Page 11 of Kidnapped By the Mafia Boss
“It’s just that I’ve never kissed a man,” I confess in a rush. “And now that prick might have stolen my first kiss.”
Or maybe much more.
I try not to think about that.
“I don’t know if he kissed you.” Voronov’s accent is more pronounced suddenly. “I was downstairs at that point.”
Oh.
“And then the other side of the door. I couldn’t hear anything.”
Anxiety grips me, not that I’ll never remember whatever happened, but thatI will, and forever more my first experience of kissing and being with a man will be that horrible man, who I should never have agreed to go on a date with.
“Would you kiss me?” I ask in an impulsive rush.
“Zayka…” he says warningly, and I ignore both his tone and the word I don’t understand. Because I cannot allow Howard to be my first, and who knows how long I have until my memory returns.
“If you kiss me now,you’llbe my first kiss. The first I remember.”
He’s shaking his head before I’ve finished. “Not when you’re vulnerable. It would be taking advantage.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” I insist. “You’d be doing me a favour.” Because this Bratva kingpin, however weird the circumstances of our meeting are, is fantasy juice. He must know that he looks just like the sort of men I describe in my little stories.
Tall. Dark. Brooding. Biceps as big as my thigh.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he replies firmly. “You’ve had a distressing incident, and?—”
“No.” I’m more certain about this than I have been about anything in my life. It’s a win-win.
If my first kiss was with Howard—ewww—then this will soften that memory when or if it ever emerges. If I’m wrong, and either Voronov already kissed me, or no one has, then I’ve got my first kiss on my terms.
“How can I prove I’m perfectly in my right mind? I’ll do a test. Name the animal, draw the clock. Person-man-woman-camera-TV. Do verbal reasoning. Walk on a white line.”
“No.” One iron-clad word.
“Twenty press-ups? Ride a horse backwards? Escape a wolf?”
There’s a pause, and our gazes lock. I can’t look away from his pure, light-blue eyes.
“A Russian wolf,” I murmur, goading him.
My memory could return any second. Any moment I could be stuck with Howard as my first kiss, andnope. I’m not accepting that.
“A chase…”
The air between us thickens and Voronov clenches his jaw.
“You know about my insta profile.” It’s not quite a question. He’s already revealed that he does.
A single nod.
“Do you like that too? Primal play?” I’m gambling everything here. Maybe he’ll shoot me down, tell me I’m perverted and sick and a silly girl for wanting to be needed so badly that a man would hold me down and take me, overcome with desire. It’s screwed up, I know it is. But yeah, I fantasise about being devoured.
He swallows as he glances down, and I think he won’t reply.
“Yes.” His voice is hoarse. “Yes, I want that. But I’m a dom. Ihunt.”
The admission vibrates through me. He’s a primal dom. My clit twitches.
