“You must trust me, pet,” he said as he reached forward to gently grasp my chin.
At his touch, that dizzying heat filled me once more. It was just the liquor at work, I assured myself, or exhaustion catching up with me. Or my unsuccessful bath time.
“You know my intent isn’t to harm you,” he murmured. “Otherwise, I could have led you from that bar earlier, taking you somewhere for us to be alone.” My breaths went shallow at that. “Would you not have left with me?”
In—a—heartbeat.
He leaned down to say at my ear, “That’s right, Natalya. You would have followed where I led.”
“Um . . . uh . . .” I was still recovering from the sound of my name in his raspy accent when I felt his warm breaths. Oh, God, had his lips ghosted over my ear? If his scent and heat had affected me, this grazing contact made my legs weak.
He drew back, expression inscrutable. “So why don’t you stop acting like you haven’t already made up your mind to come with me.”
“P-pardon?”
“You were decided as soon as you heard the words Russia, father, and go.” His firm lips thinned, making that razor-slice scar whiten.
“That’s not necessarily true—”
“Time’s up, pet.” He bent down to loop an arm around my ass, hoisting me over his shoulder.
Chapter 3
“PUT ME DOWN!” I screeched, wriggling over the Neanderthal’s shoulder as he strode out the front door. Cold air swept up my robe, chilling me in unfamiliar places. “You can’t do this!”
He tightened his grip on my ass. “Doing it.” His tone was casual; he wasn’t even out of breath.
Another futile round of squirming. “Please put me down. We’ll go back inside”—I’ll run away—“and then I can pack, just like you said.”
Three passersby ambled down the sidewalk, huge no-neck guys in letterman jackets. Husker football players! They stopped and gawked.
Hanging upside down, blood rushing to my head, I opened my mouth to scream for their help—then hesitated. Did I believe what Sevastyan had told me? Was I beset by an overbearing ass**le of a bodyguard—or being abducted? If I screamed, the jocks would kick Sevastyan’s ass, which wouldn’t help me get to Russia—
This decision, just like the previous one, was yanked out of my hands. Sevastyan turned to face them, slowly shaking his head. Whatever look he gave them made three massive football players hotfoot the other way.
As they vanished, I pounded on Sevastyan’s back in frustration, stunned to feel a holster. He was carrying a gun! I didn’t have time to register my shock before he was shoving me into the front passenger seat of a luxe Mercedes.
As soon as he shut the door, I lunged for the handle, but he’d already clicked the lock, holding it down with the remote.
At his door, he gave me a look of warning through the window. He knew he’d have to release the lock button to get in, giving me a chance to escape. The unlock game. I would time it perfectly, reflexes like lightning—
Shit! He’d opened his door, then jammed the lock button back down before I could open my side!
He slid his big body into the car. “Better luck with that next time.”
“This is kidnapping!”
“I told you my intentions. Gave you a countdown.” He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. “Understand me, Natalie, I do exactly what I say I’ll do. Always.” He smoothly executed turn after turn, as if he knew this town as well as I did. “And right now I’m telling you that I will get you safely to your father in Russia.”
“How do you think you’ll get me through airport security like this?” I waved my hands to indicate my robe. “I don’t even have my purse!”
“We’re going to a private airport. And by the time we land in Moscow, you’ll have all new clothes brought to the jet.”
New clothes? Jet? Was he serious?
His gaze landed on my legs, on my half-bared thighs. And with that one dark glance, my skin flushed. I couldn’t help recalling the way he’d looked down on me in the bath.
Like a hungry predator eyeing tender prey.
Like I was already a caught thing, his to enjoy. I shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “You look . . . chilled.”
Chilled? Oh. Because my ni**les were still jutting. Yes, I was cold, but my body was also suffering the aftereffects of my foiled mast***ation attempt. To be so close, drawing in on myself . . .
In some ways, I felt the same now. Tense, drawn, my skin prickling with awareness each time he looked at me.
When I didn’t answer him, Sevastyan turned on the heater, and hot air blasted against my chest, over the hypersensitive tips of my br**sts. I nearly yelped when I felt the seat warmer toasting the cleft of my ass. In the close confines of the car, I got another hit of his mind-numbing scent.
So much stimulation. Could he see me trembling?
Once we were on the main highway heading out of town, the car purring along at eighty miles per hour, he commanded, “Put on your seat belt.”
I didn’t like this tone at all, heard it constantly at my server jobs. “Or what?” I narrowed my eyes. “And did you really call me pet earlier?”
“When I tell you to do something, it’s in your best interest to do it, pet.” Without warning, he reached over to yank my seat belt into place, roughly grazing my br**sts with his forearm, filling my head with his scent. I squirmed on the hot seat, feeling dazed by this arrogant man.