Page 61 of The Bratva Stalker's Ruthless Claim
“She shouldn’t have been touching you!”
The room falls silent.
The words hang in the air between us.
Mike studies my face like he’s trying to understand something.
“Why?” he asks.
The question catches me off guard.
“Why what?”
“Why does it bother you?”
My mouth opens.
Then closes again.
Because the answer sitting on the tip of my tongue is one I refuse to say out loud.
His eyes darken slightly as he watches me struggle for words.
“Ellie,” he murmurs.
The way he says my name is different now.
Lower.
Rougher.
My pulse jumps.
“This anger of yours…” he continues quietly, stepping closer. “It doesn’t feel like indifference.”
His hand is still holding my chin.
His thumb brushes lightly along my jaw.
The movement sends a strange shiver down my spine.
“You said you don’t want me,” he murmurs.
My breath catches.
“But tonight,” he adds softly, “you looked ready to kill a woman for touching me.”
My heart is beating so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.
“I was not,” I whisper.
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth.
Then rises again.
“You were,” he says.
The space between us has vanished completely now.
