I try to think of anything other than the man standing behind me. I'm a risk assessment consultant for a firm moving large loans around the world; I've never been shot at. The worst thing in my day is the printer down on the third floor not having any toner and I'm wearing all white. But the guy standing behind me seems to have no problem being shot at. He seems right in his element.
Hell, ever since he took me by the hip and did some kick-ass dance move that kept me from dying, he's been cool and calm and one hundred percent in control. I want to be him when I grow up. Of course, if I was him I could also touch myself on a daily basis and that would be totally awesome. God, don't think naughty thoughts. It will send me straight to hell if the last thing on my mind before I'm killed is about wanking off if I had a dick.
In my defense the man currently holding me plastered to him is fucking hot. He looks like something out of a movie with his ice-blue eyes and Russian or Ukraine accent. I've been eye-fucking him for weeks and texting my bestie about the hot coffee guy who comes in sometimes at the café closest to where I work. I've stopped going to any of the other places along the route I take between work and home.
His eyes remind me of a frozen lake from my home state, pure icy blue. I know what those eyes can do because I've seen what the lake can do to people. Both the man and the lake are deadly if you go too close, which is why I was fine admiring his beauty from a distance and now I'm too close. I fell in. He has tattoos peeking out of his jacket and I can see a couple on his hands. Not that I'm judging but if I had to go up against this guy in a dark alley and the prick lawyer I would totally choose the lawyer and that's saying a lot since I wouldn't be anywhere alone with that bastard for anything.
I realize that I'm alone with tall, dark and Russian and he's not murdered me, yet. Of course, I haven't done any talking either. People generally find me too much, I talk too loud, I stand too close, I don't stand close enough. If there is a wrong way to do something I am going to find, and excel at it. Not really an endearing quality.
On the other hand, the guy I'm with does currently have his hand pressed into the soft fleshy part of my belly and I am really wondering why I don't take all the yoga classes I've seen signs for all over my workplace, damn it. Back to what I was saying, he has his hands all over me. I think he might have gotten further than some of my old high school boyfriends. He's bossy, pushy, handsy and doesn't say much. Over half of the things he has said to me could have been taken as a threat. But he's also my only hope for getting out of here alive and he seems to know what the hell he's doing so I'm sticking close to him. Maybe not as close as I am right now since you couldn't wiggle a piece of paper between the two of us and I can feel every hard muscle the man hides under his oversized hoodies and pull-overs.
"Fuck," it's never a good thing when someone like him cusses. I glance up at him as he looks down at me. I'm short and fuck that. If I wasn't we would totally be mouth to mouth right now. "They're coming in."
What the hell does that mean?
"Lose the shoes princess."
What the hell is his deal with my shoes?
"No." He literally growls at me but he takes me by the hand and leads us to the middle of the room. He moves to the access panel that leads to the roof and pushes the thing open the best he can. He takes me by the hips again and raises me in the air like I don't weigh a thing. I get the drift of what he wants me to do and grab hold of the edge and pull myself up again. It's even dustier up here. I lie on my back for a minute until my big Russian comes up and over me.
I don't realize I've spread my legs apart on either side of him until he grabs my thigh with one of his big, dirty hands and his flesh connects with mine. Holy Mother Russia! If I have to die, then at least I got my chance to have someone as sexy and alpha as this man between my legs. Not that I would know what to do with someone like him. Goosebumps pop out on my skin like I've touched an electric fence.
"Listen, sweetheart as much as I would love to have your sweet pussy wrapped around me right now, this really isn't the time."
I can't believe he just said that to me. My mouth is hanging open in shock right now and I have no witty reply to that. Especially since I was kind of thinking about what it would be like to have him deep inside of me. Before I can say a word he's up and opening the roof panel up so we can go outside.
And son-of-a-bitch I forgot its closer to winter than to summer. I try to think warm thoughts as the wind catches my loosened hair and tries to throw it in my face. He mutters something in Russian maybe but I figure he'll switch to English if he wants me to understand him. He goes to the side of the building that connects to the little store next door. I let him stalk back and forth, waiting for him to figure out what to do next.
He grabs my hand while walking/running me over to the little ladder that goes to its roof. It's one story higher than the building we're on. I'm about to put my hand on the first rung when he drops to his knees and I'm guessing this isn't a marriage proposal. He takes my ankle in his hand and before I can stop him he launches my shoe into the fall sky and the other one follows. I'm stunned. He just threw my fucking shoes away. I spent two paychecks on those shoes. I almost prefer death over the Shoe Killer.
"Up." As if I was going to try to go down, genius.
"You are buying me more shoes." I make it a point to tell him as I turn to grasp the handles of the iron ladder. He smacks me on the ass.
"Look, princess, if you climb your ass up that ladder so I can get us to safety I'll buy you a fucking shoe company. Now move your hot ass."
I turn back to focus on my climb. He said my ass was hot. I'm having a reaction to the shock I'm sure because in no other circumstance would I be okay with someone manhandling me, calling me princess, and just throwing my shoes away without even asking me.
Even though my hands are sweaty I scurry up the ladder not wanting the man to think I'm falling behind. He might leave me then and I would have no way down unless the killers come up here which is not really a solution to the problem just a bigger problem. Before I can reach the top of the building to launch myself over, the guy is behind me on the same rung and everything. His body is covering my own and I'm finding it hard to focus on keeping my grip. One of his hands goes over my mouth to stop me from talking and we both listen as the door to the access space slams open. He pushes both of us over the lip of the building and this time he's the one spreading my legs and pushing himself down on me.
His hand is still over my mouth and his head is so close to my breasts that he might as well lay down and make himself comfy. Even though he is closer than a cheap suit on a fat guy, he's not paying attention to me. When he cocks his head I realize he's listening and I start listening too. He reaches behind him slowly and pulls out the gun he put in the waistband of his jeans.