You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 1) by Georgia le Carre Page A

me a bad girl?
    My pulse starts throbbing hard. ‘Well, you did leave the champagne in a very accessible place,’ I reason.
    ‘That’s true,’ he concedes generously.
    ‘I could make it up to you,’ I suggest.
    He takes my right ankle in his warm hand. It’s like a molten spike of sensation, but I don’t fidget or react. I keep my palms firmly glued to the surface of the desk on either side of me. With a mocking smile he removes my shoe and lets it drop to the floor. A half-grin tugs at his mouth. ‘Oh yeah?’
    That half grin turns my insides to mush. My face feels flushed. His hand on my ankle is doing things to me, making me tingle. ‘Yeah,’ I whisper, my voice husky.
    He takes off the other shoe. ‘How?’ he purrs.
    Jesus! My brain feels completely addled. ‘I don’t know. I do give an incredible blowjob.’
    Something flashes in his eyes. He drops the shoe. ‘That’s good to know, but I’m afraid, we Russians, we’re big on honoring debts and keeping our word. If we say we’ll be somewhere in an hour, we make sure we’re there.’
    I think for a moment. ‘We Americans are too. And that is why I am sitting on your fucking table without my panties.’
    He eyes me hungrily as if I’m food or prey. ‘It warms my heart to hear that Americans honor their word.’
    I smile seductively. ‘Hmmm … but I heard somewhere that you ate your own heart.’ Let him know that I’m not backing down.
    Laughter pours out of him like oil from a jar. Smooth, golden, dazzling. ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Dahlia moy . Now be a good girl and open your legs. I want to fuck you.’
    I lick my dry lips. ‘Just like that?’
    ‘Uh … huh.’
    ‘And it’s always going to be like this?’
    He raises his eyebrows. ‘Like what?’
    ‘So emotionless.’
    He considers the question. ‘I guess so.’
    ‘Why? Why does it have to be so cold and impersonal?’
    A smooth shrug. ‘Because I like it so.’
    I swallow hard. ‘Or maybe because you are afraid?’ I whisper.
    Dizzying seconds pass. His eyes glitter dangerously, and I see the helldamned shadow inside him, but then, he laughs. ‘Afraid of what, little one?’ he queries softly.
    ‘Of feeling something.’
    ‘Something for you?’ he mocks.
    I don’t let my expression show my embarrassment. ‘For any woman,’ I bite back.
    He looks at me curiously, intrigued. ‘What would make it less … cold for you?’
    ‘Maybe if we kissed?’
    His expression does not change. ‘Go ahead. Kiss me.’
    I lean forward and instantly his scent envelops me. Heady. I let my hands drift up to his wide shoulders and settle on those lean muscles. I start moving towards him. His lips come closer and closer to mine. Hell, must he be so gorgeous?
    My heart is beating so loud he probably hears it. Breathlessly, I let my mouth dust the side of his neck, and he becomes completely rigid. Under my fingers his muscles are hard and tense. Not exactly the reaction I am looking for, but at least he’s not immune. I nuzzle at a madly throbbing pulse and treat it to delicate little kisses. Soft, innocent butterfly whispers.
    Leaving that fiercely beating pulse I rest my forehead against his. My hands rise up to capture his face. His skin feels like raw silk against the palms of my hands. His warmth seeps through. My lips part and so do his. Our breaths mingle.
    As bold as a lamb approaching a lion, I let our lips touch. 
    His mouth is soft and full. He tastes of coffee and something magical. Savoring the taste I move my mouth over his, gently and suggestively … deepening the kiss. My whole body flushes with heat and euphoria. From the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. Warmth spills out of my heart. Oh God! How long has it been since I felt like this? Smoldering heat uncurls deep inside me.
    Then I realize.
    He is not kissing me back.
    I draw back slightly, the lovely heat inside me evaporating like mist in the morning sunlight. He remains still and unresponsive. I lift my