The Professional by Kresley Cole Page B

daughter? Was this why Sevastyan had been running hot and cold with me? “We’re in this cabin alone. No one ever has to know what goes on between us. Maybe we should try to get this out of our systems before we land.”
    He looked like he was actually considering my proposal. “Have you ever relinquished control of your body to a man?”
    Breathless, I shook my head. I’d wondered what it’d be like to be dominated; this man could relieve my curiosity. And that was the great thing about vacation flings: you could go crazy, do things you never would otherwise, and suffer zero consequences.
    Right?
    Did I have the nerve to try this? I recalled when I was twelve, the neighboring farm boy had dared me to jump off a train trestle into the creek below. Atop the tracks, I’d been terrified, shaking like a fledgling. But I’d forced myself to step off that ledge into nothing.
    Into a free fall.
    I remembered screaming with fear all the way down. Then I remembered kicking up through the water and breaking the surface, triumphant, to cast that boy a suck it grin.
    All the terror had been worth it, just for that reward. Would the same prove true tonight?
    “Could you give me absolute obedience, Natalie?”
    Gut check. Could I step off the ledge once more? My honestanswer: “I won’t know until we try.” I reached for his chest, stroking over a tattoo. His muscles rippled to my touch.
    When my thumb brushed his flat nipple, he inhaled sharply. “I’ve warned you of what I’ll expect, I’ve warned you about what kind of man I am. And you still push? I’ll give you a taste that will send you fleeing from me. This will be out of your system—because you will fear me. . . .”

CHAPTER 8

    F ear him? I swallowed audibly. Did I dare go along with this?
    “Spread your thighs,” he commanded, rising above me.
    It seemed I was still under the influence—of him; I tentatively opened my legs.
    He positioned himself between them. Clutching the shirt lapels in his fists, he snatched open the rest of the buttons, yanking the shirt from me—until my naked breasts quivered before his predator’s gaze.
    My body was completely bared and defenseless, and his behavior should have made me nervous. Instead, I had to concentrate to keep my hips from undulating.
    “If you want more, then put your hands behind your neck.”
    I blinked up at him. “What?” Make my position even more vulnerable?
    “Do it, and do not move them. Sdavaisya .” Surrender.
    “I-I don’t know.”
    “I didn’t ask .”
    I hesitated, but then curiosity and this aching horniness demanded I do as he said.
    When I laced my fingers at my nape, he said, “Good girl.” For long moments, he stared at me with such a possessive gaze, it was almost palpable. Finally his hands descended on me, gripping my waist. When his fingers almost touched, I was struck by how much larger he was than I, how much larger he was than anybody I’d ever fooled around with. Would he think me too small?
    He rubbed his rough palms up my sides, pronouncing me “ideal’naya.”  It meant perfect, or, more specifically, unimprovable.
    I sighed with pleasure. “I thought you didn’t like the way I look.”
    He raised his face, all consternation. “When did I ever give you that impression, pet?”
    “Far from your type? Ring a bell?”
    “I meant that—literally. You are different from the women I’ve been with.” More to himself, he said, “Night and day.”
    I imagined him with cool, statuesque beauties from the north, felt like a runt in comparison. That feeling was short-lived—because he moved his attention to my breasts.
    Cupping them from the bottom, he nearly circled them with his big hands. Avoiding my nipples, he kneaded with a practiced touch that was just this side of rough. But I loved it, arching to him.
    Again and again, he palmed me, plumping the mounds until the rest of my body begged for contact—which he seemed determined to withhold.
    “What are you