10. Killian
10
KILLIAN
I know she’s coming for me.
And the anticipation of her arrival leaves me humming with energy well past the time when I would normally have turned in for the night. In truth, I’ve been waiting for the alluring and seductively beautiful Natasha for hours. But as the clock strikes midnight, she’s still not here.
The thought hits me then that perhaps she’s waiting for me to go to bed.
After all, she slipped in while I was out of my room last night.
My pulse quickens as I picture her outside, watching me, waiting for the right moment to come in.
A smile curls my lips, and I comb my fingers through my hair before shaking my head.
Alright, Natasha, you win.
Dressed in my typical nightwear of boxers and nothing else, I flick off the lights and turn down the sheets. Then I flop onto my mattress and pretend to fall asleep.
But my senses are sharp, my ears attuned to every subtle sound, even though I keep my eyes nearly closed. Slowing my breathing, I deepen it intentionally to a rhythm that would indicate I’m unconscious.
And I wait.
My skin alerts me to her presence before my ears. And that tells me just how quiet she is. But the hair rises along my bare arms and up the back of my neck as a second presence joins me in the dark.
She didn’t come through the balcony door, like I anticipated. I didn’t even hear the door to the hallway open or detect a shift in light. But I sense her creeping toward me from the left. Steps impressively silent, she covers ground with the stealth of a large cat stalking its prey.
All my instincts sound the alarm, my muscles screaming to prepare for an imminent attack. But I remain still, relaxed, determined to show no signs that I know she’s here with me.
Because she’s not the only one waiting to pounce.
And I’m about to turn the hunter into my prey.
She rounds the bed, coming to the side I sleep on—the side nearest the balcony. And I catch the glint of cold steel in the moonlight through my slitted eyelids.
This tigress and her claws. She really is the deadliest creature in the jungle.
And if I’m not careful, she very easily could be the death of me.
A thrill of excitement races through me. I love it when the stakes are high. Especially when the rewards are equally as elevated.
My mouth waters just thinking of what my victory will mean.
The hint of cinnamon and amber tickles my nose, and I know she’s near, though the room’s too dark to see her clearly.
And crackling energy buzzes across my skin as the cool edge of a blade finds my throat.
That’s when I pounce.
Snatching her wrists, I pull them down until her hands are pinned against my chest. Try as she might to cut me, she won’t get more than the nick she gave me last night.
And Natasha gasps as I use the momentum to pull her over my body and onto the mattress. Rolling on top of her, I trap her hands against the bed in one fluid motion.
“So, it looks like you’re ready for another night of passion, eh?” I tease.
“ Otyebis ot menya, svoloch! ” she hisses, and while I don’t quite grasp that first part, the fact that she called me a bastard makes me laugh. “Get off of me!” she snarls in English when I don’t follow her Russian command. “I’m not done trying to kill you.”
Squirming ferociously beneath me, Natasha does her best to throw me off. But she’s too light, and it’s far too easy to hold her down with my considerable advantage in size.
“I don’t think you have much choice, love,” I tease quietly, peering down at her in the moonlight with newfound appreciation.
She’s dressed in another of her skintight bodysuits, her mask covering her hair, nose, and mouth. But her eyes are nearly silver in the dark. And it’s a wonder I could have mistaken her for a man even momentarily last night.
Just goes to show how male-dominant our world truly is that I could automatically assume Boris’s assassin would be a man. Because Natasha’s captivating gaze is framed by thick, dark lashes that are so long they brush her cheeks every time she blinks. And their almond shape is so strikingly feminine, it makes my blood pump thick and hot, like lava, through my veins.
Growling in frustration, Natasha bucks her hips with such force, she actually manages to move me. And with impressive dexterity, she uses my bodyweight against me to roll us until she’s straddling me.
But I’m not letting go of her wrists—no matter how slippery her bodysuit might be.
The blade bites into my skin, raising a droplet of blood on my chest. And though it’s an artificial wound, I know I need to get the knife out of her hand before she finds a more effective way to use it against me.
Taking her hand that doesn’t have a knife, I drag it down my body, releasing a wave of anticipation in my chest just from feeling her touch. And as soon as her wrist is down by our hips, I roll us once more. Releasing her hand just before my weight comes down on top of her, I effectively trap her arm between us.
