for me."

Her cheeks flushed hard, and she tried to look away.

"Don't," I said, catching her chin. "Look at me."

She did, eyes glossy with humiliation and heat.

"Say I was wrong," I told her. "Say you didn't want this."

Her lips parted. No words came out. Just another broken breath.

"Good girl," I said, and worked my hand between her thighs with slow, deliberate pressure, teasing until her legs tightened around my hips. She whimpered, then tried to bite it back. I held her there anyway, right on the edge, making her feel every second of it.