1. Tamara #2
He deliberately missed. I see it in his casual expression, in the lazy smile, the dimple lingering in his right cheek: he aimed wide because he’s sizing me up.
He wants to see what I can do, no doubt so that he can report back to whoever he works for that if I’m the best the Russians have got, it’ll be a doddle taking us down.
I leap onto my feet and aim both weapons at his head.
He faces me without flinching and lowers his gun, sliding it into his pocket. Then he walks towards me until his chest touches the barrels of both guns I’m holding.
“So,” he says softly, “are you shooting to kill or not?”
My pulse races. I wouldn’t be shooting him in self-defense now that he has already lowered his weapon and killing him means that I’ll have to find out who he works for through the usual channels after his body has been dealt with.
It would also mean that I’ll never see him again.
“Why would I tell you?”
He shrugs. “Courtesy. In lieu of telling me your name. You know, back where I come from, it would be rude to lie on the grass with a lady without first finding out her name.”
“We didn’t lie on the grass together.”
His lips curve into another smile, conjuring the dimples at the same time, and heat pools low in my traitorous belly. “You’re right. Perhaps we should rectify that.”
Without warning, he grips my wrists and spins me around as if we’re dancing, so that my back is pinned against his chest, and my arms are crossed, the guns still in my hands.
“Let me go!” I struggle to free myself from his iron grip, aware that any bullets I fire now will aim wide.
“Or what?” His lips are against my left ear, his breath warm on my face.
And, fuck, I can feel his erection pressing against my lower back, and my heart doesn’t know what to do with it.
I go perfectly still. Wriggling out of his arms isn’t an option, and he knows it.
Throwing my weight forward will be like trying to drag a cart load of bricks over my shoulders, and if he thinks I’m falling for his ‘let’s get to know one another’ trick, he’s clearly never fought a Bratva enforcer before.
Or perhaps he took one look at me and told himself he’d already won.
In which case, I’m going to enjoy proving him wrong.
I lean back against him so that his upper body is supporting my weight, raise my feet off the ground and tuck my knees into my chest, headbutting him in the collarbone with the back of my skull at the same time.
He doesn’t drop me. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my arms.
Instead, he drops to his knees, lowers me to the ground underneath him, and pins me down with his weight.
I struggle to release my arms, but they’re still folded underneath me.
His hips straddle mine. His cock is like iron pressing between my butt cheeks, and I feel the blood pumping around my body and straight to my pussy like my body is enjoying this way more than it should be.
“What’s your name?” he breathes in my ear.
“Go fuck yourself,” I manage, realizing my mistake before the words land on the grass.
His weight has replaced the air that left my lungs with those three words, my chest feels as if it’s going to cave in, and it’s impossible to draw a full breath.
“Are you always this friendly? Or are you trying to make me feel special?”
“I’m not here to make friends.” I’m panting. My heart feels as though it’s about to explode, and the tingling between my legs is confusing the fuck out of me.
“That’s a real shame.” The giant removes my guns from my hands as if I’m a kid holding candy and tosses them aside. “This would’ve been a whole lot more fun without the breakdown in communication.”
“I didn’t come here to have fun either.” I’m starting to feel dizzy with the lack of oxygen pumping to my brain, and still he keeps me pinned down with all his weight.
“That much was obvious, a ghrá, from the blades you’re packing.”
He slides one hand down my leg, tracing a line of flames across my skin, and removes a knife from my boot. Then he presses the tip against my neck without piercing the flesh, his lips so close to mine, I can smell liquor faintly on his breath.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Why do you want to know?” My chest is screaming at me to get him off me and fill my lungs with oxygen. “You’re going to kill me anyway.”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who tried to kill me.” His accent feels like a breath of fresh air rolling across my overheated cheeks.
He shifts his weight then without realizing, a subtle movement in his hips as if he’s trying to get comfortable with the tent in his pants, and I seize my opportunity.
