Hittin It: A Hitman Romance (Marked for Love Book 2)

by Amie Stuart

  He mentally shook himself and replaced the journal in its crate before quietly closing the van’s side door.

  Inside the cabin, Sabrina was still curled up in bed, a fist tucked under her chin, sweaty curls stuck to her face.

  He stared down at her, wondering how he could know a perfect stranger as well as he felt he knew her. How could he know her better than he’d known Tilly who he’d lived with for nearly two years or any of the other women he’d dated? The thought of someone hurting Sabrina twisted his guts inside out.

  Was that even possible? Really and truly possible? Or had he lost his mind?

  Then again his relationship with Tilly had been based on lies. Maybe that was why his brother John didn’t lie and rarely dated. Lying made things so difficult, having to keep them straight, having to decide how much to lie about, if it was necessary to lie, having to remember who you told which lie to. They all caught up with you in the end.

  One way or the other.

  No wonder lying made him so edgy and cranky. He didn’t particularly like lying, but it came with his job. With Sabrina, though, there had been no lies, no pretense, not after their initial meeting. There hadn’t been a chance. In a way, they were kindred souls—or was Will reaching? Was he seeing things that weren’t there as a way to explain their earlier kiss?

  The sun would be up soon. With that thought in mind, Will forced himself to move, to step away from the bed before Sabrina woke up and caught him staring. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her, about that kiss, as he headed for the freezer. It was barely six in the morning, but he was starving. He felt edgy, and needed to stay busy. He pulled out some frozen, pre-made chicken fried steak patties and stuck them in the oven, then whipped up the gravy mix that had come with it, and scrambled some eggs all while his mind focused on Sabrina and the kiss they’d shared last night. He should have kissed her again. Ignored his conscience—he wanted to kiss her again. The irony of a hitman being gunshy about intimacy wasn’t lost on him. Women made him nervous. Sabrina especially so. The thought of leaving her disappointed and angry terrified him.

  While she slept and he did his best to imitate cooking, night slowly bled into day. He debated whether to wake Sabrina or not, then decided to leave her be. The last few days had been hard on her.

  He was going soft, melting like a stick of butter left in a hot summer kitchen too long. He knew it, he could feel it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, to stop it, or even to stop her from getting to him.

  He busied himself as long as he could, then ate with only a tattered copy of Deer Hunter magazine for company.

  Finally, Scamp got up, barking a sharp little “See you later,” at the open door before stepping outside and disappearing into the morning.

  Will washed the dishes and left Sabrina’s plate on the stove. He finally gave into the urge to check on her and wandered near the bed again. Boxer shorts hugged the lush curves of her ass, and her white T-shirt, pulled tight from her restless sleep, was bunched up to reveal the swell of her belly and clung to her full breasts. She was braless, and through the thin material, Will couldn’t stop staring at the mouthwatering shadow of her aureolae, the seductive shadow of soft nipples. His breath hitched as he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I came awake slowly, fighting the weighed-down feeling caused by a bad night’s sleep. I was hot and sweaty, my head hurt and bad dreams lingered at the corners of my consciousness like that last slice of cake you gobble then wish you hadn’t. For reasons I couldn’t explain, mostly because I didn’t understand them, I wanted to cry.

  Then I looked up and found Will staring at me with all the lust and longing of a fat kid who’d just found his next sugar rush. For a second I thought I was dreaming. I closed my eyes until the sound of a heavy sigh reached my ears, and then snuck another look from between my lashes.

  To be honest, there was something kind of sweet about it, and I was afraid to move. Afraid I’d break whatever spell he was caught up in. At the same time, I wanted to reach up, take him by the hand, and pull him down next to me. I wanted to shimmy out of the sweaty tangle of my clothes, use him, and let him use me. It had been way too long since I’d used sex as something more than a commodity.

  Blood thickened in my veins, pooling between my thighs and leaving me tender and achy. My nipples hardened against the damp confines of my T-shirt.

