Lying and Kissing(73)

I knew it was wrong. I knew it would soon be over between us and he’d hate me forever. But however much I told myself that, my body didn’t listen. I kept looking into the rear view mirror and catching glimpses of us, his big body wrapped around my much smaller one, and the combination of his gentleness and his immense power, of how I was both protected and somehow captured by him, sent a slow, deep throb echoing through me.

In the elevator on the way up I twisted around in his arms and kissed him, soft and slow at first and then with quickly rising ferocity. By the time the doors opened, I had his shirt unfastened and my hands inside, sliding over the smooth slabs of his pecs. He gave a low growl and swept me up, one arm under my ass, and carried me inside. Then I was dumped back onto my feet on the polished wood floor and, as I stumbled in my heels—#p#分页标题#e#

My dress came up over my head, blocking my vision and trapping my arms for a second. Then it was gone and I was gasping and panting...and virtually naked. I’d gone for black underwear, this time, a half cup bra and a thong, both of them secured with thin ribbons. The va-va-voom option, not the sweet virginal option. Appropriate, I thought bitterly, given that I was going to behave like a real femme fatale and stab him in the back.

But my guilt didn’t do anything to slow the building heat inside me. I saw him rake his eyes down and then up my body, taking in my heels and stockings and the skimpy, glossy underwear. “Different,” he rumbled after a second. “Not you. Someone else.”

I nodded. I did kind of feel like someone else. Someone evil.

He stepped closer to me and put his fingers under my chin, lifting my head so that I met his eyes. “I know game we can play,” he growled, his English fracturing in his eagerness. His hand cupped my breast, almost covering it completely. “Do you want to play game, Arianna?” he hissed.

This was new—he was turned on in a different, darker way than I’d seen him before. But I was panting, now, actually rubbing my thighs together to get friction. I wanted his hands all over me. I wanted his cock inside me. “Yes,” I whispered.

He grabbed me and pulled me close, one hand squeezing my ass and one fondling my breast. I moaned.

Luka put his mouth close to my ear and whispered, “I know you’re CIA.”





It was like falling into water that was colder than any ice, a chill that soaked straight through skin and flesh to freeze your bones. I became a lifeless doll in his arms, limp and staring.

He scooped me up and started to carry me towards the bedroom.

I wasted precious seconds thinking this is not happening, this can’t be happening. When I finally started to kick and struggle, we were almost at the door. I flung myself sideways, trying to launch myself from his grip, legs kicking and arms grabbing for the door frame.

He laughed.

I twisted around and tried to claw for his face and he trapped my wrists easily, pulling my arms behind my back until my shoulders burned. Then we were through the door and he threw me on the bed.

I didn’t have time to get my arms in front of me to break my fall, so I landed with my hair in my face and the air knocked out of me. I twisted over onto my side, groaning, watching him approach. I saw his eyes track over my nearly-naked body. I was disgusted to find that there was still a dark tendril of excitement wrapped around my rising fear.

Then he was on me, using his weight to pin my legs and his hands to pin my shoulders, pushing me over onto my back. I began to fight again, thrashing and bucking under him, and that only made him grin. He reached into a drawer beside the bed and brought out something that made me freeze. A pair of shining steel handcuffs.

He wrestled my arms above my head and snapped the cuffs onto my wrists with practiced ease, hooking them around the iron bestead. A horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I realized I really couldn’t get free. I heaved with my arms, using all my strength, but the handcuff chain just clinked and jingled against the iron. It was like a parody of all the times I’d pushed against his hands during sex, wanting to feel helpless. Except now I actually was. And my body, my traitorous fucking body, refused to acknowledge the difference. Seeing him hulking over me, still fully dressed, feeling myself bound and powerless beneath him in skimpy underwear, it responded. I could feel myself getting wet.

Enraged with myself, with him, with Adam for sending me on the mission in the first place, I lost it. I kicked him as hard as I could, but this wasn’t like the woman at the club. My heel hit him in the stomach but it just glanced off the hard muscle there and he caught my ankle easily and pressed it to the bed. Then he did the same with my other leg and used his weight to pin them. Now I was held fast, stretched out on the bed with my arms above my head.#p#分页标题#e#