The Mafia Boss's Bride

Chapter 88 : Wouldn't do anything to hurt Her.

Ava saw Ibrahim he locked the door with a click, "Nothing happened Ibrahim. Really.... I'm okay. I swear."

Her heart thundered in her chest, a frantic bird struggling against its cage. Ava scooted towards the bed's edge, her back pressing against the cool wall. It wasn't fear of Ibrahim that chilled her, but a strange, self-inflicted terror. She knew this day would come, knew she'd react like this, yearning for his touch yet crippled by a skittishness she couldn't explain. And she also knew - this wasn't about proving her injury; it was about claiming what he desired. 

Ibrahim stood near the door and saw the tremor in her chin, the way her eyes flickered like trapped flames, the telltale flush that crept up her neck. He knew that the truth resided not in her words, but in the silent language of her body.

He slowly kicked off his boots, then his socks. The black pants hugged his lean frame, the light grey shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. He was a captivating sight, "Don't be scared, Ava. I won't dream of hurting you."

Ava watched him crawl towards her on the bed. He came slowly, as if afraid to spook a skittish bird. And she instinctively drew her knees to her chest. Ibrahim sat infront of her and their eyes locked with each other. 

Ibrahim's arm reached out, gently unwinding her defensive posture. He pulled her knees back in the previous position so he could get the access of her upper body. 

Ava trembled, her hand clenching the fabric of the satin bedsheet until it wrinkled. "Ibrahim," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "It's just a bruise." The chill of the wall at her back seeped into her skin, a stark contrast to the inferno raging within. 

 Sensing her distress, Ibrahim cupped her face, "Sssshh, Baby Girl. Let me see." He brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes.

Ibrahim's face was a chiseled portrait of sculpted desire, his brown eyes burning with a possessiveness. 

Ava's heart ached, a yearning she could no longer suppress. She wanted to lean into him, to melt into his embrace. And she peeled away her remaining defenses. 

Ibrahim's hand trailed down her cheek, sending goosebumps rippling across her skin. His fingers reached the collar of her blouse. She was wearing a simple navy blue blouse. It had small buttons near the neckline. 

Ibrahim's fingers lingered there for a moment, then unfastened the first button. The first button gave way, followed by the second. The sound, barely audible in the stillness, echoed like a thunderclap in Ava's ears. She avoided meeting his gaze, focusing on anything but his eyes. 

Ibrahim noticed how Ava's chest rose and fell with each rapid breath, a clear sign of her heightened state. With a calm demeanor, Ibrahim slowly slid her blouse upward, revealing her skin bit by bit. The fabric glided over her body, exposing her stomach to the cool air of the room. Ibrahim whispered, "Raise your hands, Ava."

Ava looked at him, her throat dry as she swallowed nervously. Then, she lifted her arms, allowing Ibrahim to slide the blouse more upward. As the blouse ascended, Ava's bosom began to reveal itself, the lace patterns on her matching navy blue bra emerging into view. And fabric glided over her shoulders and arms, exposing her delicate form. The blouse finally came off from from her body. Ibrahim put the blouse aside.

Ava couldn't help but feel exposed, as if her deepest desires and insecurities were laid bare for Ibrahim to see. The lace design of her bra added an elegance to her appearance, the intricate patterns tracing along her curves. And the navy blue colour of the bra emphasized the softness and allure of bosom. Her gaze was fixed on her lap, her lower lip nervously caught between her teeth. 

She looked at Ibrahim and saw the intensity of his gaze. His eyes traced over her, causing her heart to flutter within her chest. Ava could feel herself blush under his gaze.