Captured by the Bratva (Sharov Bratva #3)

Chapter Seventeen - Violet

Steam rises around me as I step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a plush white robe. The heat from the bathroom is a comforting cocoon against the cool air. I run a hand through my wet hair, lost in thought about the twisted path my life has taken. Fake engagement to Kirill Sharov. A Bratva boss. My supposed protector.

I open the bathroom door, and my breath catches in my throat. Kirill is there, leaning against the wall, his piercing green eyes locked on me.

“What are you still doing here?” I blurt out, pulling the robe tighter around me.

He smirks, the kind of smirk that both irritates and unnerves me. “Enjoying the view, obviously.”

I roll my eyes and step back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. My heart is pounding, a reaction I refuse to acknowledge is due to his presence. I take a deep breath to steady myself, but it catches again when I notice something draped over the counter—a negligee, delicate and undeniably sexy.

What the fuck?

Through the door, I ask, “Did you put this in here?”

There’s a pause before he responds, his voice calm and teasing. “Must have been Anna. It’s a Bratva tradition for the bride to wear something sexy.”

I groan internally. This fake engagement is complicated enough without adding Bratva traditions into the mix. Before I can think too much about it, his next words make my pulse quicken.

“And you do look sexy,” he says, his voice closer to the door now.

His words send a jolt through me, and I can’t help but feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Damn him and his ability to fluster me. I take another deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. Kirill is dangerous, in more ways than one, but there’s something undeniably magnetic about him, something that pulls me in despite everything.

I open the bathroom door slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. He’s standing right there, closer than I expected. His eyes trail over me, a predatory glint in them that makes my heart race even faster.

“You should wear it,” he says softly, his voice low and commanding.

I swallow hard, unsure if I’m more annoyed or intrigued by his audacity. “If I don’t?”

He raises an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Then I guess I’ll have to help you.”

The intensity in his eyes makes it clear he’s not joking, and the air between us feels charged, electric. I glare at him, trying to summon all the defiance I can muster. Inside, I’m screaming; torn between the desire to stand my ground and the inexplicable pull I feel toward him.

I close the door again, leaning against it as I try to calm my racing heart. Kirill Sharov is a force to be reckoned with.

Taking another deep breath, I glance at the negligee again. Part of me wants to defy him, to show him he doesn’t control me. Another part of me, the part that’s captivated by his power and presence, wonders what it would be like to see that look in his eyes again, the one that makes me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

I take a deep breath, still leaning against the door. The negligee hangs there, taunting me, but Kirill’s words echo louder in my mind. I slip it on, feeling the soft fabric against my bare skin, the lace hugging my curves.

I open the door just a crack and peek out at him. He’s still there, his gaze unwavering.

“Come forward,” he commands, his voice a low rumble.

To my surprise, I find myself obeying. My feet move almost on their own, carrying me out of the bathroom and into his presence. He grins, clearly pleased with my compliance, and stands up to his full height, towering over me. The room feels smaller with him this close, his presence overwhelming.

“Even if it’s a contract marriage,” he says, his eyes locking on to mine, “we can still have some fun. Consummate our marriage, perhaps?”

His words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I open my mouth to protest, to tell him this is all just an arrangement, but no words come out. Instead, I’m acutely aware of how close he is, how his gaze seems to see right through me.

“Kirill,” I start, but his name on my lips sounds more like a plea than a protest.

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from my face. His touch is gentle, but it sends a thrill through me. “Violet,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost tender. “You can’t deny it. You’ve been craving this as much as I have.”

I want to deny it, to tell him he’s wrong, but the truth is, I have been craving him. Despite everything, despite the danger and the power dynamics, I’ve been drawn to him from the moment we met. My body betrays me, leaning into his touch, my breath hitching as his fingers trail down my cheek.

“See?” he whispers, his lips so close to mine that I can feel the warmth of his breath. “You can’t resist.”

His words break something inside me, shattering the last of my resistance. Before I know it, I’m standing on my toes, closing the distance between us. Our lips meet in a fierce, passionate kiss, and it feels like everything I’ve been holding back comes rushing to the surface.

Kirill’s hands are on me, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss. I lose myself in him, in the way he tastes, the way he feels. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and I can’t get enough. My hands find their way to his shoulders, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

He pushes me gently against the wall, his body pressing against mine. The kiss becomes more urgent, more demanding, and I meet his intensity with my own. It’s as if all the tension, all the unspoken desires between us, have ignited into a blazing inferno.

Kirill’s lips leave mine, trailing down my neck, and I gasp, my head falling back against the wall. He murmurs something in Russian, words I don’t understand but feel deep in my core. His hands are everywhere, exploring, claiming, and I arch into him, wanting more.

“Kirill,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Please….”

He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his own dark with desire. “Say it, Violet. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” I admit, my voice shaking with the intensity of my need. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

His eyes flash with triumph, and he captures my lips in another searing kiss. This time, there’s no holding back, no hesitation. It’s raw, primal, filling me with a desire that leaves me breathless.

As he lifts me, carrying me to the bed so I’m standing at the foot of it, and I realize that this is what I’ve been fighting against all along—not just the contract, but my own feelings. Now, as I give in to him, to us, I know there’s no going back. We may have started this as a charade, but the lines between reality and pretense have blurred beyond recognition.

