Page 39 of Wicked Savage

I reach over and pull her in for a quick kiss on her cheek before drawing back. My gaze trails down her figure. The skintight black dress hugs her curves, stopping just above her knees, with the beige sandals adding a few extra inches to her height, though she’s still so small compared to me. Her hair blows in the wind, and a desperate urge to push it from her face washes over me, just so I can touch her again.

My pulse races, as if she holds the key to my heart.

The man behind her steps forward, his gaze locking with mine. He’s about my height, maybe a little older, and the way he sizes me up isn’t lost on me.

I nod in greeting, noting the way his hand rests on something concealed. He’s definitely armed. But that’s okay. So am I.

“That’s Boris. He’s my…bodyguard. We’re kind of a package deal.” She crunches her nose in the most adorable grimace.

My arm instinctively slides around the small of her back, tugging her close, and the tiny hairs on her bare forearm prickle against my skin. I like the power I already have over her body.

“You ready?”

“Mm-hmm.” She turns to Boris. “You can go back and follow us.”

“As soon as you’re in the car, Ms. Ma?—”

Her eyes flare at him for a split second. “Dinara is fine.”

“Yes, miss.”

Her bodyguard is Russian too. Does her family know Konstantin’s?

“So, where are you taking me?” she asks as we head toward my car.

I lower my mouth to her ear, feeling the heat of her breath against my skin. “I thought you wanted to be surprised.”

“I do,” she whispers back.

Her head drops against me, sending a surge of warmth through my bloodstream. It feels like she already fits perfectly beside me.

I press the button for my Royce as I pull out my keys, and when Boris moves to open the door for her, I reach for the handle instead.

“Territorial, huh?” she breathes with a little smirk.

Before she can get in, I stop her, pushing her against the car. My front presses against her back, her palms bracing across the roof.

I drop my mouth to her ear, inhaling the faint scent of her rosy perfume. “If you think that’s bad, wait ’til you see what happens when you’re really mine.”

She swallows, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in her eyes as she glances back.

What’s going on in her head? Does she not want this? Or is she just nervous?

My fingers slide to her front, trailing up her thigh, sweeping over the fabric of her dress.

“I like this dress.” I shift the conversation, giving her the escape she’s clearly craving.

“Do you now?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“I do. But I’d much prefer to see you out of it.” My fingers slide up higher, one pressing into her core, right through her panties.

She sucks in a breath. “You know he’s still watching, right?”

I let out a low dry laugh. “If he’s going to be following us, might as well make it worth his while.”

“You’re so bad.”

She grabs my wrist and forces me deeper into her core while footsteps pummel away from us, like Boris finally realized he should get the fuck away when I’m touching my woman.

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