Page 23 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

As I start to read, Boris leans back into the chaise beside me and closes his eyes. I might worry he’s fallen asleep, but I see his face reacting as I read. His lips are a distraction as they twitch in response to funnier lines in the book. I want to kiss those lips more than I’d like to admit.

I read about three chapters before a big yawn interrupts me. Boris opens his eyes and studies me.

“You’re tired.”

“It’s way past my bedtime.”

“One more chapter and then I’ll go?”

I can’t say no to him. I cannot. And I certainly don’t want to, either. And then there is the fact that he’s still half-naked. So, I swallow my lust and turn the page.

I start the next chapter, but this time he doesn’t close his eyes. He watches me the whole time. Every word. That dark look returns to his eyes—the one I saw when we were dancing at the club together.

Is he…turned on? By my reading?

I finish the chapter and then mark the page.

We stare at each other for a long time and my breathing feels labored.

I can’t deny it. I am very, very attracted to this man.

He seems…just so good. A good guy. It’s so much more than him having a handsome face and a chiseled body.

It’s Boris, the man. It’s all of him. I like everything about him, and now at least I should start by being honest, and by admitting that I want him.

He’s still a client, though. I made myself a promise I wouldn’t cross the line ever again.

I stand abruptly, LuLu flying off the chaise with an annoyed meow. The blanket falls to the floor as I grab for it, stammering something about needing to check my phone to see if Parker has messaged me.

He’s right there, on his feet, so close to me.

His big body fills up the space between us, and suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.

But now I know it’s not just me, because I can see the bulge in his jeans.

He’s hard. Words come out of his mouth in that raspy, ultra-sexy, Boris-speak he does so well.

I have no idea what he just said, because I can’t tear my eyes away from his huge cock pushing against denim fabric.

There you have it. I’m weak.

And so very turned on by the sexy-Boris show that I’m no longer a rational woman trying to do the right thing.

Everything aches. My nipples are hard, straining against the lace of my bra.

I’m wet, aching, and hot between my legs.

And then I notice his nipples are hard, too, and I can’t help it.

Goddamn, I can’t help it. I reach out and touch him.

I touch his bare chest with my palm before running a fingertip over his nipple.

He shivers, a soft moan coming from somewhere deep in his throat. His face is intense, his eyes so, so dark and hungry.

I pull away, biting one side of my bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have crossed that line.”

“I’m going to kiss you now, Talia.”

I barely make out his words, he said them so quietly. But still, he’s warning me for what’s about to happen. It’s now on me to put a stop to this.

I can’t.

I won’t…

He leans down closer…closer…

And then his lips are touching mine and his hand is snaking into my hair to cradle my head. His other hand is on my lower back pulling me firmly against him as he takes full control of the kiss.

And I’m hopelessly and utterly lost to him. Whatever he’s going to do I am fully on board. Yes, please, yes.

It’s not a hard kiss, but it’s not gentle either.

It’s perfect as Boris works on giving me a kiss I’ll never forget for as long as I live.

His lips move over mine as if he’s trying to devour me.

He flicks his tongue against my bottom lip, demanding more.

I open to him as his tongue licks against mine, ravishing my mouth with masterful control.

He kisses me in a way that leaves me reeling with only one thought in mind.

I need so much more of this.

He kisses me like he owns me. Tasting me over and over and over until I’m dizzy with desire, melting into his hard body, letting him hold me up. And he definitely is holding me up, for now.

Maybe he can read my mind because he presses me back down onto the chaise and crawls on top of me.

Not crushing me but caging me in underneath him.

I feel so small beneath his big body, but it feels perfect and right because we fit together like puzzle pieces waiting to be snapped in place.

The hard length of his cock rocking into me is making me so wet for him.

I sigh when he nudges my legs apart with his knees and sinks deeper against me, his hips rocking his hard cock over my sensitive clit in tandem with what his tongue is doing in my mouth.

A steady rhythm of sexy that will give me a fantastic orgasm if he keeps doing it and doesn’t stop.

Oh God, I will die if he stops.

It’s ecstasy being held and kissed and caressed by someone who knows what he’s doing.

He takes my bottom lip in his teeth and gives me a gentle bite.

He does it over and over—his teeth coming together to snag my lip in a tenuous hold before dragging away until it pops free again.

I’m delirious, and utterly past trying to keep control, to keeping this sweet and light between us.

It’s no longer sweet when I take his hand and guide it down the front of the thin leather leggings I wore tonight.

It’s no longer light when he fingers my pussy and feels how wet he’s made me.

It’s downright dirty and delicious when I slide my hand inside the front of his jeans to find his cock pulsing hot and hard, wrap my fingers around the silky skin, and stroke him up and down.

He growls into my mouth and rasps out some Russian words.

I have no idea what he just said but my active imagination is extremely good at visualizing.

It sounded animalistic, like a man telling me what he’d like for us to do.

I want to fuck you.

Yes, yes, yes…

And then Boris does the one thing that will most certainly cause my imminent death.

I will die now.

Because he just stopped.