Kirill pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and intense. “Let me see you,” he says, his voice a soft command that sends a thrill down my spine.

I hesitate for a moment, but the heat in his gaze makes it impossible to refuse. Slowly, I untie the belt of the robe and let it fall open, revealing the negligee underneath. Kirill’s eyes roam over my body, his expression one of pure, unfiltered desire.

“You look stunning,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. “Absolutely perfect.”

I blush under his scrutiny, but I can’t deny the way his words make me feel—empowered, desired, and completely at his mercy. He steps closer, his fingers trailing along the delicate fabric of the negligee. The touch is light, teasing, but it sends another shiver through me.

“Turn around,” he orders gently, and I comply, turning my back to him. His hands move to my shoulders, sliding the robe off completely, leaving me standing there in just the sheer lingerie. I can feel his breath on my neck, the heat of his body so close to mine.

He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re beautiful, Violet. So beautiful.”

I close my eyes, my heart racing as his hands travel down my arms, his touch both tender and possessive. He turns me back around to face him, his eyes locking on to mine. “Do you want this?” he asks, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” I breathe, my voice trembling with anticipation. “I want you, Kirill.”

Kirill spins me around so I’m flush against his chest. His eyes flash with satisfaction, and he captures my lips in a searing kiss. It’s demanding, consuming, and I melt into him, giving myself over completely. His hands roam over my body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin, and I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips.

He lifts me effortlessly, laying me out across the bed. His eyes never leave mine as he climbs over me, his presence dominant and commanding. “You’re mine tonight,” he says, his voice a promise and a declaration.

“Yes,” I whisper, my body arching toward him. “I’m yours.”

He grins, a wicked, satisfied smile, and his hands move to the straps of the negligee, slowly sliding them down my shoulders. He takes his time, teasing me with each touch, each brush of his fingers against my skin. I writhe beneath him, desperate for more, for everything.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down my neck, planting kisses that leave a trail of fire in their wake. “So eager.”

I can only moan in response, my hands clutching at the sheets as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just below my ear. His teeth graze my skin, and I gasp, my body arching up to meet his.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me, Violet.”

“I want you,” I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair. “I want you to take me. Please, Kirill.”

He growls low in his throat, his hands moving to pull the negligee off completely. The cool air hits my skin, and I shiver, but his body is warm, his touch electrifying. He leans back, taking a moment to admire me, his eyes dark with hunger.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down my sides. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

I reach for him, needing to feel him, to touch him. He captures my wrists, pinning them above my head, his grip firm but gentle. “Not yet,” he says, his voice a soft command. “Let me take care of you.”

I nod, my breath coming in short gasps as he moves down my body, his lips and hands exploring every inch of me. The anticipation is almost unbearable, each touch sending waves of pleasure through me. He teases me, bringing me to the edge and pulling back, his eyes watching every reaction, every shiver.

“Please,” I beg, my voice breaking. “Kirill, please.”

He finally relents, positioning himself over me. His eyes meet mine, and the intensity in his gaze takes my breath away. “This is going to be more than you imagined,” he says, his voice a promise.

He enters me slowly, and the sensation is overwhelming. I arch up to meet him, my body craving his touch, his dominance. His cock is thick, filling me effortlessly. He sets a steady rhythm, each thrust sending a wave of arousal through my core. I’m soaked for him, thoroughly ruined, and I lose myself in him, in the pleasure and the power of his presence.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me closer, deeper. “Only mine.”

“Yes,” I gasp, my nails digging in to his shoulders. “Only yours.”

Kirill’s eyes darken with a look that takes my breath away. He holds my gaze, and it’s all-consuming. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through me, making me feel like I’m on the edge coming already.

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, breathless as he thrusts deep into me.

His grip on my hips tightens, and he leans down, capturing my lips in a fierce kiss. The world narrows down to the sensation of his mouth on mine, his body against mine. He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring, demanding. I respond eagerly, moaning as my walls clench around his cock.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. His teeth graze my collarbone, and I shudder, arching into him. His hands move with purpose, exploring every inch of me, his touch both gentle and possessive.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs against my skin.

I moan in response, my body craving more, needing more. He shifts slightly, his movements becoming more urgent, more insistent. Each thrust drives me higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Kirill,” I gasp, my hands clutching at him. “I’m not going to last.”

His pace quickens, each thrust driving me closer to the edge. I can feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until I think I might shatter. He senses it too, his eyes never leaving mine, his focus entirely on me.

“Come for me,” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “Now, Violet.”

His words are my undoing, and I cry out, my body shattering around him. The pleasure is intense, overwhelming, and he follows me over the edge, his own release powerful and consuming. The sensation of his seed filling me, claiming me, sends another wave of ecstasy through me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

We collapse together, our bodies entwined, our breathing heavy. He holds me close, his hands gentle now, soothing. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a sense of peace.

Kirill’s hand strokes my hair, his touch surprisingly tender. “You were incredible,” he murmurs, his voice soft in the quiet room.

“So were you,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper.

He chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. “Get used to it, Violet. I’m going to have you like this every chance I get.”