  Groaning, Will turned away. It had to be the nipples. He was so lost in thought, he hadn’t realized I was awake. He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling heavily as he headed toward the cabin’s front door. He stepped outside, leaving a trail of sunshine to spill across the floor and tempt me.

  I tried to think about the consequences of sleeping with Will. But all reason was blotted out by the memory of that naked, hungry expression on his face. A hunger I understood and more importantly, felt. It wasn’t just sexual frustration but loneliness.

  As silently as possible, I sat up, my nose catching the distinct odor of pepper and frozen food that had been heated up. I must have slept the morning away. No surprise since I’d spent most of the previous night staring at the ceiling and thinking about the kiss Will and I had shared, and how he’d run away like a fourteen-year-old unsure of what to do with his first real boner.

  I felt certain that, when it came to his work, Will was as cold-blooded and efficient as my initial impression of him. I felt equally certain that, when it came to the fairer sex, Will Collier didn’t know jack shit.

  I threw back the covers and slid from the bed, crossing the floor as silently as possible. Outside, Will sat still as a statue on the top step. The morning sun picked up the deep red glints in his short, normally immaculate hair. He wore sweat pants, so he’d showered, but hadn’t taken the time to shave. Some perverse part of me liked the fact that I’d managed to shake loose the cold-blooded, stuff-shirt and get a peek at what was underneath.

  Smiling at the thought, I knelt behind him and pulled his plain, gray T-shirt free of his waistband. He stiffened the tiniest bit but didn’t protest as I lifted it over his head. I tossed it behind me, letting it land somewhere just inside the cabin.

  Will’s back was hard and smooth to the touch, all angles and plains and muscles that quivered under my fingertips. I pulled off my own T-shirt and pressed myself against him. The feel of skin on skin increased the ache that invaded me, pushed me onward, encouraged me to ignore the possibility of getting caught by someone, anyone, out here in the middle of nowhere. My nipples puckered against the skin of his back and a soft, damp breeze cooled me.

  Will shivered, but he still hadn’t moved. He didn’t make a sound—of encouragement or dismissal. I let my hands explore every bare inch of him, the smooth almost hairless expanse of his chest, the stomach that quivered under my fingers, the happy trail that started just below his belly button, the nipples that stiffened under my fingertips. Finally, he grunted, moaned, a whoosh escaping his lungs before he could stop it. He turned around, that same hungry, covetous look still on his face, and leaned in, pressing his lips to mine.

  I’d expected hard, demanding, and greedy. Instead, what I got was soft, but still hungry in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. I pushed the thought out of my head and kissed him back, stroking his tongue with mine, drunk on my seduction, on the feel of the morning air on my skin, drunk on him and our kiss that threatened to swallow me whole.

  Cocooned in our warm steamy bubble, we finally came up for air. “You sure?” Will studied me, his expression hopeful and hungry.

  I gently caressed the side of his face. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

  “You said you hated me.” His hand glided up my waist, kneading flesh.

  “I still hate you,” I said with a tiny smile. Just not in the same way. Now, I hated how he made me feel. I pushed away and shimmied out of my panties, sure he wouldn’t turn down what I was offering as I held my hand out to him. “Now come on. Let’s go inside.”


  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Will let Sabrina lead him inside, seduced by the sight of the generous globes of her ass. She made him think of Eve in the garden as she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were hot and dark, her lips swollen from their kiss. The smell of sex filled his nostrils, intoxicating him until he was almost sick with need. He stood by the bed, letting Sabrina undress him; let her kiss him and touch him.

  She boldly wrapped her fingers around his cock and he watched, detached and fascinated, as it swelled, engorged with blood, aching from her attention. His balls followed suit, flexing and tightening against his body, preparing to release the semen gathered there. He almost forgot to breathe, then moaned and looked away, unable to watch her hand slide up and down his cock anymore. He was afraid he’d come too early and ruin everything. He moaned again and pushed her hand away, embarrassed at his lack of control or finesse, but it had been a while.

