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

that no man had ever been before, I might have whimpered into his mouth. I couldn’t be sure.
     
    At the same time, he had broken our passionate, explorative kiss so that he could drag his tongue hungrily down my neck. I shivered at the contact—at his tongue, his lips, his hands—and when his mouth finally made it to my ear, his hot breath washing over me like a caress, he said, “I’m taking you home.”
     
    And this time I did whimper, only it came out in a velvety, lusty word, “Yes.”
     
    The only downside to this I could see was he had to stop touching me. He pulled away, letting my leg drop back down to the floor, making me feel like I was standing on Jell-O, ready to collapse any moment. He then made a point of smoothing my dress back down over my thigh. A touch that was courteous and still made my blood boil with need. Taking my hand, he led me back through the bar filled with the rich and the beautiful, crossing the room to the exit. He led me outside to a black, sleek-looking car that was probably foreign and looked very expensive.
     
    Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger door for me. “Do you have a car here?” he asked, his voice low and husky, telling me that he was impatient but trying to keep himself in check.
     
    I felt a thrill unlike anything else at the idea that I had something to do with that impatience. I shook my head, breathing heavily. “No. I took a cab.”
     
    He nodded once. “Good.” Then he closed the door and I had a moment alone in the car where I noticed that the interior smelled like clean leather with a mix of something just barely sweet, almost fruity. The dash looked like it was some sort of fancy computer and the back looked luxurious if seriously lacking in leg room. Not that it mattered, I wasn’t in the back.
     
    The driver’s door popped open and then he slipped inside. Combing his thick hair back with a large hand—a hand that had just been on my body, sliding over my curves and skin like they belonged to him—before starting the engine. “We’re only a few minutes away,” he told me, and then we peeled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. I laughed at the sudden movement and he looked over at me, his eyes taking a long moment to rake over my body. That look, hot and hungry, was enough to cause the laughter to die in my throat. My breath caught and I realized that I was going home with a complete stranger. All I knew was his name, and not even his last name.
     
    It was dangerous and maybe a little stupid, but it was so exciting. I thought my heart might burst right then and there. I had never gone home with a stranger before, never done anything like this before, but I wanted it. I wanted him.
     
    I told myself that I was ready. That sex with him was what I wanted.
     
    The drive there was quick but silent. It didn’t matter. The air around us was so charged that I could barely breathe, and I saw his hand twitch once or twice as though he was desperate to do something—like reach over to caress my body once again. A thought that had me thinking crazy things.
     
    We pulled up outside a high rise building, like one of those fancy places you see along the skylines of the biggest cities. It was modern and sleek, with several trees and some weird metal sculpture out front. We got out of the car, Alexei opened the door for me again, and he put his hand at the small of my back, guiding me into the building. He had to use a keycard to even get into the lobby . There was someone at the front desk idly flipping through a newspaper—Alexei waved briefly and the man nodded in acknowledgement—then he steered us to the elevator, his hand at the small of my back, jamming a thumb into the button. He became impatient with the elevator and, no longer able to wait, his hand slid down over the swell of my rear and squeezed.
     
    I let out a gasp just as the doors opened, and I saw him grin in the mirrors that lined the interior of the elevator.
     
    When