Russian Hitman's Innocent American (14 page)

Nobody would have recognized the ice-cold killer from Moscow in that moment. He dropped his inhibitions and loosened his muscles. He snagged her hips in his hands and let her motions guide his.

They moved together, bodies rubbing lightly. The friction between them sent a rush of blood to his groin. His cock hardened, and he angled his hips away from hers lest he let her know exactly how much she affected him.

Dmitry splayed his palms against her ribs. She laughed, and the sound mingled with the music. When she dipped backward, he was ready. He held her steady as she let her head hang low. Her breasts bobbed before him, and he had to forcefully bite back the urge to cup them in his hands.

He pulled her upright, and she flung her arms around his neck. It was the most natural thing in the world to wrap her in his embrace and let the rhythm take them. He hadn’t danced like this in decades. His body flowed with the techno beat, his muscles knowing their purpose before his brain gave the orders. He didn’t let go like this anymore. Not in his personal life, and certainly not in his professional one. It was exhilarating.

She sank her fingers into his hair and stood on tiptoe. The position mashed her soft breasts against him. He slowly lowered his head, pausing to give her the chance to move away. She stared up at him with those beautiful blue eyes instead.

The first touch of his lips to hers was electric. He had the sensation of vertigo as if his world had just shifted on its axis. Instinctively, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

Someone grabbed his shoulder. “Enough!”

Reflex and instinct took over completely. Dmitry circled Anna in one arm and placed his body between her and the perceived threat. Grabbing the hand on his shoulder, he tightened his grip and twisted. Dmitry already had the individual on his knees when he realized it was Vassily.

Anna actually giggled. “I suppose that will teach him to keep his hands to himself.”

Dmitry let go of Vassily. The man dropped to the floor. Several dancers were backing away in alarm, pointing at Vassily and yelling to one other. It was time for him to go, and he knew it. Making a spectacle of himself in public when he was in town to do a job was the epitome of stupid.

“I’ll leave you now,” Dmitry told Anna. Cupping her face in his palms, he kissed her lightly.

“I never gave you my number,” she murmured. Slipping her hand into his jeans pocket, she pulled out his phone. She dialed a number on the little touchscreen. “Call me.”

Dmitry stayed silent, choosing to walk away instead. Whether or not he called her was irrelevant. Anna would be with him forever. He would never forget the feeling of her in his arms or the taste of her lips. But he wasn’t a man with options. His path was set. And for now, Anna was better off if he walked the other way.

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