  He wanted to touch her, but like a starving man presented with a feast, didn’t know where to start. His mouth dried out, and he struggled to swallow as Sabrina crawled onto the rumpled sheets. Her backside was deliciously round and full, a sight to behold naked, almost as nice as the front, which she presented to him, rolling over and reclining on the pillow, legs spread.

  Still, he couldn’t move. He watched her touch herself, her fingers dipping between her thighs. The wet sound of her playing with her pussy teased him, begging him to come closer and play too. The fingers of her other hand teased her nipple and it hardened, puckered, dark and juicy like a ripe piece of fruit.

  He felt like he was suffocating, smothering in the banquet she’d laid out for him. His cock urged him forward, begging for the release he’d find between Sabrina’s thighs while the rest of him screamed something about crossing a very dangerous line. He knew better than to climb in that bed, but sight of Sabrina with her eyes closed, her lower lip caught between her teeth, moaning, smiling, waiting was too much. Now her head was arching back, her hips jutting upward as she continued to stroke herself. He backed away, only to stop when she looked up at him with those liquid eyes and said his name.

  “Come on,” she coaxed, a languid smile on her face. She’d stopped playing with herself and held a wet finger out to him.

  Finally, he moved, diving for the bed, wrapping his hand around her wrist, plunging her finger into his mouth. He licked her warm, salty juices while his cock screamed at him to fuck her.

  His cock was a pig, with no manners.

  He was drowning in curves and an abundance of warm flesh as he found a nipple pressed against his lips. He opened his mouth and drew it in. She wriggled underneath him, and her hands were on his cock again, guiding him inside her soft, slick warmth. Then she was moving under him, and he was pumping into her. He kept his eyes closed, his face buried between the lush mounds of her breasts as his cock exploded a few minutes later. He wanted to shout his frustration.

  He didn’t want it to be over, didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to see the look in Sabrina’s eyes. The angry, disappointed, hateful one.

  Instead, she laughed, soft and hoarse, and trailed her fingernails up his sweaty back. “Roll over.”

  Will kept his eyes closed, his fists clutching the sheets as they rolled over and she covered his body with hers. Sabrina’s hips worked furiously, pushing her toward her own release. She pressed her lips to his ear, nipping and licking and purring while she rode him. Her breath was warm on his skin, teasing him—along with her hips—until he was hard again. Finally, she squealed, a sharp sweet sound, as her pussy pulsated around him.

  Will sucked in great gulps of air and stared absently at the water-stained ceiling while he played with her hair, twisting curls around his fingers. She continued to ride him, slower now, until he couldn’t breathe, until he grabbed her hips, thrusting and grinding against her until they climaxed together this time. Warmth and sexual release had him drifting off, his eyes refusing to stay open any longer.

  He woke a while later to find a naked Sabrina exiting the bathroom. She curled up against him spoon-fashion. Unable to resist, he caressed her back, letting his finger trace the dip of her waist and the rise of her hips. He cupped the half-moon of her ass, his cock stirring as her hips arched, curling into his hand, pressing against him. He wanted her with a fierceness that startled him, but he didn’t look too closely at it. Not now. He was busy.

  Instead, he slid his cock inside her, sighing as his belly clenched. He wrapped his arms around her and pumped into her pussy, his face buried in her hair. The thought of waking up like this every day left him dizzy. Or maybe it was just lack of blood to his head, but the sweet, slick feel of Sabrina milking his cock.

  He groaned, “You feel so good.”

  “So do you,” she gasped, a deep throaty sound that made his balls ache, and undulated against him, meeting his cock stroke for stroke. She shifted against him, a little harder, a little faster. The slap of skin against skin reached his ears, and her nails dug into his ass, urging him on. It felt good, that little edge of pain, sharp and bittersweet mixed with his pleasure. She moaned again, urging him to hurry.

  “I don’t wanna hurry; I don’t wanna stop, Bree.”

  Her hot, sweet pussy drew him on, teasing him, tormenting him until her head rolled back and his lips were on her cheek. She groaned loudly, smiling as her cunt spasmed around him, repeatedly, dragging him along for the ride. Will came with a loud, harsh shout, his face buried in her neck. He held on tight until the aftershocks faded away, until her pussy stopped pulsating around him. Until he thought he could act like a semi-coherent man again.

