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“Kirill.”
He said his name with such savage force, the tone deep and guttural, that it took my breath away. Only monsters had such a dangerous name, while I was named after something far too sweet. I could tell by the sly smile he issued that my name pleased him.
“Yet your name is appropriate given the circumstances, little beauty,” he whispered as he swept his thumb back and forth across my lips. “My favorite dessert is candy, rich chocolate to be exact, a treat meant to be savored by taking several licks before biting into the rich center. Tell me, Candy. What flavor will I taste when I feast on your pretty pink pussy?”
He was mad. Absolutely insane. And I was nuts for thinking I could deter a man like him from doing everything he wanted. As he pulled me onto my tiptoes, I was helpless against the brute, even though I beat my fists against his rock-hard chest several times. “You’re going to let me go or I’ll scream for the police.”
His grin was even more disturbing, the sparkle in his eyes allowing me to know in no uncertain terms that he controlled the area. He wasn’t just a criminal. He was much worse, the kind of darkness only nightmares were made of. I was no fool, especially given what one of my cousins did for a living. Finnegan faced bastards like him almost every day as a New York City police detective. He’d committed his career to hunting down monsters just like this.
And Kirill was definitely one bad-ass criminal, maybe an assassin. My mind was fuzzy, but odd questions surfaced in my brain.
Why would an assassin live in a crappy apartment building in Brooklyn?
Why would he be boxing in the middle of the night?
Duh. He was honing his skills as a killer.
Kirill took a deep breath, holding it as he studied me, reveling in keeping me in his full control. When he breathed across my face and neck, my knees buckled, my heart thumping so loudly the sound echoed in my ears. As he lowered his head, his scent filtered all the way through my system, tossing a cup full of gasoline on flames that shouldn’t exist.
“I have no issues making deals, especially in the middle of the night. While I enjoyed the sandwich, I have another idea in mind.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not in the habit of talking to dangerous men in the middle of the night. There are no more deals to be made.” My insistence was met with another sly smile.
“It would seem you don’t understand. You aren’t allowed to change your mind. You’ve already made a deal with the devil.”
“What are you talking about?” I no longer recognized my voice. When he dragged his tongue across my lips, my legs began to shake even harder. The devil. At least he was giving me a warning. He was stupidly gorgeous, and I sensed he knew it. Suddenly, I felt like a piece of juicy tenderloin in a large platter ready to be served.
“What am I talking about?” he repeated, allowing his gaze to shred every ounce of clothing as if he had a knife in his hand. “You’re a beautiful woman, Candy, and I’m going to enjoy teaching you about the power of passion.”
Passion? Wait a minute. He thought I’d really made some crazy kind of deal with him? Oh, hell, no. I’d walked from the frying pan into the fire.
I soon found out his bold intentions when he brushed his lips across mine. As insane as it was, firecrackers went off in my system, vivid colors of the rainbow shooting across the periphery of my vision. I was completely unprepared for this man, any man for that matter, to treat me like a possession, like he’d claimed me because I’d dared to knock on his door.
When he pressed his lips against mine, I found myself leaning into the far too intimate moment, my breath skipping in time to my rapid pulse. He slipped his other hand around the back of my neck, holding me in place as he towered over me, taking his damn sweet time before pushing his tongue past my pursed lips.
I didn’t want to like what he was doing to me, but within seconds, I’d yielded my mouth to him, allowing him to taste me. I was paralyzed by his actions, swooning from the way he held me. I wasn’t the kind of girl to have fantasies like my friends back home had cooed over. I’d been taught to be practical, finding a boy after I’d succeeded in life who was financially stable and would keep his good looks as we grew older. This was a bad boy fantasy on steroids.
It was also unacceptable.
As he crushed his mouth over mine, pulling me even tighter against his body, I’d never felt so small or inconsequential in my life. My nipples ignored what rationality I had left in my mind, so aroused and aching that with every slight movement he made, a jolt of raw anguish sliced through me. Ridiculous visions rushed into my mind of the man tearing off my tee shirt, licking and sucking first one hardened bud then the other.
Good God. What the hell was wrong with me?
He made the kiss an artform, sweeping his tongue back and forth across mine, his actions dominating, but strangely romantic.
In some psychotic crazed killer kind of way.
I continued to lean into him, my fingers slipping across his slickened skin, making my actions seem like I was caressing him.
Encouraging him.
No. No!
This was the nuttiest thing I’d ever gotten myself into. I bucked hard against him, wiggling back and forth as I struggled, trying to find a way to get enough room to knee him in the balls. Somehow, I doubted that was going to do much damage. He was obviously made of steel or some other indestructible component. Yet the harder I fought, the tighter his hold became. Now the bastard was mimicking my moves, grinding his hips against me. The intense sensations tingling every inch of me were from the feel of the hard ridge of his cock slicing into my stomach.
No man could be that large.
No way.
