Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(47)

He’s dangling the carrot. As much as I hate it, I know I’m going to cave. Sighing, I reach up to my neck, unfasten the clasp, and let it pool in the palm of my hand. I pass it over to him, not missing how the tiniest brush of his fingers against mine lets a tiny electric spark pass between us. Not quite physical and not quite imaginary. Just proof that there is more here than either of us counted on.

Misha takes it from me and holds it up to the candlelight to study it. His face is hard, brows furrowed, jaw clenched tight. It’s impossible to read him or know what he’s thinking.

But as the seconds tick past, I start to feel itchy without it. My neck feels bare, unguarded. I know we’re alone in here, but the crazy part of my brain keeps thinking that something is lurking in the shadows to come chomp on my throat while I’m not wearing my armor.

Misha flicks his gaze up to me. The flames dance across the peaks and valleys of his face. It’s unfair

how gorgeous he is, how cruelly, distantly beautiful, like a mountain I’ll never be allowed to reach the top of.

“It’s a piece of scrap metal,” he remarks.

“It’s magic,” I fire back immediately. “Protective amulet.”

His eyes shine with amusement. But there’s interest there. Curiosity.

It’s odd: when Anthony questioned me about the pendant, I told him I bought it at a thrift store. My reluctance to tell him the truth should have been warning enough. Deep down, I never really trusted Anthony.

But Misha hasn’t even asked, and I’m already rushing to tell him.

“And has your amulet protected you so far?”

I snort with unladylike laughter. Rather than be turned off, Misha’s hand tightens against my neck. “If you knew my life, you’d say it hasn’t worked at all. But… yeah, I’d say it has. I’d say it’s made all the difference.”

To my surprise, he nods slowly, like he agrees. Then he stands smoothly. My mind is still doing weird things, because it looks like he’s tall enough to scrape the ceiling of the greenhouse. I hold my breath as he saunters around the table and comes to stand behind me.

I thought the shadows were a threat—but Misha at my back is a thousand times scarier. I hiss in a breath when I feel his warm touch against my collarbones.

I only relax and exhale when the cool chain of my necklace follows. He pulls it into place around my throat and makes deft work of the clasp. I can breathe again now, with Clara back where she should be.

But Misha’s hands linger where they very much should not be.

He’s still touching my shoulders, my collarbones, the nape of my neck. His heat and presence consume me from behind. I sense him bend down, close enough to whisper.

“You’re wrong, you know,” he murmurs in my ear.

I should know better than to take the bait. And hell, maybe I do know better—part of me does, at least. Because when a man like Misha touches a woman like this, when he smells like this and whispers like this and gives gifts and dark promises like this, there’s only one way it can end.

That should scare me.

The problem is, it does the exact fucking opposite.

“Wrong about what?” I whisper.

He traces the curve of my jaw with one burning hot fingertip. “The amulet won’t protect you. Not from me.”





35

MISHA

Paige’s breathing hitches as I grab her and haul her to her feet.

We are supposed to be eating now, but I’m only hungry for one thing.

My wife.

A shiver rattles Paige’s body as she glances at me over her shoulder. Her skin has erupted in goosebumps despite the damp warmth of the greenhouse. I slide the zipper of her dress open, shove the garment down past her feet, and she shivers again.

The moment I unzip myself, my cock springs free and lands eagerly between her bared cheeks. I slide myself between them, and the tiniest of moans escapes her.

I put my hand on the back of her neck and coax her down against the table. Utensils clatter to the stone floor, but I ignore them and stare at Paige’s beautiful curves.

She’s porcelain and flawless, and fuck me, all I want to do is see how thoroughly I can break her.

Something tells me she can take more of my punishment than I’d ever suspect.

I slap her ass hard enough to leave a red handprint blooming against her fair skin. She jolts in surprise, a little squeal escaping her lips.

Then I grab the little scrap of fabric she calls underwear and rip it from her body like it offended me.

She yelps again as the fabric gives way.

She’d better hope that pendant protects her. Because having her bare ass at my mercy is pushing me beyond the point of no return.

My cock pushes in between her ass cheeks until I find her wet pussy. She’s dripping wet, and I slide inside her without even trying. Neither of us need to warm up. Every moment since we met has been foreplay for this one.

I fill her slowly, feeling her stretch to accommodate me.

It’s hard to restrain myself, because I want to ram into her. I want to consume her body and destroy her with my cock and leave no trace of her former life behind. I want to set fire to everything that was

Paige so I can build a new version of her from the ashes.

But I hold back, aware of the life she’s carrying inside her. A heartbeat that we created together.