I did not expect her good behavior to last long, however.
Perhaps she’d found some makeshift weapon to her liking and stuffed it under a pillow.
I smirked, thinking I might enjoy a good sweaty tussle with her while I unarmed her.
I briefly soaked in the sight of her wearing an article of my clothing. The large shirt had no hope of concealing the fullness of her figure as the fabric fought to contain her big luscious breasts, the imprint of her succulent nipples clear. But she loosened her hands to fidget with the hem of the shirt that hit her mid-thigh. I imagined she was trying to hide those unsightly scars high on her upper legs.
Moving toward her, I placed the icepack against her temple and set a glass of water and two ibuprofens on the stand beside the bed.
“Keep the icepack on for a bit,” I murmured.
Her eyes found mine then quickly swerved away. “Thank you.”
I almost snorted.
She did play the passive prisoner very, very well.
I still didn’t trust her.
As she took the pills, I quickly searched the bedding for any weapon she might’ve fashioned.
She watched, amusement making her lips twitch.
“You can wipe that smile off your face.” I stalked back to her with the bolas in my hand.
Any hint of amusement quickly fled when she caught sight of the weapon. She lifted her legs onto the bed, scurrying backward.
Not fast enough.
I grabbed one of her ankles and yanked her feet toward the end of the mattress.
“What are you doing?” Hysteria gave a high pitch to her voice.
When I swung the boleadoras so a reedy sound whistled through the room, she flinched so violently the mattress shifted.
Fear.
I grasped her feet in both hands and, with one last swing of the bolas, lashed the long leather bands in circles around her ankles. I stopped the binding just short of the stones bashing into her Achilles heels.
She struggled to sit up, firing a look of pure venom at me.
Thus restrained and wearing my shirt, she made a cock-hardening vision . . . oh the things I’d do to her.
“I thought you said you didn’t need a gun to control me.” Her words constituted a challenge.
I gave her a wicked grin, tugging on the leather restraint. “This isn’t a gun, is it? It’s a bolas.” Shrugging, I leaned away from her to admire the sight even more. “You should be grateful I’m leaving your hands free.”
Her ankles were secured together and, added bonus, whenever she moved the stones would clack together.
Lucia mumbled a curse in Italian as I dimmed the lights even more. Her tawny skin glowed softly, and I prowled around my bed. Setting my Sig on the low table, I sank beside her and drew blankets to our waists.
She lay on her back, stiff and tense, yet her nipples made high peaks in the shirt and her breath came in shallow puffs.
Rolling toward her, I lay my hand beside her hip.
She didn’t flinch then. Her lips parted, and her lashes fluttered as heat from my body radiated to her.
“I won’t hurt you. Not tonight.” The thickness in my voice made the timbre even deeper.
“What a relief,” she said bitterly, but there was no denying the tight buds on top of her tits.
She definitely wasn’t cold.
One side of my mouth kicked up, and I bent toward her ear as my hand cruised along her arm where goosebumps rose in the wake of my touch.
My tongue nearly touched her earlobe, and my hard cock brushed her hip.
So fucking close to her, I watched as she swallowed.
She licked her lips, staring straight up at the ceiling as if she were scared to look at me.
As if she were scared to give in.
“I could do things to you that would have you screaming with pleasure, Lucia,” I whispered at her ear, licking the soft skin there.
My hand coasted toward her front, hovering over one pebbled nipple.
A moan. An arch of her back.
I skimmed my hand to her neck, my palm resting against her collarbone. I centered her in my touch, in this time, in my bed.
Lucia’s eyelashes fluttered.
I drew my lips lightly down the side of her neck, licking languidly along her humming pulse point.
Then I whispered gruffly, “But not tonight. You should sleep.”
Dense chemistry circled around us with no outlet. The deepest desires simmering unsaid between us.
I lay back down, and she finally exhaled a soft ragged breath as if I’d released her from a trance-like state.
Sleep would take a long time coming, if at all.
My cock was rigid as a rifle stock, and it was impossible to ignore the beauty in my bed as more stilted breaths stuttered from her barely parted lips.
She had a body built for sin, and I knew exactly what I’d do to her.
Cursing softly, she turned on her side away from me.
The bolas balls rattled together.
She huffed again and smacked at the pillow beneath her head while I chuckled at her discomfort.
Too bad I could still smell the scent of aroused cunt. Her pussy had been flushed and gleaming earlier. I was sure that pretty slit was in a similar swollen state now just from the few low words I’d spoken and the scant touches I’d imparted.
I moved closer to her, almost bringing my chest to her back.
My voice throaty and deep, I mentioned, “You won’t much like the consequences if you keep moving around like that, dragotsennaya printsessa.”
Her sudden stillness created another hot void, because then there was nothing but the pounding of both our hearts to be heard in the room.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way I’d rubbed my favorite weapon across her beautiful face downstairs. The sight had turned me on. Much like I wanted to rub my hard cock all over her gorgeous features and leave trails of precum across her golden skin.
She’d felt a charge too.
Something other than fear and much closer to fiery passion had shifted across her features.
I’d awoken something smoldering between us, my dark lust teasing hers to the surface. When I’d squeezed her throat then caressed her neck, her irises had dilated, and her body arched lusciously against mine. Her undeniably aroused reaction was fucking hot.
I liked a woman I could use in that way.
I grinned in the dark then sensed she’d finally fallen asleep.
Only then did I let out a long breath. Flipping to my back, I pressed a forearm over my eyes.
Sleep would not come to me so easily. Not with an aching hard-on and the scent of her all over my sheets and pillows.
An hour or so later, I took my gun and padded silently over to a chair and the small stocked drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. I reached over, lifted the window sash, and poured a nightcap. I took a seat, angled toward Lucia.
She rolled toward the center of the bed with her blue-black hair fanned all over, but she didn’t open her eyes.
I lit a cigarette, took a deep drag into my lungs, and blew the smoke out the window. Gun in hand, rigid cock in my briefs.
I wondered about this dangerous Italian beauty.
I was curious about how she’d come by her fancy gold-plated gun.
I had suspicions about her trying to do away with Kirill alone. The idea was ludicrous.
I could kill her now and eliminate immediate—though unlikely—danger.
I could keep her longer until I knew everything.
I could use her to barter with her father.
I could happily fuck her.