I cling to him, pressing my body tightly against his as he takes us to wherever the hell he lives. This is insane, I tell myself. I’m riding off with a guy who is very likely a member of the Russian mafia, and I’m about to willingly spread my legs for him. Who the fuck does that? I should tell him I’ve changed my mind and just go home and forget all about this day, but I don’t. Instead, I dip my fingers under his T-shirt and run my fingers over his bare, washboard abs and try my best to not orgasm right here on the back of my damn...