Austin roars off on his Harley before I can say good-bye because I’m stuck gagging on Dimitri’s hot and invasive tongue. I don’t deny his hand on the small of my back or his protruding cock pressing against my gut because I can’t. I’m defenseless against a man whose touch makes my knees Jell-O and sends my panties straight to a pool on the ground.
But one whiff of a woman’s cheap cologne on his collar stops my needs cold and snaps my coochie shut. Really? For all I know, his side piece (or pieces) is still here.
His hand slides down, cupping my ass more delicately than I’m sure he’d prefer. “Let’s go inside,” he says like I’m an idiot. “Before I take off.”
“You’re leaving again?” I ask, dizzier from his kiss than I want to admit.
“I leave for the airport in an hour. But an hour’s plenty of time,” he says with his lips against my neck, tearing down each of my feeble defenses breath by mind-wrecking breath.
“I . . .” Seriously, I’m trying to resist, but as his thumb grazes my nipple, I realize I’m in way over my head. His thigh wedges between my legs as I’m struggling for my next breath.
That is, until I hear—and feel—another breath.
Alexei, Dimitri’s six-foot-five, three-hundred-pound personal bodyguard, doesn’t seem to know how to interrupt except to heave an open-mouthed breath right on me. The warm moisture ruffles my hair, reeking of cheap cigarettes and Big Macs.
Dimitri pulls away from me, and I see the phone Alexei holds, noticing both the caller’s name and that the mute is on. Dimitri’s eyes narrow and I sink, knowing his dick is in the painful state of rapid deflation.
“I’ll just be a moment,” he says with a rough peck on my lips.
His lie is typical. As is his taking the call, walking away, and having immediate amnesia that I was two seconds from letting him fuck me out in the open, for God and three bodyguards to see.
Alexei is still gaping at me as I stand there, clinging to my pride and soaked panties, when I notice a half-naked woman blowing cigarette smoke out the window of Dimitri’s bedroom.
Pissed, I stalk back to my car, frustrated that Dimitri had me so turned around, I completely forgot to break up with the son of a bitch when I had the chance. As soon as I grip the steering wheel, the brilliance of a ten-carat diamond flashes in my face, and by God, it’s not too late. But I can’t interrupt his call. Even I know nothing good can come from that.
Resolute, I climb my ass out of the car, stomping as hard as my enraged legs and five-inch Louboutins will let me, and face my mule head on. “Alexei.”
“Huh?” he asks with wide, curious eyes and an even wider mouth that makes me wonder if it ever closes.
Defiant as all get-out, I yank the ring from my finger, grab his ginormous hand that looks like it’s overinflated with helium, and slam it right into his palm.
Before he can protest, I’m back in my car, circling that beautiful stone fountain, mentally flipping Dimitri the bird, and ignoring Alexei’s thickly accented shouts of wait and stop.
When hell freezes over.