Broken Bride (Belaya Bratva 2)

CHAPTER 11

Gavril

I worked my way down Naomi’s body, attempting to put my lips on every inch of her skin. It had taken me some time to apologize to her for my actions earlier.

I hoped that she took my apology personally, at least. The way she sighed was the same, but I could still feel the rift between us. She performed the motions, but something felt different.

As I moved down to her still-flat stomach, where our child was growing, I paused to meet her eyes. Yes. Something was definitely different.

She eyed me like a wounded animal. As if she didn’t know what I was going to do next or how I was going to react.

She looked at me like I was going to hurt her.

And my heart shattered.

I didn’t want her to be afraid of me. I wanted her to understand her place in my life, and fear didn’t belong in our relationship.

Fear led to mistrust. Mistrust festered into anger. And anger…

I needed Naomi to trust me.

I pressed my lips on her stomach, whispering to my son or daughter that was inside words in old Russian, a language I doubted Naomi knew. An ancient prayer of protection, of how they would always be cared for, and I was going to do my damndest to ensure that they were. It was my job to protect those that I loved, and that included the woman under me.

I could deny it all I wanted to, but no matter how pissed off she made me, or how terrifying it was to admit that, my feelings had not changed.

I was in love with Naomi.

I raised my head and she met my gaze, her lips parting as she stared at me. There were a million things I wanted to say to her, a million things I wanted to confess, yet the words wouldn’t come.

The damn fear in her eyes kept me from saying anything to her.

I knew I could confess the world to her, and she wouldn’t believe a word.

There was a time when I might have liked the fear. Indulged in it, even. But not anymore. Not with her. Now, I’d give anything to erase that fear from her eyes. To have her look at me like she did in St. Petersburg. Or on the plane. Or at any time before this latest wedge had been thrust between us.

The only thing I could do was resume my labors. I dipped my head back and found my way to the wetness between her legs. When I reached the crook of her thighs, I could smell her arousal.

I slid my finger down her slick center and felt a sense of normalcy return when she gasped at my touch.

“Gavril,” she moaned.

I clamped my hand on her hip and leaned down, teasing her with the tip of my tongue and tracing her outer lips slowly. I licked my lips before I met her gaze. Lust and desire swam in her eyes.

But fear still remained.

How long would it be before it no longer existed?

When I dipped my head again, I slipped my tongue through those folds and found her clit, already pulsating against my tongue. My cock throbbed between my legs, but I held off.

I had to replace fear with something—anything—before I could bury myself deep inside her.

Reaching up with my free hand, I inserted a finger inside her tight warmth as I teased her clit with my tongue. Moving in rhythm with each other, it wasn’t long before Naomi’s moans grew louder. Her body tightened around my finger, and her wetness ran along my forearms to the sheets underneath.

Lifting my head, I caught her in the throes of pleasure. Her back arched from the back, and her face was flushed. She was fucking gorgeous, and she was all mine.

She would never be anything or anyone else’s. I could pretend I didn’t give a shit about her, that she didn’t mean anything in my life, but at this moment, she meant everything.

Every fucking thing.

I pulled out my finger and rose above her, leaning down to press my lips against hers and letting her taste herself like I had just lapped up my favorite dessert.

“Open your legs for me, Naomi,” I whispered against her shuddering breath, wanting her to give me permission.

She let them fall open immediately and I settled between them, my cock nudging her entrance. I pulled back to look into her eyes, finding her watching me warily.

“Tell me you want this,” I growled, not moving an inch. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want this,” she said automatically, her hands sliding up my arms. “I want you.”

I wasn’t so sure I believed her. But it was enough for me, and I pushed into her, feeling her body accommodate my size.

Hell, it was like coming home every single time.

Naomi belonged to me.

And I belonged to her.

She wrapped her legs around my waist and took me deep until I couldn’t go any further.

“Oh,” she breathed, her hands clawing at my arms. “Please.”

I knew what she wanted, but I was determined to draw this out as long as I could, wanting to savor the moment. After today, I hadn’t been sure if she would allow me to have any moments with her, and while I could take any liberty I wanted to, I wanted her to be a willing participant.

She was my wife, for Christ’s sake. Why would I want to force her now?

So, I moved in long, slow strokes, savoring the way she tightened around me. Her cries of ecstasy brought me close to the breaking point, but I held myself in check. I wanted Naomi to want me as well. The sense of unease hadn’t diminished from my gut, even with her enthusiastic response.