Page 93 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

The screen goes dark, leaving Roman and me alone in the quiet of the study.

He closes the laptop and stands, crossing the room to where I’m curled in the corner. His movements are slower now, the hard edge from the video call softening as he approaches.

“You should eat something,” he says, crouching down in front of me. “You barely touched breakfast.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“You’re eating for two now.” His hand finds my knee, squeezing gently through the blanket. “The baby needs nutrients.”

I look down at his hand, then up at his face. “You’re different when you’re with them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lev, the elders... you become someone else. Harder.” I search his face. “Is that who you really are?”

He’s quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on my knee. “It’s who I had to become,” he says finally. “Siberia taught me that softness gets you killed. So I learned to be hard when I need to be.”

I reach out and touch his face, my fingers brushing along his jaw. He leans into the touch, his eyes closing briefly.

“You don’t have to put on a front with me,” I say softly. “You just have to be you.”

He opens his eyes, and something in his gaze makes my breath catch. He stands, pulling me up with him, and suddenly I’m pressed against his chest with his arms wrapped around me.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he murmurs into my hair. “Both of you. Whatever it takes.”

“I know.” I tilt my head back to look at him. “I never doubted that.”

His mouth finds mine. His lips move against mine with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.

I melt into him, my hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck. He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I open for him. A soft sound escapes my throat, and he swallows it down.

His hands drift down my back, settling on my hips. He pulls me closer, and I can feel the hard length of him pressing against my stomach. My body responds instantly, heat pooling low in my belly.

“Roman,” I breathe against his mouth.

He crowds me backward until the cool wall meets my spine and there’s nowhere left to go, his mouth never leaving mine. His fingers find the buttons of my blouse and slip them free one by one, until the fabric falls open and the first drag of his hands over bare skin pulls a gasp from me.

“We shouldn’t,” I manage to say, even as my body screams otherwise. “Not with everything that’s going on.”

“Let me take care of you.” His voice is rough against my neck.

“Just for a moment.”

His thumb brushes the underside of my breast. I shudder, pressing closer to him. He finds the clasp of my bra and undoes it with practiced ease, then his palm is covering my breast. His thumb rubs my nipple until it peaks.

A moan escapes me, muffled against his mouth. He swallows the sound, kissing me deeper, his tongue stroking against mine in a rhythm that makes my knees weak.

His other hand moves down my side and over my hip, tugging down my leggings. He slips beneath the waistband, his fingers tracing along the edge of my underwear. I’m already wet, and when his fingers brush against the damp fabric, I whimper.

“So responsive,” he murmurs against my lips. “So wet for me already.”

“Roman, please.”

“Please what?” He nips at my lower lip, his fingers pressing harder against the fabric. “Tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you.”

He makes a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan. Then his hand is yanking aside my underwear, his fingers pressing against my slick heat.