Lying and Kissing(36)

OhGodwhathaveIdone?

—and pulled me towards the bedroom.





I had to run to keep up. If I’d stumbled, I honestly believe he would have dragged me along the carpet.

We burst through a door into his bedroom. A huge room, with a bed that looked bigger than king size, covered in a dark red satiny comforter that gleamed in the low lighting. Luka heaved on my hand and I squealed as my feet left the floor and I flew headfirst through the air —

I landed on my back on the bed, the air knocked out of me. I lay there gasping, looking up at him, trying to come to terms with the reality that he just threw me onto his bed.

He was undressing. He didn’t rush, despite the headlong dash through the apartment. It was as if he wanted to savor this part. His fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, his bare chest gradually appearing. I lay there panting, staring up at him. He was a huge man anyway but, looking up at him like that, he looked like a giant.

The smooth expanse of his pecs slowly came into view and, with it, the first of his tattoos. The spider at the center of its web, picked out in black against the smooth tan flesh. His chest was so wide, so solidly hewn that I wanted to run my hands over it in wonder. Then, as the shirt loosened around his shoulders, I saw the tattooed stars there, the ranking that lifted him above the others. What had he done, to earn those? How many men had he beaten or shot to rise up the chain of command? I should have been terrified—was terrified—but I imagined leaning around him from behind and softly kissing every point of each star, telling him that I knew what he was...and that I wanted him so much I didn’t care.#p#分页标题#e#

His broad chest gave way to a tight midsection, the muscles hard ridges beneath the skin. As he slid the shirt down his arms, my eyes locked on the Bratva tattoo of a rose on his bicep. It wasn’t just him who would kill me, if he found out what I was. The entire weight of the organization could be turned, with one phone call, into an apparatus for tracking me down and putting me in a shallow grave. I was on their turf, where the games were played by their rules.

The thought made me close my eyes for a second in fear but, when I opened them again and took in the whole of his naked torso, I knew I wasn’t going to run. The sight of him was short-circuiting my brain, going straight past every bit of common sense I possessed. I was acting on instinct and need. His body was sheer power, shaped not through vanity but through brutality. The ink was the final evidence, if I needed any: this man was as bad as they came. And he was staring right between my thighs.

I closed my legs, out of instinct.

He smiled, as if that was amusing.

What have I done?!

He kicked off his shoes and unfastened his expensive leather belt. When he pulled it through the loops, it whistled and snapped. There was something about the way he did it that made me go weak inside. God, does he use that on his women? Does he tie them up and—

He lazily pushed his jeans down, taking his jockey shorts with them. I got my first look at his cock. Big. Thick. And already—God, already hard and primed in his fist as he climbed onto the bed—

I moved away from him, my ass scooching up the bed. I don’t know why—primal instinct at the sheer size of him, I think. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it.

And it didn’t make any difference. His hand seized my ankle and dragged me back down the bed. I let out a kind of strangled groan.

He looked meaningfully down at my pressed-together thighs.

I swallowed, the air rattling in my nostrils I was breathing so hard. And I opened my legs for him. I felt cool air hit my delicate flesh and I could feel myself throbbing, wet with need for him. God! I’d never felt like this, ever.

He moved up the bed, kneeling between my legs and hulking over me, planting his hands either side of me. His thickly-muscled forearms might as well have been made of solid steel, imprisoning me.

You wanted this, a little voice inside me reminded me.

His knees moved up between my legs. God, his lower half was just as heavily muscled. That solid mass you get on a heavyweight boxer, dwarfing me. What was I thinking?!

I felt the first touch of his cock against my inner thigh and the hot, throbbing weight of it made me gasp. Then he was leaning down over me as if to kiss me, his lips only an inch from mine….

But he didn’t kiss me. This wasn’t going to be that sort of sex. His mouth moved down my neck, a soft exhalation sending little currents of air dancing across my skin. He moved down to my chest and—

My upper body came up off the bed as his mouth enveloped my breast in its hot, sucking depths, his lips spread wide to take as much of me as he could. Then his hand was on my shoulder, ramming me hard back down to the bed. I gasped and stared up at him; the look in his eyes was clear.