Page 103 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

I reach for her as if the old version of us is breaking through. “I never stopped wanting you by my side.”

“Only at your side?” she asks.

“At my side. Under me. On top of me,” I growl and back her into the hallway that leads to the stairs. “Your husband, the pakhan, needs to fuck his wife.”

Chapter 33

Sandrine

With Violet occupied, Kirill and I sneak away to my bedroom. Up against my closed door, he slides his tongue past the seam of my lips.

“Open for me,” he demands. “God, I missed you. I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”

I break the kiss. “You pushed me away this past week.”

“I worried I overstepped in my office before you were ready.”

“And now you think I am?”

“I can feel it.” He rubs against me.

“I want to remember us so much, Kirill,” I whisper.

“Let’s make new memories.” He kisses the edge of my mouth. “I’ve had to bury much of what I remembered and loved about our sex life to survive these years without you.”

That breaks my heart.

Kirill’s breath fans my neck. “Feel that? Feel how much I want to start making those memories?”

I feel ready to pass out. Which would probably alarm him, and I’ll end up back at Norridge.

“Honestly, you make me so lightheaded.” I struggle to breathe.

“Buckle up. I plan to take my time and make sure you see stars.” He holds my face in his hands and kisses me.

His tongue swirls around in my mouth while he rubs against me. Shivers run down my spine, and my nipples tighten.

Tonight we’re crossing a line. Returning to the people we should have been all along, but swore we’d never be again. Will I still like him? Will I still like me, giving myself to a man I’ve only known technically for a few weeks?

A man who admitted to killing his father?

But it feels so right. My body remembers him. Remembers us.

He keeps kissing me, and all other thoughts fly from my head. God, this man knows how to kiss. Our tongues dance in a rhythm that anchors deep inside me.

I swear, I remember him now. The old me is kissing him back.

“Christ,” Kirill murmurs against my mouth. “Take off my shirt.”

I start to slowly undo the buttons, deftly popping each one free. A carved V disappears into his pants. Oh my God, am I ready for this?

With the shirt open and then gone, I step back to admire his smooth torso, round pecs, defined abs, and lots and lots of tattoos. But also, the scars on his back and shoulders. I kiss each one, my hands not leaving his skin.

“Fuck, yeah, kiss my chest.” He takes my hand and rests it over his zipper. “Feel me. I’ve not stopped thinking about that blow job. I’ve wanted to come to your room every night and show you what you still do to me.”

“I wish you would have,” I admit. “I’m ready, Kirill. To be your real wife. If this is the life you still want us to have.”

“Fuck, I want that so much.” He keeps his eyes fixed on mine.