The Professional by Kresley Cole Page A

hooded eyes flicked over my face, then lower. “What were you dreaming of to make these so hard?”
    I followed his glance down. My nipples were stiff against the fabric of the shirt I wore.
    “Tell me, pet, why were you on the verge of a wet dream?”
    I couldn’t resist him before; now, on this bed, hearing his rumbling, seductive voice, I feared I was defenseless. No! Be strong, Nat. “Why do you insist on calling me pet?”
    “Maybe because you make a man want to collar and keep you.”
    “Right.” I knew he was just being a smart-ass, but the idea gave me shivers.
    “Tell me about your dream.”
    “Why should I? You’ll just give me that disgusted look and go all icy again.”
    “Icy? That’s the last thing I feel right now.”
    I swallowed when he began unfastening the buttons on the shirt, spreading the lapels just shy of baring my breasts.
    “What are you doing?” I demanded. But I wanted them bared, wanted him to see them and desire me.
    Hey, I was on vacation from my life, right? So why couldn’t this man be my fall holiday fling?
    He took the starched edge of the shirt and lightly scraped it over my left nipple. Oh, God, oh, God . . .
    “I caught just a glimpse of your nipples when you were in the bath. Do you know that my mouth watered to suck them?” He’d wanted to put his mouth on them. Picturing that scrambled my thoughts.
    Another scrape.
    “Y-you need to stop that.” I hadn’t thought the tips could get harder. They tightened almost painfully.
    “Yes, tell me to stop and to leave you alone.” Scrape. “Tell me that I frighten you, and I’m not to touch you.” Scrape.
    I choked back a moan. “You don’t frighten me. And the only reason I don’t want you to touch me is because you won’t follow through, and I’ve been sexually tortured enough tonight.”
    Including now, I’d been on the verge of orgasm three times—all because of this man.
    He gave a low, sexy laugh. “You think I’ve tortured you? MaybeI should show you what real torture is.” His tone was forbidding; so why was my pussy clenching with anticipation? “Then perhaps you would rail at me to find me in your bed.”
    “Is that what you want?”
    “It’s what I would have expected from you. And if you tell me to leave you, I will.”
    “Answer me, Sevastyan. Is that what you want?”
    He didn’t say a word; scrape .
    “Ahh!” I licked my bottom lip, struggling for words. “You confuse me so much! Since you refuse to tell me anything, I’m going to tell you everything . I find you extremely attractive. When your eyes are like this, all gold and smoldering, you are pretty much irresistible to me. I think you were right; I did approach you in the bar because I wanted to have sex with you.”
    His firm lips parted. Then he shook his head hard, as if to dislodge whatever idea had just taken hold. “You wouldn’t have done so if you knew me better. I am an enforcer, a contract killer, and I pity you for piquing the lusts of a man like me.”
    In a soft voice, I said, “But you piqued mine too. So what do we do now?”
    “If you knew the thoughts in my head, you would not be so welcoming. You wouldn’t like it in my bed. I have particular interests, and I demand obedience.”
    “Obedience.” Was that my titillated tone? “Like my doing whatever you command?”
    He nodded, eyes alight at the prospect.
    Why did that sound so unbearably erotic? I’d never relished being ordered around at my jobs. But in this context—in bed with a domineering man—the idea excited me. “Why do you demand it?”
    “I don’t like surprises. If you do as I say, there will be none.”
    I nibbled my lip, giving this some thought. “What kind of interests?”
    “I need to do filthy things to your body, Natalya. And I know I never can.” His voice was almost . . . forlorn.
    Filthy? That sounded so freaking hot. “Why can’t you?”
    “You are taboo to me. No woman is more so.”
    Because I was the boss’s