Page 69 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

He kissed me again, slower this time, and it wasn't just hunger anymore. It was want, deep and ugly and honest, the kind that didn't care about pride. His mouth traveled along my throat, and I bit back a sound, fingers curling into the sheets.

"You were shaking downstairs," he murmured, his breath warming my skin. "Sitting there like you were waiting for a firing squad."

"I wasn't waiting," I lied again, because apparently lying was the only thing I'd been good at lately.

He gave a quiet, dark chuckle. "Yeah. Sure."

His hand slid down my side, then back up, holding me like he needed the proof that I was here. Every touch lit me up too fast, too bright. My body reacted like it had been wired wrong overnight, like every nerve sat too close to the surface.

He noticed that too.

"God," he muttered, voice going rough. "Look at you. You always got like this for me?"

I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him he didn't get to sound pleased. But my breath broke, and my hips betrayed me, and his eyes narrowed like he'd caught me in a lie.

"That's it," he said, praise slipping into his tone like poison wrapped in honey. "That's my girl. Take it. Let me have you."

The words should've made me angry.

Instead they made my head go light.

He kept talking, low and dirty and intimate, the kind of talk that made it feel like the room had shrunk down to nothing but his voice and my heartbeat.

"Pretty," he murmured when I arched without meaning to. "So damn pretty when you can't hold still."

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep quiet, trying to keep control, because control was the one thing I still wanted to believe I owned.

It didn't last.

The pleasure built too quickly, rolling in waves that made my vision blur at the edges. I gasped his name like it was a prayer and a curse at the same time.

Kiryan lifted his head, eyes locked on my face, watching every little crack in my composure like he collected them.

"Yeah," he said, voice thick with satisfaction. "There you are. That's the Elena I couldn't get out of my head."

My throat tightened. "Don't—"

"Don't what?" He kissed me again, stealing the rest of my protest. "Don't say your own name like it tastes good in my mouth?"

My breath broke. A soft, helpless sound escaped me.

He grinned against my skin like he'd won something. "That's what I thought."

I clutched his shoulders, careful with my stomach, careful with the secret, but everything else in me was falling apart. The release hit, sharp and overwhelming, and I couldn't stop it. I shook under him, nails digging in, trying to hold on to anything that felt real.

"Easy," he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine for a second. "I've got you."

The tenderness made my eyes sting.

He kissed my eyelids, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. "Good," he whispered. "So good. You're perfect."

I let out a broken laugh that sounded like it might've been a sob. "Stop saying things like that."

"Why?" His gaze held mine, steady and unapologetic. "You think I don't mean it?"

I couldn't answer.

He kept going, coaxing and relentless, and the sensitivity only got worse, like my body had no defenses left. Another wave built, and another, each one stealing a little more of me, until I was clinging to him, trembling, breathless, wrecked.