by Diana Bell
After all, if his next mark is one of my cousins or my brothers, then I want to do everything I can to protect them.
And if this protects them, so be it.
Thinking about how incredible it felt as Lucian's hips moved against mine, though... well, no harm in having a little fun for myself while I'm at it.
I quiet the part of me that actually enjoys his company — he's much wittier than I had expected. Although, it occurs to me that it's silly to not expect a hitman to be a quick thinker.
"You still there, Mia?" Uncle Georgie interrupts my reverie.
"I will, don't worry about me. I'll call you when I get home later, 'kay?" I say. He makes a noise of agreement, and I hang up the phone.
I open another drawer. Empty.
Weird.
The door to the office opens suddenly, and I try to look as though I've just been playing with my phone, standing near the desk. That seems believable.
"Hey, sorry about that," Lucian says.
"Oh, it's okay. I get that you're very busy and important," I tease.
He rolls his eyes, crossing the room in long strides. He's in a hurry, already under my spell.
Good.
"Now, where were we?"
He can barely keep his hands off me in the backseat of the car on the way back to his place.
He pulls me into his lap, and I wiggle, feeling his erection pressing against my thigh.
I glance at the driver, trying to judge if I've seen him or not, but Lucian must mistake my look for shyness, because he says, "Shh, don't worry about him." He rolls up the partition between the front and backseat.
This is the second time I've been completely alone with Lucian — does he not think that women are a danger? Because for a hitman, he underestimates me.
He nips at my neck as he slides his hand up my thigh, under the edge of my dress.
Or maybe I'm underestimating him.
"I want you," he growls into my ear.
I moan in pleasure, closing my eyes. I want him, too. With a desperation that unnerves me.
"What do you want?" He whispers, the warmth of his breath tickling the hair of my neck.
I smile, biting my lip. "I'm open to suggestions," I say.
He leans back, regarding me with a grin. "It's going to take every ounce of my willpower not to bend you over the first surface I see and take you right there," he says, his fingers tracing the outline of my increasingly damp panties.
My heart thumps in my chest, and I blink, looking up at him through my lashes. "But what if that's exactly what I want?" I say.
"Fuck, Mia," he groans, pulling me against him. He chuckles. "Why do I get the idea you wouldn't mind me taking you right here?"
I laugh. "Depends. How soundproof is that partition?"
His eyes flash with something primal, and for a moment I think he's going to take me right there, something I wouldn't terribly against at the moment, but the car slows to a stop. "Home, sir," a voice says over a speaker near my head.
I'm startled back to reality. Get a grip, Mia.
"Saved by the bell," I say with a laugh as he lets his head fall back on the headrest in frustration. I reach for the door handle, but Lucian grips my wrist.
"Hold on," he says. "We wait for Julian to get out first. It's not safe."
I'm so low on the hierarchy of my own family that I've never had to take such precautions. "Why?" I ask, trying to look innocently confused. He can't know that I understand exactly who he is.
Lucian glances out the tinted window, not answering me. He listens for a moment, then pulls me off his lap. The door opens, and he steps out, then turns, reaching for my hand.
He holds my hand through the lobby, practically dragging me behind him. I can only walk so fast in heels, plus, I want to get a good look around to see what I'm dealing with. His lobby has marble floors, oversized chairs I'm sure no one ever sits in, and four guards. Four. Just in the lobby.
"So help me god woman, I will throw you over my shoulder," he teases as he glances back at me.
"Promises, promises," I giggle as we slip into an open elevator.
As soon as the doors shut, he corners me against the wall, one hand on my waist and the other on my breast. "If I wasn't such a gentleman," he growls, licking the vulnerable skin of my throat. I can almost feel my pulse skyrocketing against his tongue.
I level his gaze with my own. "You don't have to pretend to be a gentleman anymore," I say.
The doors to the elevator opens, and he steps out first, checking the small lobby between where we stand and the front door. No guards were at his door.
"Everything okay?" I ask, and he nods, not offering an explanation as he leads me to his front door.
My heart nearly skips as the key in the door turns, and he holds it open for me to walk in first.
I've done it. I'm in.
It was so easy.
I want to jump up and down in excitement, but instead, I pause beside the chirping alarm system, pretending to look around the apartment.
He punches in a quick code as I watch. He's not even trying to conceal it from me. I almost want to smack him for his carelessness, but at the same time, his trust in me...
No, I will not think of that.
He turns to me, loosening the top button of his shirt. "You want a drink?"
"Sure," I lie. I need my wits about me, and I already had two cocktails at the bar during the fundraiser, but for some reason, now that I'm in his apartment, my palms are sweaty, and my stomach keeps fluttering with nerves.
"Let me guess, you're a vodka girl?" He asks.
I grin, shaking my head.
"Whiskey?" He asks, opening a glass front cupboard to grab a glass.
I shake my head again, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Tequila?" He raises his eyebrows in question.
I laugh. "Gin," I say. "If you have it."
