God of Fury (Legacy of Gods #5) by Rina Kent

He swallows and I can’t help watching the up and down of his Adam’s apple. Fuck. I flex my hand around the bag to stop myself from hauling him over and kissing the fuck out of his full lips.

“Does that mean you have self-control when it comes to everything else?” he asks, and his slightly husky voice does nothing to disperse Kolya’s attempt to rise to life.

“Yeah.”

“So all the rumors about your penchant for violence are incorrect?”

“They are correct. I love beating things and people up, but I have enough agency to stop. Can’t do that with you. It’s impossible.”

“Hmm. So I’m more important than violence?”

“Fuck yeah.”

He smiles a little. “Good.”

“You like torturing me?”

“It’s only fair.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

We spend the rest of the way in comfortable silence, and I find myself reveling in every moment I spend in public with him. I never liked silence, and wasn’t really given the choice considering how loud my brain is. Even with Bran, I often filled up any silence with gibberish. Admittedly, I talk too much. He doesn’t.

My Bran is one of those people who don’t talk unless he has something meaningful to say and I grew accustomed to his brand of comforting silence. It’s not tension-filled or brimming with unsaid words. It’s peaceful, relaxing, and fulfilling in its own right.

It’s his way of soaking up the moment, as he told me once, and I’m strangely picking up the habit.

I’d love to thread my fingers through his, but that’s not an option right now. One day, I’ll be able to hold his hand on the street.

One day.

When we’re inside the penthouse, I hurry to put the bags on the kitchen table so I can devour him. If I just drop them at the entrance, he’ll start nagging.

The sound of something hitting the floor reaches me first, then a strong grip lands on my bicep.

I whirl around, but I don’t have time to focus when Bran fists a hand in my hair and captures my lips in a violent kiss. His tongue invades my mouth and he feasts on me. I’m stunned for a second, but then I wrap my arms around his back and claim what’s fucking mine.

My hand falls to his ass and I nudge him up. He doesn’t complain as he hops on and wraps his legs around my waist.

God-fucking-damn-it. I love it when he lets me carry him. I’ve been doing it religiously since I first did it last week.

Bran kisses me for what seems like hours, his fingers stroking my hair, his breaths and his entire fucking being fusing with mine.

He pulls away and smiles against my mouth, then wipes something at the corner of my lips.

“Fuck, baby.” I pant. “What was that for?”

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you.” He strokes my cheek. “Let me down. I’ll wash up and prepare dinner.”

“No way in fuck am I letting you go after that. Buckle up, baby. Kolya would like to say hi.”

I walk him to the bedroom as his laugh echoes in the air.

One day, and I mean very, very soon, Bran won’t be content with only kissing me behind closed doors.

He’ll be proud about being with me just like I’m over the moon about being with him.





What the…?

I pause when I feel a weight on my shoulder and comforting warmth snuggled up to my side.

The last thing I remember is sitting on the floor with my back against the wall while waiting for Bran. He said he was running late because he was meeting up with his brother and sister, and you can bet that I grumbled and threw a fit about having to share him with anyone. So what if they’re his siblings?

It’s getting tragic at this point.

It’s been a week since the day he kissed me senseless after I stalked him then fucked him like a madman before allowing him to do anything. Good times.

Since then, I’ve been shamelessly insatiable for any glimpse of him. I need to see him every night, but even that isn’t enough, so I follow him around whenever I get the chance. But I have to keep a distance—not too difficult considering I’ve become a seasoned stalker at this point.

Anyway, I haven’t seen him at all today because of stupid tests that I couldn’t skip and was fucking desperate for ten p.m. to come since that’s when he usually shows up. However, my hopes got crushed when I received the text about his plans. I must’ve fallen asleep on the floor because right now, I’m on my back on the wood and Bran’s head rests on my shoulder, his body pressed up to my side.

And the best part? His hand covers mine over my chest.

He's in a light-blue shirt and black pants, which means he didn’t change into pajamas. I check my watch and it’s two in the morning.

Fuck me.

I can’t believe I slept for so long and missed the chance to see my Bran.

I demand a redo, now and fucking thank you.

A frown appears between his brows and I smooth it with my index finger. His eyes pop open and I have to swallow something stuck in my throat, because fuck. How can a man look hotter with each passing day? This isn’t good for my uncontainable obsession.

“Did I wake you up?” I ask.

“It wasn’t a good sleep anyway,” he grumbles in that husky voice that goes straight to my dick and somewhere in my chest.