Stolen by the Mob Boss : A Russian Mafia Romance (Bratva Hitman), Nicole Fox [best ebook reader for surface pro .txt] 📗

her my face and telling her my name. Letting her go could be just as idiotic, but I need to be rid of her. Only then can I get my head back in the game. I have a new assignment that I need to worry about, and taking care of Lucy is not part of the job description.

***

For the rest of the night, Lucy doesn’t saw a word to me. She rolls over and pulls the covers up high. I wait quietly, until finally I hear her breathing begin to slow. Her body relaxes, and finally she falls asleep.

Exhausted, I pull my hood over my eyes for what I hope is the last time. This is all too fucking much. Thankfully, after a few minutes of listening to Lucy, I finally fall asleep too.

But my dreams are a confusing mess.

Chapter Seven

Lucy

I dream about Roman.

It’s the only dream I have, but it’s vivid. He’s on top of me again, that passion still burning in his eyes, but something about it is different. He’s not furious that I considered knifing him when he least expected it. Instead, he looks at me with a different kind of intensity, something I’ve only experienced once before. He could hurt me, but instead, his hands loosen their grip on my wrists and begin sliding down my sides.

I stiffen for a moment, my breath catching in my throat. It’s wrong to admit, but the sensation of his touch is delicious. He’s a loaded gun, capable of causing harm to anyone around, but in this moment, the safety is on.

For now.

His hands continue the journey lower, but when they reach the hem of my shirt, he slides them higher, rough fingertips against my soft skin. The combination forces goose bumps in their wake, tiny trails that he leaves up and down my body.

One hand returns to my throat, but instead of squeezing hard, threatening me, it feels like a gentle reminder. He’s the one in control. I’m the one tied to the bed, vulnerable to his every whim and desire. He could just as easily hurt me as bring me pleasure, and that flip of the coin is what makes me grow wetter.

In the moment, I want him more than I’ve wanted anything before. I want to feel his calloused hands all over me, claiming me, giving into his desires. The look on his face tells me he’s struggling, torn between whether he wants to give in or pull away. I see the wrinkles in his forehead and the indecisiveness in his eyes, and I know.

I don’t want him to stop. I can’t let him stop.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice barely loud enough for me to hear it. “I need you, Roman.”

It’s as if a dam has broken. He leans forward and presses his lips to mine. Overcome, I taste the mint on his tongue and smell the soap on his skin and any fight left in me disappears entirely. I’m not angry that he kidnapped me. I’m not scared that we’re in this hotel room. I don’t even consider the fact that he knows who Abram Konstantin is.

All I’m conscious of is this desire buried deep inside me that’s finally beginning to wake up from its slumber. I let it flow through me, brushing my tongue against Roman’s, whimpering at the rough stubble on his chin. He fits against me so perfectly, his towering, looming frame dwarfing my own. When he breaks the kiss and attacks my neck with nipping, teasing bites, I choke on a cry of pleasure. I’m writhing against him, raising my hips to close the gap between us.

I feel the bulge in his pants and I’m on fire again, consumed by a need I haven’t felt in months, if not years. I need this more than anything. More than I need to hurt Konstantin. More than I need to take care of Nana. Right now, the one thing on my mind is being closer to Roman. Feeling his weight press down on me, and when he eventually undoes the fly of his pants, feeling him fill me.

When he pulls away to look at me, I feel my heart beat faster than before. His lips glisten, wet from our kiss, and if my hands were free, I’d pull him down and kiss him again. Rather than saying anything, Roman slips a hand between us and I hear the unmistakable sound of his zipper. The look shining in his eyes tells me exactly what’s coming next.

Pounding.

There’s a pounding at the door that ruins my dream. I sit up in one quick movement, my head spinning. It’s not the kind of knocking that housekeeping uses. It’s a forceful knock, authoritative. I turn to the floor where Roman went to sleep and find him looking between me and the door.

“Open up,” the booming voice on the other side of the door orders. “This is the police.”

For a moment, I feel my heart leap. This is what I’ve wanted for the past twelve hours. I don’t know what’s going on, but if I wanted to, I could scream and make all of my problems disappear. The officer outside would save me from Roman.

I’ve been saved.

But a second later, I realize that I can’t go.

Running away would stamp out any chance I have of finding where Konstantin is. Roman couldn’t help me stop him. If I turn Roman over to the authorities, it just means that my opportunity to make Konstantin feel what I felt is gone once more. I may never get another chance like this. When I look back at Roman again, he’s staring at me, practically daring me to say a word.

“Untie me,” I say.

“What?”

“Now,” I hiss.

If I were him, I wouldn’t trust me either. He doesn’t know my intentions or what I plan on doing, and in the kind of business he works in, trust doesn’t seem to be given so generously. Still, I need him to do exactly that. I frantically gesture to my