33. Bradley
brADLEY
“Ihave you?” Zira slowly slides into my lap and lays her hand against the side of my neck, gently roaming her eyes around my face. “That’s quite the promise.”
Her warmth soaks into me, bringing a lull of calm to my heart, and my eyes close briefly, simply enjoying the sensation of her touch.
It’s been a hectic few days, and admittedly, I’m not entirely on board with her helping us with Harris, but keeping her away from everything would likely lead to her acting on her own, and I can’t risk that.
Not when everything that puts her in danger risks her being taken away from me.
I don’t want that.
Not even for a second.
“I want to go back,” I murmur softly, finally opening my eyes. Zira’s still studying my face and her thumb sweeps back and forth across the edge of my stubble.
“Back?”
“Back to the cabin. Back to the early morning when we woke up together.” She was pressed against me, her head on my chest and the faint tremor of her heartbeat fluttering against my own. Everything was warm and peaceful with a delicious ache in my muscles from how hard I’d worked her over.
“Aren’t you a romantic?” Zira replies. Her thumb moves to my chin and sweeps under my lower lip, and she raises her other hand interlocked with my fingers as if attempting to slide around my shoulders, but I’m not willing to let go. “What’s this?”
I follow her eyeline to our joined hands and then down to my wrist, where a small skull tattoo decorates my wrist. One of the teeth has been removed and replaced with a small crown symbol. “My tattoo?”
“How have I never seen this before?”
“I don’t know how often you’ve stared at my wrist,” I murmur. “This is my King tattoo.”
“For the Suit?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Does everyone have one?”
“Yes. It’s an identifier of sorts.”
“Aren’t you ever worried?” She turns those vibrant blue eyes back to me. “Don’t people in power always become targets? Aren’t you worried that someone will come for any of you to try and get their way?”
“Worried?” I shake my head, my voice low.
“It’s expected, to an extent. Newer families who don’t want to play by the rules or older families tired of conforming.
Everyone gets greedy, and no one understands the delicate balance we maintain until it shifts, and then people are hemorrhaging money and products, getting caught at the borders and unable to sell.
We exist on a very thin plane of glass and luckily, the majority are happy for their cut.
I…” I shake my head again. “I used to tell myself I wasn’t worried about it because what do I have to lose?
But last year… things changed. Ruslan changed and the ripples… they’re everywhere.”
“Changed because of Ivy, right?”
My lips tic upward. “Exactly.”
“Before Ivy, were relationships not allowed?”
“No… but our view of how the world worked was less… individual. Ruslan fell in love and suddenly, we saw the little people, the ones who were innocent and would get swept away because we were too focused on something bigger. People like… you.”
“Like me?” Zira shifts slightly in my lap. “You think I’m little people?”
“You are. You’re not from this world, dragged in by someone awful who really doesn’t understand the danger he’s in.
Previously… Damian would have handled things himself and you—” I cut myself off, unwilling to waste time imagining what could have happened to Zira if I hadn’t been brought in on this.
“It doesn’t matter. It didn’t happen, so it’s unimportant. ”
“And now I have you.” Her eyes dart down to my lips, then back up to my eyes. “For how long?”
How long? How do I put into words the warm sensation in my chest that blooms wider every second she’s with me?
How the little twitches of smiles across her lips and the sparkles in her eyes are things I want to see for the rest of my life?
That my stomach flips every time she says my name and I feel ten years younger and a hundred times more giddy just from her attention?
That protecting her and making her proud tangle together in my chest as urges I can’t control and now that she’s in my lap, all I want to do is make her my world?
I can’t say it.
It’s too much.
Too heavy.
She’s just lost her brother and we have to settle this shit with Harris. I can’t distract her or risk putting her in a position where she might not feel the same. So I stay quiet and instead lean forward until my lips cover hers in a soft, sweet kiss.
“You’re avoiding the question,” Zira murmurs against my lips, but she arches her body into me all the same and returns the kiss with gentle pressure.
Words no longer matter. I close my eyes, wind my free arm around her waist, and draw her tight against my body.
Our lips work against each other with me leading the soft, weaving kisses with tilts of my head and pressure from my lower lip.