  He brushed the hair from her sweaty cheek and kissed her temple.

  “What a way to waste a day.” Her lips curved into a smile.

  Will laughed, a part of him feeling silly and foolish for being unable to take his eyes off her and for not knowing how to respond.

  “Where’d you go?” Sabrina asked, curling up against him. She rested her head on his chest.

  “I’m here.” He smiled again, unable to help himself.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  His heart immediately seized up in his chest. Was she going to ask the dreaded how did he feel about her...or where did they go from here? “What?”

  “Why—” She propped herself up on her elbows so she could see him. Curls hid most of her face, but not her eyes, which were a deep green, “—Why do you...” she hesitated, licked her lips. Finally, she met his gaze head-on, “—kill people? Really.”

  This was the second time she’d asked him about his work, and her question was the reason he always lied. He felt as if someone had just sucked the life right out of him. He briefly squeezed his eyes shut and forced his shoulders to relax. There was no easy answer, none that would probably ever satisfy her. And there was no way this conversation would end well. “It’s my job, sweetheart.”

  Her eyebrows drew together slightly, and she struggled to sit up. “It’s not just a job. You...take human lives! Those people, they matter to someone. They have lovers and families...children!”

  Air finally filled Will’s lungs, and he exhaled heavily as realization dawned. This wasn’t about him—not really. This was about her mother and Walt. He nodded to himself in understanding. “Can I ask you something?”

  “I suppose,” she said softly, her eyes wary.

  “How did your mom die?” He sat up while he waited for her to answer. Sweat trickled down his back and made the sheets stick to his legs.

  She hesitated for a few seconds, and then said, “My step-father shot her.”

  Even though he’d suspected as much, his chest still constricted slightly when she said it. He sighed and waited to see if she’d continue.

  “I was at work. They, uh, they were fighting when I left...”

  “About the baby?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He fisted the sheets, a part of him hoping she’d miss his slip, but he knew it was hopeless.

  Sabrina lur
ched across the bed, settling on her haunches. All the blood seemed to have drained from her face. “You read my journal?” The soft tone of her voice scared him more than if she had yelled. “How dare you? How dare you!”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat, scrambling for the right words. “I’m sorry,” was the best he could do. He sat up and scrubbed at his head.

  “Fuck...Will, how could you read my journal?” She scowled at him. Her eyes widened and her brows slowly rose as she added, “Journals?”

  He nodded.

  “How many? How much do you know?”

  Now was not the time to lie. “Three or four. I know about...Ronnie. Well, not everything, because you didn’t finish.”

  “I’m so sorry to deprive you!” She climbed from the bed and snatched up her clothes, clutching them to her chest. “I’m—”

  “Ask me anything!” He cut her off, unwilling to hear her say how angry she was, how much she hated him or that she was leaving him.

  Her shoulders slumped, and the clothes slipped from her fingers to land on the edge of the bed. She daintily slid on her panties before asking the first question, “What’s the point? Why should I bother? You’ll just lie, or be vague.”

  “I figure it’s only fair. Since I know so much about you.”

  “You don’t know shit about me.” She pawed at the covers until she came up with something to hold her wild hair back with.

  “Why don’t you settle down somewhere, get off the road? Don’t you want a normal life?” He stood and yanked on his sweats.

  “Ha! Normal!? Coming from you that’s—” She shook her head, then perched on the end of the bed and exhaled a noisy breath. “You get paid to kill people for a living. What’s normal about that? What’s normal about your life, Will?”

  She had him there.

  His face burned as humiliation and resignation settled deep in his gut. “Nothing. But it is what it is and I am what I am, Bree. And lying is a part of the job.” His shoulders slumped with the weight of it. “But you know what? I’m tired, and that’s no lie. I’m tired of the traveling, the lying, the secrecy, the multiple identities, the disposable phones. Most of all, I’m tired of trying to keep it all straight, and hand to God, Bree, you’re the only woman I never...almost never lied to.”