Fear and desire, twined so close I can’t separate them, thrum through my veins.
Once he sets down the last piece of the gun, his eyes find me and pin me in place. Even through his blank mask, his attention slices through my skin.
Straightening his leg, he sends the coffee away with a sudden kick that jolts my pulse into overdrive.
From the sound, I know that thing weighs a ton. And he kicked it aside like a soccer ball.
Just how strong is he?The things he could do with his legs…
He crooks one finger. A silent command.
Closer.
My breath hitches.
The small movement resonates with authority. And despite the danger humming between us and all that I know about him, the pull reels me in. I bend toward him, magnetized, helpless as a compass needle.
Nerves jangle, heightening every sensation.
Fight or flight should take over.
But once again, my body selects a different option.
Arousal floods me, weakening my knees and my will.
While I hesitate, torn between my internal logic screamingnoand everything else aching foryes, Kirill waits.
He’s patient.
He knows exactly how this will go.
Every instinct demands that I stop, but I take one step, then another, lured in despite myself. His eyes track me with a predatory hunger.
I halt in front of him, red dress brushing my knees, my bare feet chilled on the floor.
He crooks that finger again, his eyes flashing.Closer, Jordan.
The gesture nearly causes my knees to buckle, so I settle between his legs.
Creating a new kind of cage for myself that I will fall into willingly.
His thighs radiate heat through the silk and into my skin. His hands land on my hips, the light touch belying the strength behind those fingers. Iron in velvet gloves. Every caress carries a claim, a promise, an unspoken threat.
I have all the time in the world to back up. To leave, retreat to my room, and lock the door.
My heart beats heavy in my throat.
His hands climb higher, fisting silk, bunching fabric until the hem rises and my legs are bare. The dress scrapes over my skin, and the air prickles against every newly exposed inch.
Goosebumps race up my legs.
But he doesn’t stop there. He gathers the fabric in his fists, all the way up to my waist. His gaze locks on mine as he hooks his fingers in my underwear.
I grab his shoulders for balance as my knees weaken, his solid muscle unyielding beneath my hands.
Kirill yanks outward.
The elastic snaps against my skin. As the cloth tears and slithers down my legs, Kirill drops my dress.