"Gin?" He repeats. "Huh. I'd have never guessed that one," he says. He opens another cupboard and takes out a bottle of gin, looking around. "I don't think we have any tonic."
"That's okay," I say, stepping beside him to scan the cupboard. "You have lemon and vermouth, so we'll be fine."
"Martinis? You classy broad," he teases, shrugging out of his suit jacket.
"You want one?" I ask, reaching for the cocktail shaker.
He regards me for a moment, as if trying to determine if I'm serious or not. "Who are you?" He asks.
Caught off guard, I nearly choke on a quick gasp. "Wh-what do you mean?" I ask, tingles of nervous energy coursing through my veins.
Oh my god, has he found me out so quickly?
"Just that you show up out of nowhere, you seduce me, and then you offer to make me a martini? I feel like you might not be real," he says, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
He grins, looking even more devilish than before, and I realize that he's joking.
My mouth is dry as I try to swallow and regain my composure.
"Oh," I say, trying to feign a laugh. "Well, I guess you're just extremely lucky."
"I must have been a saint in a past life," he says, moving my hair to place a kiss on the back of my neck.
"Not this one?" I ask softly, pouring a tiny bit of vermouth into a pair of martini glasses. I pray that he thinks my hands are shaking because he's touching me, not from the adrenaline surge still flowing through my body.
And, granted, it's a little of both.
"No, not this one," he says quietly against my skin.
His hands explore my hips and breasts as I try to remember how to pour gin from a bottle — my basic motor skills are completely gone. If he asks me my name right now, I don't think I'd be able to respond.
It's like his hands are magic — and his mouth? Beyond explanation.
"Do you have a knife?" I ask, trying to hold my voice steady.
He nips at the bare skin of my shoulder. "Depends what you need a knife for, beautiful," he says.
I can't help myself f
rom laughing.
"Just the lemon twist, I promise. Although, something tells me you could take care of yourself against me and a paring knife," I say, only half-joking.
He reaches, pulling open a drawer. He points to the knives, letting me choose.
I take a knife with a small, sharp blade, then hold the lemon, carefully and precisely slicing through the skin of it.
"I've never been so turned on by a lemon slice before," he says, grinding his hard-on into my back.
I turn, handing him a martini.
I'm in the apartment, that's all I had to do. Now, I just have to sneak off and prowl around.
His smoldering stare keeps me in place, though. Holding me there against my will.
I sip my drink slowly, unable to look away from him.
"Take off your dress," he says.
I blink. "Wh-what?"
He reaches for me, and I stay perfectly still. He pulls the zipper of my dress down, just enough that I'd be able to reach it. "Take it off," he says.
What is happening to me? I'm under his spell, and I want to obey.
He leans against the kitchen island, watching as he sips his drink.
I set down my drink and reach behind me, pulling the zipper the rest of the way. The slinky fabric slides over my shoulders, and his gaze makes goosebumps rise over my skin. I'm not wearing a bra, and as the dress slides over my breasts, I'm suddenly self-conscious. I hold an arm over my chest as I push the fabric over my hips to fall to the floor.
"No," he says.
"No?" I question, forgetting how other words work.
He reaches for me, but his touch is soft as he takes my wrist, pulling my arm away from covering myself.
Then, he leans back, regarding my almost naked body.
"Even better than I imagined," he says, sipping his drink again, as though he's at some art gallery admiring the work.
"You going to return the favor?" I say, forcing confidence into my tone.
"You could say that," he says with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
He sets his drink down, then takes a step forward and lifts me back onto the counter. The cool countertop makes me shiver involuntarily, but his hands are warm as they begin to knead my breasts, pinching and rolling my nipple between his fingers.
He claims my mouth with his. If his first kiss was to test our chemistry, this kiss is all about claiming his territory. His tongue pushes past my lips as he explores me,
I wrap my arms around him, holding on for dear life.
His hands
"I have to taste you," he says. "I have to have you."
I moan in pleasure, and watch as he lifts my thighs to put them over his shoulders. The fabric of his suit is soft against my skin, and I almost begin to worry that I'll make a mess of his expensive clothing.
He turns his head to the side and nips at the soft skin behind the back of my knee. My senses alight — who knew? A jolt of electricity straight to my core makes me gasp in surprise.
I say almost, because he takes me in his mouth, his tongue flat and wide as he begins to lick my center. The feeling consumes me so completely that I'm unable to form coherent thoughts.
My body is so amped up that I'm on the verge of orgasm within moments. I lean back, the bottles of alcohol sliding out of my way with musical clinking tones. I revel in the delicious mixture of the cool countertop on my back and his warm mouth, circling me, exploring me. He opens his eyes, and his stare is so intense. I can't look away.
He pushes a finger inside of me, and the pressure is incredible. Just the right amount to make his mouth on my clit feel even more intense.
My climax hits me with force, and I close my hands, fisting my hands in his suit and hair. I'm vaguely aware of calling his name, begging, pleading him to never stop.
I come back down to earth, gasping for air.
I wasn't expecting any of that.
He takes me in his arms, cradled against his chest, and carries me through the great room into a bedroom.
