Free Avenge: #3 Romanian Mob Chronicles by Kaye Blue

question.
    Seemed he was in no mood to let me off the hook. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean anything by it,” I said rather lamely, my concentration slipping with each second that passed. Anton had come to my home, was asking me questions, something that should have had me insane with worry. Instead, I was preoccupied with how much he filled my home, how much I wanted him in my bed.
    “But what made you think it?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
    I shrugged again. “You look alike. Same eyes. I just figured…” I trailed off, watching him for a reaction.
    He said nothing, his expression rigid. I wasn’t sure what I expected, maybe anger, maybe a mild correction, something, but he just watched me.
    “Well…if there’s nothing else,” I said, moving toward the door.
    His hand on my arm stopped me, his grip strong but not punishing, turning me to face him.
    “What is it?” I whispered.
    He pulled me to him, my feet lifting without conscious thought on my part, and soon I was standing close to him, pressed against him.
    I’d wanted this, dreamed of it in fact, and the reality was better than I could have imagined. We barely touched, but his body was strong, warm against mine. Warm enough to make me want to sink into it, make me want to forget who he was.
    Anton, people like him, gave no thought to life, would have killed me without a second thought. That alone should have been enough to make me break away.
    I moved closer.
    And worse, being here, wanting him as much as I did, was the ultimate betrayal, of Braden, of myself, of all that I had dedicated my life to.
    I inched even closer, and it would be so easy to give in, to take what he offered.
    I looked up into those glittering dark eyes, saw a softness, a longing there that I might have believed I’d imagined had it not stayed. And I saw something else too, saw his desire, his promise of pleasure. I wanted that pleasure.
    It was wrong, a betrayal, but I wanted it nonetheless.
    I let out a sigh, the sound breathy, desire-filled, one that I had never heard from myself. Anton dropped his gaze to my lips and then slowly, ever so slowly, he moved forward, the tightly coiled muscles of his arms moving against my back, his manly scent enveloping me.
    Then he stopped, his lips millimeters above mine, and lifted his gaze to mine. The desire I saw swirling there sent my own spiking into the stratosphere.
    When he grazed his lips across mine, I sighed again.
    I wasn’t sure what I expected, had nothing to compare it to, but the feeling of his mouth against mine, his strong arm around my waist, sent my thoughts scattering, my mind filled with only the need to have more of the sensation. He pulled me closer then, crushing my breasts against the solid wall of his chest, his arm now a vise around my waist, but one that I welcomed, feared I would come to crave.
    He felt immovable, and I was trapped, but in the most delicious way, and I couldn’t ever imagine wanting to escape his hold. And when he eased his tongue into my mouth, the action a mix of coaxing and commanding, any remaining tendrils of resistance were drowned in a flood of the desire he created.
    With a passion and precision that didn’t surprise me at all, he kissed me, left no centimeter of my mouth untouched. When he pulled back and placed soft kisses at the corners of my lips, then moved out to kiss my cheeks, my chin, the tip of my nose, I was a bundle of nerves in his arms, anxious, needy for him to continue.
    I peeled my eyes open, barely able to lift my lids, and when my gaze met his, my heart thudded even harder. His eyes, always dark, now swirled with desire, his own lids heavy, his need apparent. He pulled me tighter to him, and I felt his solid muscle against my chest, the insistent press of his hardness against my stomach.
    My eyes flew open wider then, and I looked at him closer, saw the pulse of his heart at his neck, the slightly jagged edge to his breath, the tension that seemed coiled through his