Sasha: Chapter 42

I sat on the crappy coffee table, protesting at my weight, in this crappy motel room.

Branka was right, this fucking place was lame. But keeping her with me was more important than the luxury at this moment.

The door to the bathroom opened and she came out. She seemed upset. Without a word, she extended her hand and tapped her foot impatiently. I handed her the clothes and watched her get dressed.

Fuck, she had a beautiful body. One of those timeless, hourglass figures that seduced effortlessly. I watched her round ass bend over as she pulled on her pants, then quickly put her shirt on. Her boots followed. Her hair was up in a low ponytail, I assumed so she’d not have to worry about it with a motorcycle helmet on.

My eyes narrowed at Branka. “What’s the matter?”

Her face was pale and ghosts stared back at me through those stormy eyes. It didn’t escape me how her bottom lip quivered as she desperately kept it between her teeth.

Branka’s hand pushed a strand of hair out of her face as she glared at me.

“I was kidnapped.” I raised a brow in a silent ‘So’ which seemed to have pissed her off even more. “I’m supposed to be married and off on my honeymoon yet here I’m stuck with you, being dragged to who knows where.”

I noticed the small tremor in her hand as she tried to push that unruly piece of hair back again. Something had upset her.

My eyes roamed over her outfit. Jeans. White t-shirt. Red leather jacket. Black boots. She looked good. Like a biker chick. My chick.

“If it helps, think of this as our honeymoon,” I said, hoping to reassure her.

I failed.

“I want to murder you,” she hissed.

“Are you asking me for my knife so you can murder me?” I questioned coldly. If she wanted to kill me, maybe I’d let her. After she admitted she wanted my cock as much as I wanted her pussy. The two of us together made sense – like the sky and clouds. Oceans and beaches.

She tilted her chin in defiance. “You gonna give it to me?”

My fucking brain forgot the knife and immediately went to an X-rated meaning. My cock took over and images flashed through my brain, giving it to her while she was ass up, head-down on my bed, begging me to fuck her harder and faster.

Blyad.

“Come here,” I ordered.

Her legs obeyed before she realized it and she stopped with an incredulous look. Reaching out, I took her hand and pulled her between my parted knees. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face into her belly.

Fuck, I wanted her. So fucking much. All of her. I wanted to feast on her, thrust my tongue inside her pussy, and kiss her with violence that would rattle us both and leave us gasping for air.

“Tell me what upset you, kotyonok.”

All I wanted was to make her happy. To have her melt in my arms. To see her smile.

Her lips thinned, a sure sign she wouldn’t tell me. My hands went around her and gripped her ass.

“Do I need to bend you over my knee and spank you?” I threatened softly. A shudder rippled through her and I watched her face for any signs of fear. Confusion. Anger. Sadness.

She stared at me, letting me drown in the stormy rain clouds. I pressed my mouth to her belly. Even through her clothes, I could feel her soft skin. I inhaled her scent deep into my lungs, letting it wash over me. She pushed her fingers through my hair, gripping the strands.

I pushed my hand between her thighs. Even through the jeans, her heat seared. I pushed her shirt up, expecting her to stop me. She didn’t. My mouth pressed on her soft belly and her soft moan filled the space. Growling, I nipped her soft skin. It pissed me off that I craved her so much.

I snapped the top button of her jeans open, then skimmed my mouth lower. I pushed her jeans lower, trailing it lower and lower with my tongue until I was an inch above her mound. It was then that I felt it. A scar.

Her skin was flawless, except that little scar.

“Who did that?” I growled, lifting my head. A visible shudder rolled through her body.

She didn’t answer. Just watched me with those gray eyes. It felt like standing in the field under a stormy sky, summer rain washing over me.

“I’ll find out,” I vowed. “I’ll make them pay.”

She swallowed. “He’s the only one left,” she whispered. “Father is dead.”

“I’ll kill him,” I promised, my voice dark. “Just like I shot your father.”

Surprise flashed across her expression, but no regret. No fear.

“I want to kill him.” That was my kotyonok. My tigress. Branka and Mia might resemble each other physically with a good heart. But that was where their similarities ended. Branka was so fucking strong. Resilient.

I wanted her to see herself as I saw her. I wanted her to own all of it. The good. The bad. The ugly. Because it made her who she was.

“Which is the real you?” I asked her softly. She sucked in an uneasy breath and her eyes flared with the fire I was used to seeing in her gaze. I lifted my brows in challenge, my eyes piercing her. “You play an outraged prisoner, an obedient sister. A seductive killer. Which is the real you?”

A strangled gasp escaped her. “How–” She gulped. “What–”

I let out a sardonic breath.

“Branka, I’m an expert at hiding. My mother blamed me for Father not loving her,” I told her. I could tell her the whole story but I didn’t think she was ready. “She called me unlovable.” Bu-bum. Bu-bum. I could hear her heartbeat. “So I made myself lovable.”

A heartbeat passed and her soft chuckle vibrated between us. I loved the sound of her soft laugh.

“Your mother sounds slightly misguided,” she remarked. “But I like your solution.”

The corners of my lips tugged up. “She was misguided.” Our eyes held each other’s, heavy feelings brewing between us. She fought them. So did I. “I want to see all of you. The good. The bad. The ugly. All of it. Don’t hide from me, and I won’t hide from you.”

We both knew she hid behind a mask of what others expected her to be.

But I saw her. Now I wanted her to see me.