And with one fluid motion, I reach up to guide her other wrist toward the headboard.
My handcuffs are already there waiting for me. And I close the fur-lined metal around her wrist before she realizes what I’m doing.
“ Blyat! ” she hisses, releasing another frustrated growl. She twists her hand, trying to free herself from the restraint. But there’s no way in hell she’s going to slip loose—especially if she wants to keep holding that knife.
“Are you done?” I tease, breathing heavily as I keep her pinned beneath me.
“Not even close,” she snarls, and because her suit is so slick, she manages to worm her arm out from between us. In a flash, she’s reaching for her blade, ready to transfer it to her left hand and come at me again.
“Ah-ah.” Recapturing her second hand, I force it to the other side of my headboard—to the second set of cuffs just waiting to make her mine.
All. Night. Long.
She puts up an impressive fight, even managing to get several knees to my ribs before I have her completely restrained. Only after I’ve forced the knife from her grip and she’s entirely at my mercy does she give in, collapsing against the mattress beneath me.
“Now are you done?” I tease, setting the blade on my nightstand. Then, hooking my fingers beneath the bottom of her ski mask, I pull it carefully up over her face.
Natasha breathes heavily, her silver eyes glaring daggers at me as her spent air washes across my skin. “Fine,” she says spitefully, practically spitting the word.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing. Have you decided you don’t want the deal, after all?”
“Just because I agreed to the deal, doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it,” she hisses, squirming rebelliously beneath me.
Amusement curls my lips as I lean in close enough that they nearly brush hers. “Last night, it sounded like you enjoyed yourself plenty.”
“You are such a pig ?—”
I cut her off by stealing a kiss, and her words die out, replaced by the softest of moans.
Insult me all she wants, I know that Natasha likes the way I make her feel. The way I make her come. And if she wants to deny it, I don’t mind in the least proving that fact to her again.
Her full lips are so soft and inviting, her tongue tantalizingly sweet when I stroke between her teeth. And despite her impressive struggle at the start, my little vixen’s muscles relax as she gives in to the moment.
Pulse thrumming through my veins, I let my imagination run wild, ready to unleash all my daydreams on her as soon as I can get her out of this outfit.
But I don’t really want to let her out of her handcuffs.
Having her at my mercy is just too much fun.
So, instead, I unlock her restraints one hand at a time to pull her gloves and sleeves off before I return her to her cuffs. She doesn’t fight me, and more than anything, I love how quickly Natasha can shift from our cat-and-mouse game to this scintillatingly submissive seductress.
She doesn’t even protest when I confine her a second time.
A fact I fully intend to reward her for.
Climbing to the foot of the bed, I pull off her rubber-soled combat boots. Then, inch by inch, I peel her bodysuit down over her hips and thighs, taking her panties with it. The fabric is so stretchy and light, it’s like it was cut from the same cloth as its lithe, flexible owner.
My cock hardens at the thought of folding Natasha in half and finding out just how bendable she really is. But I suspect tonight is not the night.
I fucked her so thoroughly last night, I imagine she must be sore.
So, tonight, I’ll go easy on her.
Kneeling at the foot of my bed, I take one petite foot in my hand, and I slowly knead her arch with my thumbs.
Natasha groans, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, confirming my suspicion. Releasing a dark chuckle, I slowly work my way up each leg, starting at her feet and massaging the sore muscles until she’s putty in my hands.
And when I finally get to the peak of her thighs, I dip my head to press a soft kiss to that sweet spot that drives her wild.
Natasha gasps, her knees drawing upward so her feet slide across the bedding. But her thighs stay open for me, inviting me in. And her toes curl with anticipation.
Humming my appreciation, I slide my hands beneath her hips, lifting them slightly so I can massage her firm, round ass. At the same time, I lean in to stroke her sexy slit with my tongue. And her tart juices coat my taste buds.
“Oh God,” she breathes, her knees trembling with her sudden need.
My cock throbs in response.
She’s already wet for me, her seam slick with arousal. When my tongue swirls around her clit, it twitches with excitement. And God, that makes me want her all the more.
My sexy little minx might say she has no choice but to take the deal I offered.
But I know that somewhere deep inside, she wants me.
She knows it too—even if she won’t admit it.
And that’s why I won’t stop until she’s mine.