I jerk my hips upward, thrusting my ass against his solid erection.
I know it’s worked when he groans in my ear, arching his spine just enough to give me space to roll.
My arms are still folded across my chest which means that all my momentum is driven by my lower body.
This is my second mistake. Because he’s still pinning me down, but now we’re face to face, his erection rubbing against my throbbing pussy, and I wonder if this was his intention all along, and I simply played straight into his hands.
Anger ignites inside my chest.
No one plays me like this and gets away with it.
Here behind the containers, our only light source is the moon, but I’m so close to my assailant that I can see his blown pupils and the green rim around them.
My heart starts doing some crazy dance that I wouldn’t be seen dead trying to perform in public because I was right about the color of his eyes, while my head tries to argue that it’s scientifically proven that pupils expand in the dark.
That’s all it is.
I refuse to dwell on it.
My pupils will be huge too.
“This is the part where I tell you that I don’t make a habit of getting up close and personal with strangers.” His voice is hoarse, and I feel it rumbling against my chest.
“Why should I believe you?” Why would I even care? But I find myself clinging to the sound of his voice and waiting for his response.
“Because it’s the truth.” He locks eyes with me, and I feel like I’m fucking floating away in those black pools when I should be fighting back, when I should be the one in control.
If Ivana were here…
“I only have your word for it.”
“My word is my honor.”
I hardly register him moving closer until his lips graze mine like silk.
“And without my honor…” He presses a gentle kiss on my lips, and this time, there’s no mistaking it for anything else. “I am nothing.”
Then his lips meet mine, and my eyes close of their own accord as I kiss him back.
He strokes my hair away from my face with one hand, and all I can feel is his tongue in my mouth, and the weight of him pressing me into the spongy grass, and his warm hand caressing my temple, my cheek, the curve of my jawline.
I instinctively try to spread my legs, to ease the tingling sensation in my pussy, but there’s nowhere for them to go, because they’re swamped by his solid thighs.
Then his cock pulses against me, and I’m jolted back to reality.
I let my guard down for a moment, and I’ve screwed up a simple mission. I’ve forgotten who I am and why I’m here. I’ve allowed this man to take advantage of me, and I’ll have to report back to Leonid with no information on the Petrovs.
“I can’t breathe.” I gasp dramatically, twisting my face away from him.
And he’s so predictable, he supports his weight on his elbows to relieve the pressure on my chest.
Before he can process the consequences of his actions, I slip my hand into his pocket, retrieve his weapon, and hit the side of his face with the barrel.
It offers me enough of a reprieve to slide out from under him and press the gun to his temple while he’s still on the ground.
I’m panting, and I’m not foolish enough to believe that it’s solely down to gaining control of the situation.
My pussy is aching, my panties are wet, and I know I’ll never forget his taste, but one thing at a time.
I need to get the fuck out of here first and erase him from my memory later in the solitude of my room in Leonid’s house.
“Don’t move,” I say huskily, betrayed by my own body.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He slides those beautiful green eyes towards me, and I see the bruise already blossoming on his cheek bone. “Mind if I sit up? I promise I won’t kiss you again.”
Disappointment flares inside my chest and I swallow hard as I back off and give him a curt nod, retrieving my own weapons from the grass.
He raises both hands in surrender as he sits upright, knees bent to hide his erection, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Who do you work for?” I repeat my original question.
“I can’t tell you that, so go ahead and shoot me if that’s what you came here to do.”
The reminder is like being splashed with icy water. It isn’t what I came here to do. The Irish mobs aren’t even on Leonid’s radar, and shooting one of their foot soldiers without good reason will only start a war we don’t need.
I back away, his own gun still pointing at his head. “If you try to follow me, I’ll shoot.”
His lazy grin reappears, and my body tingles in response. “What’s your name? It’s a fair trade: my gun for your name, don’t you think?”
I take one last lingering look at him, sitting on the grass with his knees bent, and that beautiful smile on his face before I turn around and walk away.