I kiss her upper lip and suck ever so slightly until the kiss breaks, the angle changes, and I kiss her lower.
My heart aches to map out every beautiful, delicate inch of her face with my lips, so that’s what I do.
From the swell of her lower lip to the right corner that rises higher than the left when she smiles, to the bow of her upper lip and the little pucker she does when each kiss parts so we can breathe.
I map it all out slowly, gently. Her hand flexes in mine, occasionally tightening, and her arm shifts with urges to hug me, but I don’t want to let go of her hand.
Soon, my kissing path takes me to the soft tip of her nose, the warm curve of her cheek up to the sharp angle of her brow, and then back down her nose to her mouth.
Then I kiss lower, her chin and the soft slope of her jaw that sharpens when she tilts her head back to give me more room.
Soft, wet kisses trail down to the corner of her jaw and down to her throat where I kiss around the bob of her swallow until I find where her pulse flutters frantically beneath her skin.
There, I spend more time. Latching my mouth over her pulse, I kiss and suck, rolling my tongue against her skin until heat builds and a soft, sweet moan escapes Zira.
Her free hand trails around the back of my neck and into my hair, caressing the back of my head in lazy strokes that send warm shivers down my spine.
I can’t stop.
I don’t ever want to stop.
Using my grip around her waist, I hold her against me as I stand and turn us, then place her down on the bed.
She lands with a squeak, but not once does my mouth detach from her neck.
Covering her body with my own, I brace on one knee and slide my arm from around her waist to rest on the bed at her side.
She tastes sweet. It’s subtle and a little tart from her training with Valentina, but it’s an addictive taste, and I want to taste all of her.
“Bradley,” Zira gasps when I detach from her throat and lick over the red, flushed bruise I’ve left.
“Zira,” I whisper, briefly closing my eyes as the sound of her gasping my name spears heat straight through me to my lower gut.
I kiss down to her collarbone and nibble gently along the slope to her shoulder until she’s shivering.
Keeping our hands joined becomes much more difficult from here, so I’m forced to let go, but I keep touching her to make up for the loss of grip.
My lips walk down her breastbone to the edge of her T-shirt, and I kiss along the hem until I’ve mapped out the entire sweep of her collar.
Together, our hands join each other as I push her T-shirt up and out of the way, and she sweeps it off her body entirely, leaving her in a simple black bra.
Both my hands cover her breasts, squeezing and massaging gently while I kiss over each soft, swollen mound.
Strap to strap, I kiss with each tickle of my breath sending shivers through her.
As I move, her nipples peak under my palms and she moans softly, arching into my mouth as I kiss down between the valley of her breasts and grab the bow on her bra with my teeth.
As she arches, I slide one arm around her and press my palm flat to the arch of her back, holding her there so only her hips and shoulders remain on the bed.
A sharp tug of my teeth and her bra slides up, her breasts spilling free and her soft gasp singing like music in my ear.
Again, together we unclasp her bra and discard it, and I keep her back arched, giving me free rein to lavish attention over her perky nipples, sucking deeply and nibbling just enough to deepen the flush of color.
It’s addictive. Every kiss that softens her skin, every bite that leaves a subtle red mark, every sucking kiss that draws color to the surface and paints her breasts in an array of red marks.
I want to stay here forever. Down her abdomen I kiss until I reach her navel, and I’m forced to let her arched back return to the bed so I can kiss lower and lower.
Her stomach concaves slightly as she breathes deeply and both her hands run through my hair, but as I reach her pelvis, one arm reaches upward and she twists her fist into the sheets above her.
Her jeans slide from her legs, but rather than lying down to bury myself between her soft thighs, I remain seated and lift her hips until her legs are over my shoulders and her soft ass presses against my bare chest. If I leaned forward, Zira would be folded over, but from here, her pussy warms my chin, and I can gaze down her body to her flushed cheeks and her breasts spilling up to her shoulders.
I get to watch every detail of pleasure flicker across her face.
“Bradley,” Zira moans again, dragging it out as I stroke my tongue over her panties from her hole to her clit and then back.