Devil's Lair (Molotov Obsession #1) - Anna Zaires Page 0,24

bed.

Slender brown arm in a pool of blood… Gun in a black-gloved hand… Huge pickup truck barreling toward me…

A fresh surge of adrenaline propels me to my feet despite the pain. Sucking in air, I fumble in the darkness for a lamp switch. My hand lands on the bed, and I feel my way over to the nightstand.

The bedside lamp comes on at my touch, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. My knees buckle with relief, and I sink onto the mattress, letting the light push away the lingering bits and pieces of the nightmare.

It was just a dream.

I’m safe.

They can’t get to me here.

After a couple of minutes, I feel steady enough to stand, and I walk over to the bathroom to rinse off the sweat drying on my skin. Before doing so, I flick off the lamp, as I ran out of clean clothes to sleep in but couldn’t figure out how to work the blinds on the window. There’s probably a button hidden somewhere, but I was too tired to find it last night. As soon as I got to my room, I stripped off my clothes, hand-washed my shirt and underwear in the sink so I’d have something clean to wear in the morning, and passed out the second my head hit the pillow.

Even worries about my disturbingly attractive employer couldn’t keep me awake.

Now, though, as I stand in the shower, my mind turns to him, and my heartbeat revs up, my breath quickening with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

Nikolai wants me.

I think.

Maybe.

I could be wrong.

Or… not.

Heat pools low in my belly, my breasts tightening as I picture the darkly intent look in his eyes and replay the things he said… and how he said them. No, I’m not wrong. At least not about his attraction to me. It’s possible he was just toying with me and has no intention of acting on said attraction, but I don’t think so.

I think he intends to fuck me, and I have no idea how I feel about that.

Actually, that’s a lie. My mind might be torn, but my body is very straightforward in its feelings. The heat inside me intensifies, an aching tightness coiling deep inside my core as I imagine what it would be like if he came up to my room at this very moment and knocked on my door… then, not getting a response, opened it and walked in.

If he was sitting on the bed, waiting, when I came out of the bathroom naked.

My eyes drift shut, my hands cupping my breasts, then sliding down my body as I picture him standing up and walking toward me… reaching out to touch me. My fingers slip between my thighs, where I’m slick and aching, and I imagine it’s his hand, his cruelly sensual mouth down there. My breath hitches as the ache transforms into a heated throb, my leg muscles quivering with rising tension, and with a sudden burst of sensation, I come, my toes curling on the wet tiles as I lean against the glass wall of the stall, gasping for air.

Stunned, I open my eyes and pull my hand away, my heart racing madly in my chest.

I can’t believe what’s just happened. I’ve never been able to orgasm this way before, with only my fingers. Normally, I need a minimum of fifteen minutes with my vibrator—or for a guy to go down on me for a half hour—and even then, it’s hit or miss, depending on how stressed or tired I am. Arousal is very much a mental thing for me, which is why I’ve never gone for casual hookups.

I have to know a man to get intimate with him.

I have to like and trust him.

Or at least that’s what I’d always thought. I have no idea if I like Nikolai, and I certainly don’t trust him.

So why does the mere thought of him bring me to the brink of orgasm?

Why am I drawn to a man who makes me feel like hunted prey?

The light falling on my face pulls me out of a sound sleep, and I groan, rolling over to escape it. But it’s everywhere, bright and warm, and it dawns on me that it must be morning, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Forcing open my heavy eyelids, I sit up and rub my face. Though I went right back to sleep after my impromptu masturbation session, I still feel tired, as if I’ve gotten only a few