Page 6 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

Too quickly, he snatches up my left hand and holds it between us. The empty ring finger faces me.

“Give him a call, then,” he chuckles, calling my bluff. “Tell him you’ll be late getting home tonight. You might a little worn out, too.”

I try to stop from trembling too noticeably. “He’s a, uh… police officer. On duty. Out protecting the city from people like you, so he isn’t home right now. But he actually has a tracking device on my phone,” I lie again, even more unconvincingly. “I’m sure he’s already on his way to find out what’s going on since I’m not home yet.”

“Great. Then I’ll keep you company until he gets here. You know… to make sure the guys after me don’t find you instead,” he says.

He taps his fingers against my wrist before brushing slowly down my arm. It feels like he’s flaying me open. Heat radiates through my bones and settles between my legs.

I’m pulsing. Literally, full-on pulsing, like my whole body is one giant, frantic heartbeat.

“I’m serious.” My voice is barely above a whisper. My heart is beating so fast it’s hard to get air to my lungs. “You should go.”

“I probably should. But that’s not what matters.”

“What matters then?”

He walks towards me, backing me up to the exam table. I’m pinned between the metal edge of the table and him.

His body heat scorches me through my scrubs. His head drops down until his lips are next to my ear. He smells like cedarwood. Gunsmoke. Blood.

“What matters is if you actually believe that I’m walking out of this room without tasting you,” he whispers.

A shiver moves down my spine. Before I can answer, the man grabs my hips and lifts me onto the exam table. Without a second thought, I wrap my legs around his waist.

And just like that, my fate is sealed.

So much for a poker face. I’ve revealed my entire hand.

The man laughs softly and slides his hand under my shirt, the calloused skin of his fingers sliding up my trembling ribs.

“That’s what I thought.”

My entire body is on fire. The feeling of his warm body between my legs is enough to turn me into an animal.

Suddenly, I don’t care about whether this is right and wrong. I don’t care about the promise I made to myself eighteen months ago. I don’t care who this man is or what will happen afterward.

The only thing I care about is the pure carnal need roaring to life inside of me.

Before rational thought can break through, I grab the man’s head and pull his face to mine. Our bodies meld together—lips, chests, hips.

The table is tall, but so is he. Tall enough that our centers match up perfectly. While I reach down and unzip his fly, he grabs the waistband of my scrubs and yanks them down.

“What am I doing?” I ask out loud as I kick off my pants in a flurry of movement.

The man answers by grabbing the side of my cotton panties and ripping them clean off. Effortlessly powerful. He opens his fist and the flimsy material of my underwear flutters to the floor.

The table beneath me is cold, but I only have a second to think about it before he frees himself from his boxers.

“Fuck,” I whisper. He’s huge.

There are so many questions I should be asking him. So many doubts I should be having. Any normal person would hesitate here and reconsider.

But I’m lost in a haze of lust for a man I don’t even know.

His breathing is heavy as he positions himself at my entrance. I don’t wait for him to thrust—I pull myself onto him. Our bodies meet with a smack of connection as I toss my head back and revel in how it feels to be filled.

Really,reallyfilled.

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