Bound to the Beast: Russian Hitman Romance Read Online Free PDF

surprising me the moment I stepped in. It was dimly lit, and decorated with soft colors that reminded me of wine and midnight. I’d been thinking the place would probably be a loud, raucous place with bikers and bar fights and drunks slumped across the bar. I was relieved to see that I was wrong; the place looked classy.
     
    There were bunches of people around, women in fancy, slinky dresses who made me feel like I was still a girl in high school. Their faces were made up with smoky makeup and their hair was done perfectly, sexily. The men they were hanging on were older, but distinguished and still attractive, clearly wealthy in a way that I was certainly not.
     
    I almost talked myself into leaving right then and there, but I reminded myself that this was about experiencing new things. I had to be brave.
     
    So I went to the bar, my eyes catching sight of a tall, dark man already sitting at the bar. He was the kind of gorgeous that made women’s knees weak and their hearts beat erratically in their chests. At least, that was how I felt.
     
    I worked hard to be nonchalant, though I knew he probably wouldn’t even notice me. But I was wrong. He bought me a drink and as his sexy accent—Russian, I learned—slid over me like a lover’s caress; I knew I was lost.
     
    I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander over his strong features, that hard jaw, those full lips, those long, dark lashes framing deep, dark eyes. I even let my eyes wander lower over his muscled chest encased in a dark button-down shirt that was almost too small, and lower still to his lap and the slacks that were just loose enough to let me imagine what might be hidden beneath the folds of fabric.
     
    Things I wasn’t supposed to be thinking. Things I had never let myself think before.
     
    But I thought them now. And I lingered on his mouth for a long time, licking my lips as I let myself wonder what it would be like to feel them press against me. I was blushing, I knew, but couldn’t make myself care. That drink had given me liquid courage, made me bold and flirty, and I liked it. I wanted to keep talking to him. And when his hand slid onto my leg, I wanted to touch him.
     
    By the time my back was against that wall and his body was covering mine, I thought I might be going crazy. He had me burning up, my breasts heaving as I tried desperately to catch my breath and calm my raging heartbeat. But I couldn’t. His touch was like fire and passion, my own body responding to him eagerly. I wanted so much from him— everything from him. His hands burned through the thin fabric of my dress, leaving scorching handprints on my hips, making me wish there was less between us. And then his lips were against mine and I was lost. Lost, lost, lost.
     
    His mouth devoured me, consumed me whole until I was his. I just knew it, felt it.
     
    I felt wanton. Desire coursed through my veins like blood and the jackhammering beat of my heart pushed it faster through me until I was spiraling farther into lust. I didn’t care. This wasn’t me, had never been me, but I didn’t care. How long had I played by the rules, been the good girl? My entire life. Wasn’t I entitled to at least a small taste of the things I had been missing?
     
    Maybe I thought so, maybe I didn’t. There was a good chance that I was just rationalizing the way I lifted my leg, bending it at the knee so that I could hook it around Alexei’s back, pulling him closer. I felt him hard against my thigh and felt a new sweep of lust pour through me. This was so new, but I didn’t care if my lack of experience showed or not. I wanted him, desperately.
     
    His hand slipped from my hips down to my lifted leg, trailing until he found the bare skin of my thigh. I sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, electricity surging through me, my skin on fire. His hand moved back up again, but he’d found the hem of my dress and he took that with him. When his fingers brushed against my panties, in a place