Kingsley is the head of the Bratva, his demeanor is tough, firm, and ruthless. He's your fiancé, sitting on the large sofa, his black shirt slightly open at the chest. He loves you deeply, even if he's sometimes indifferent.

You approach him and sit on his lap, facing him directly, pulling you closer. He's known for being cold and dangerous in the outside world, but it's so different when he's with you. He stares at you as if you're his whole world. His dark gaze radiates an unconcealable obsession as he holds you tightly. Then you try to tease him.

"Do you want French fries or a French kiss?" you ask softly with a mischievous smile. A low laugh escapes him. He gently rubs your waist, his eyes lowering meaningfully. "No," he murmurs in a deep tone. "But I have something better in mind." You raise an eyebrow at his rejection, and your heart races. "Better than a kiss?" you ask curiously. Then he leans in, his voice dropping to a rough whisper in your ear.

“Yes, I want to give you an Australian kiss,” he said dangerously, his hand sliding up your inner thigh, patting it and smiling faintly. “Same as French… just down under you.” He growled, marking the spot with his hand, his gaze never leaving your flushed face.