You Don't Own Me (The Russian Don 1) - Page 31

I smile seductively. ‘Hmmm … but I heard somewhere that you ate your own heart.’ Let him know that I’m not backing down.

Laughter pours out of him like oil from a jar. Smooth, golden, dazzling. ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Dahlia moy. Now be a good girl and open your legs. I want to fuck you.’

I lick my dry lips. ‘Just like that?’

‘Uh … huh.’

‘And it’s always going to be like this?’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘Like what?’

‘So emotionless.’

He considers the question. ‘I guess so.’

‘Why? Why does it have to be so cold and impersonal?’

A smooth shrug. ‘Because I like it so.’

I swallow hard. ‘Or maybe because you are afraid?’ I whisper.

Dizzying seconds pass. His eyes glitter dangerously, and I see the helldamned shadow inside him, but then, he laughs. ‘Afraid of what, little one?’ he queries softly.

‘Of feeling something.’

‘Something for you?’ he mocks.

I don’t let my expression show my embarrassment. ‘For any woman,’ I bite back.

He looks at me curiously, intrigued. ‘What would make it less … cold for you?’

‘Maybe if we kissed?’

His expression does not change. ‘Go ahead. Kiss me.’

I lean forward and instantly his scent envelops me. Heady. I let my hands drift up to his wide shoulders and settle on those lean muscles. I start moving towards him. His lips come closer and closer to mine. Hell, must he be so gorgeous?

My heart is beating so loud he probably hears it. Breathlessly, I let my mouth dust the side of his neck, and he becomes completely rigid. Under my fingers his muscles are hard and tense. Not exactly the reaction I am looking for, but at least he’s not immune. I nuzzle at a madly throbbing pulse and treat it to delicate little kisses. Soft, innocent butterfly whispers.

Leaving that fiercely beating pulse I rest my forehead against his. My hands rise up to capture his face. His skin feels like raw silk against the palms of my hands. His warmth seeps through. My lips part and so do his. Our breaths mingle.

As bold as a lamb approaching a lion, I let our lips touch.

His mouth is soft and full. He tastes of coffee and something magical. Savoring the taste I move my mouth over his, gently and suggestively … deepening the kiss. My whole body flushes with heat and euphoria. From the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. Warmth spills out of my heart. Oh God! How long has it been since I felt like this? Smoldering heat uncurls deep inside me.

Then I realize.

He is not kissing me back.

I draw back slightly, the lovely heat inside me evaporating like mist in the morning sunlight. He remains still and unresponsive. I lift my eyes and look into his. They stare back at me like beautiful, lifeless stones.

‘Now can we do it my way?’ he asks.

It is like being slapped. He deliberately trapped me into humiliating myself. I let my hands drop away from his face and lean away from him. Inside, my pride and something else are fatally wounded, outside, I show only fury.

‘I think I’m going to end up hating you,’ I spit venomously.

‘There you go. Emotion,’ he taunts.

I glare at him. God, I have never met such an infuriating man. I want to rake my fingernails down his smug, arrogant face, and add another scar to go with the one that’s already there.

Calmly he reaches forward, grabs the front of my blouse, and rips it open suddenly. Buttons fly in all directions.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I protest angrily, my hands automatically covering my chest, even though he has already seen my breasts bare.

‘What I always want to do when I’m around you. Ravish you.’

‘What, the great Zane needs to force himself on an unwilling woman?’ I taunt.

His eyes glint with genuine amusement. ‘I think we both know that you are not unwilling.’

‘I was willing, but I’ve changed my mind. You’re a cold, unfeeling brute. I don’t know what I ever saw in you. I am no longer willing. So there.’

He laughs. A hard mocking sound. So different from the earlier laugh. ‘Lust and passion don’t come from a tap, American fox. You can’t just turn it off.’

‘Well, I just did,’ I tell him coldly.

He smiles wickedly. ‘So you don’t mind if I put it to a test?’

I look at him suspiciously. ‘What are you planning to do?’

‘If you don’t completely lose your head in the next two minutes you can walk out of this house and never return.’

My eyes widen with shock. ‘What?’

‘You heard,’ he growls.

Two minutes. I can do two minutes. I’m not that desperate. Forewarned is forarmed. I’ll do the same thing he did to me. No matter what I feel inside, I will remain cold and unresponsive. I glance at my watch. ‘Your time starts now.’

He looks at his own watch. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that—’

Tags: Georgia Le Carre The Russian Don Erotic
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