I don't have the wherewithal to even look around, much less investigate where he may keep information.
I'm exhausted suddenly, but I can't lose my wits.
"I'm just going to go get cleaned up," I say as he sets me on my own two feet beside a massive bed. I glance around the room and see the bathroom.
"Alright," he says, reaching to unbutton his shirt.
"Wait, no," I say, pointing at him. "Don't do that until I can watch."
He grins. "If you insist, beautiful," he says.
I walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, taking a deep breath.
Fuck, I am slipping.
I clean myself up and wash my hands, patting the cool water against my cheeks.
"Get it together," I say firmly to my reflection in the mirror.
"Everything okay in there?" He asks.
"Oh, yeah," I say, clearing my throat. Whoops, I spoke a little too loudly.
I look at my reflection, straightening my ponytail.
I can't get distracted, no matter how much I want to.
I can't just sleep with him and forget my mission.
I take a deep breath and grab a bathrobe hanging on the wall near the door. My hands are shaking, and I take a moment to sit on the edge of the bathtub once I tie the robe shut.
What am I doing?
I've strayed too far from the plan — this was only meant to be a way to get into his apartment. Liking him, enjoying his company... that was never part of the equation.
Maybe my cousins were right when they said this would never work.
No, I can't let them be right.
I can't let my family be in danger.
I set my head in my hands, raking my fingers through my hair. What am I going to do?
A knock comes on the door.
"Hey, beautiful? You doing okay in there?" Lucian asks.
I clear my throat. "Yeah, everything's fine," I say, embarrassment reddening my cheeks.
The door opens, and I squeak in surprise, standing up quickly.
"What if I was... you know, busy?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
He laughs. "But you weren't," he says, his eyebrows raising. "Now, come on. Let's watch a dumb movie and relax for awhile," he says.
I stare up at him in confusion. "A movie?" I ask.
"Yeah, might take the pressure off to just... relax," he says.
Ah, so he thinks I'm nervous about having sex with him.
He's not completely wrong, of course.
And a movie buys me some time to think...
"Okay, but I'm picking it," I say, unable to help the smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth.
Chapter 4
Luca
She's snoring ten minutes into the movie.
We lie on the bed, her head on my chest. She chose some silly 90s movie I hadn't heard of, and then promptly closed her eyes.
I don't hate it.
When she disappeared earlier, I had the sneaking suspicion she was trying to psych herself up for something, and I sincerely did not want to fuck a woman who had to give themselves a pep talk first.
I chalked it up to nerves.
She is so fucking sexy, and I did not want to mess it up just because of impatience.
I could still taste her on my tongue — sweet, unlike the rest of her.
She was a little spitfire, and I found myself a little too entranced with her already.
People did not surprise me very often, but she had surprised me every five minutes.
She sighs in her sleep, and I look down at her, brushing hair from her face.
She's gorgeous, but more than that, she just... feels right in my arms.
Maybe I'll never let her go. Something primal flares inside of me. Caveman words take over my thoughts: Mine. She's mine.
I sigh, trying to clear the idea from my head.
I'm not a good man. I'm a man who hides in the shadows, who takes care of business.
I can hear m
y brother's voice in my head. We were born into a legacy. It isn't our choice what we do.
I can't get ethical now, could I?
And besides, why worry about it when I have a stunning woman in my bed?
I carefully extract myself from under her and stand, taking off my clothes as quietly as I can. I usually sleep naked, but I leave my boxer briefs on so she doesn't wake up to a naked stranger beside her.
I smile to myself, thinking of her waking up in my bed. Why does that sound like perfection? I groan, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
I see her phone on the counter and pick it up, meaning to take it into the bedroom to put on her side of the bed for when she wakes up.
The screen lights up, and I see she has 14 missed calls and 37 text messages from a man named Georgie.
The name sparks something familiar in my head, but I can't put my finger on it.
I try to shake off the discomforting thought of some other man calling her so much. Maybe it was a brother? A roommate? Maybe Georgie was a woman?
I set her phone down. I'll ask her about it in the morning. I don't play games, but I'm also not a complete neanderthal. As much as locking her away and never letting her leave my bed ever again does sound appealing, I'd never force her to make that choice.
That realization doesn't stop the fantasy of me killing any man who wants to harm her or fuck her, though.
But I see nothing wrong with that. I grin, taking a sip of the water.
She rolls over, the robe opening and showing one of her full breasts.
I'm instantly hard again.
The thought of her tight, wet pussy makes my cock twitch.
I reach for her and pull the robe closed over her chest, then take part of the blanket and wrap it over her, so she won't be cold.
I climb into my side of the bed and shut off the light, then fall asleep listening to the soft sounds of her next to me.
The sun comes streaming in the window, and I reach to grab a pillow to pull over my head. The only time I ever consider curtains comes after a night of drinking.
I turn onto my side, and I'm struck by the smell of her shampoo. It's floral and musky at the same time. I smile to myself, reaching for her to pull her close, but my arms hit nothing.