Lance: A Hitman Romance (Santa Espera #2)

by Harley Fox

  I shake my head and look down to see the loofah hidden beneath all the foam coating my hands. I quickly run it over my body and then hold it up to the spray, rinsing it off. After I hang it back on the tap I start turning, washing the soap off my body.

  Of course, that connection did nothing to quell my annoyance with him. Us having slept together once before is no excuse. A grown man who’s cocky, arrogant, and who actively resists talking … basically a therapist’s nightmare. I know that Lance is hiding something. Something he doesn’t want me to see. I mean, the very fact that he insisted on being seen in the first place shows that at least part of him wants to talk.

  The soap’s all rinsed off but I don’t feel like leaving the shower just yet. Turning the heat up a little more, I lower my face to the hot spray and let my mind wander some more.

  Lance … I wrap my hands around myself, and as thoughts of Lance float through my mind I’m surprised to find that my body feels good. It feels good to be touched. He’s here in the shower with me, and I see Lance’s strong arms, his broad shoulders, his glowing blue eyes. He speaks and the deep, resonant sound of his voice sends a shiver down my spine. I’m looking up at him and he’s looking down at me. Looking into me.

  His strong hands find my arms and I watch as he leans down, pressing his lips into mine. Water cascades over the both of us and I can feel him, smell him. His manly musk fills my senses.

  One of his hands finds my breast and he squeezes, sending exquisite pleasure down throughout me. My nipples become hard and sensitive and it feels so good. We continue kissing and I feel his hand slide up and down, over my bare stomach, caressing my thighs. Down below I ache, and his hands finds my curls, sliding in farther, down until he’s touching the tenderest part of me.

  I open my mouth to gasp and warm water tickles my lips. Lance and I continue kissing as his hand rubs over my pussy and clit, spreading my wetness, causing my clit to burn brightly with every stroke.

  And the more he touches me, the more I realize that he’s hard. My heartbeat picks up and I feel nervous and scared. He wants me, and inside I want him too. I wrap my fingers around it and he feels so good and so warm and I lurch as a wave of pleasure washes over me.

  We keep kissing, our hands holding one another. I slowly stroke him as he dips inside of me and I hear Lance moan, a low, deep rumble of a sound. His fingers stroke all of me and I gasp against his lips. Our bodies press together. He feels so good. The warm water rushes over us and he moans again, the sound just for me. Only for me.

  As Lance’s fingers move faster I begin to rise up, hitching in breaths, my toes curling and my muscles clenching together. Inside my mind I see color and he gasps too, rising with me. His fingers move faster and I let out a soft cry, warm water tickling my lips again. Faster, and faster still, and when I reach my peak I cry out and come against him, and then I hear him too, unleashing a deep sound as we explode together.

  Bright color fills me up. My heart is beating fast, and when I finally come down I open my eyes, the water cascading down over me. Taking my hand out from between my legs, I see a glistening web connect my fingers before I stick them under the spray to wash them off.

  My heart is still racing. I swallow, trying to clear my head.

  What did I just do? I masturbated to the thought of him!

  Shaking my head, I rub my hands together to clean them off faster. I’ve never done that before to anybody I know, but perhaps that’s only because I’ve never felt the desire to. There’s something different about Lance. Something is happening to me. We hardly know each other, but already I feel like there’s something between us.

  Are you serious? Is this really a good idea, having these kinds of thoughts?

  Part of me deflates. That’s right. I shouldn’t be thinking this way. But I can’t get Lance out of my head. Is it that I’m attracted to him? Because that would severely compromise our future sessions together. And besides, what exactly am I attracted to? Certainly not his attitude.

  And what about the type of work that he does? I haven’t even touched on that part of his life.

  Do I really want someone like that in my life? If I kept him on I would be compromising the safety of my life, not to mention the safety of those around me. And for what? A little thrill? A little excitement? And what if things become more serious between us? Talk about a conflict of interest.

  But if I decided I didn’t want to see him again, I’ll have to refer him to somebody else. And if I did that, then where will I be? I’ll be right back where I started. Right back to the life that I live every single day.

  I shake my head. I can’t make this decision right now. I don’t have sufficient enough data, for one thing. We have another session in a couple of days, and hopefully I’ll be able to make a decision by then.

  My shower’s done. I lean down and turn the water off, then pull back the curtain and step out, drying myself off with the towel. Wrapping it around my chest, I open the bathroom door and turn off the light before padding into my bedroom, where I slip on some pajama pants and a t-shirt. I hear my cell phone give a little jingle, letting me know I just got a text message. Slinging my towel over my open bedroom door, I walk into the living room and fish it out of my purse only to realize that it’s a quarter to seven. The message is from Amanda, telling me she’ll be over soon, and that she’s in the mood for Chinese and to go ahead and order some. I write back, telling her that I will, and walk into the kitchen, pulling the Chinese take-out menu off the fridge door and giving them a call.

  Five minutes later, after I’ve ordered the food for delivery, I pull a wine glass out of the dish rack and pop the cork on a new bottle of red. Pouring myself a glass, I take it into the living room and plop down on the couch, sipping it as I wait for Amanda to arrive.

  It’s not long before the door buzzer goes off, announcing Amanda’s arrival. I let her into the building and unlock my door, and a minute later she comes in, dropping off her bag before giving me a hug.

  “Katie, hi,” Amanda says, slipping off her shoes. “Did you order the food? I’m starving.”

  “Yeah, just ten minutes ago,” I say. “Want something to drink? I have some juice in the fridge.”

  “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

  I go to get Amanda a glass of cranberry-pomegranate juice and come back to find her sitting on the couch. I hand her the drink and join her, picking up my wine and clinking our glasses together before we each take a sip.

  “Oh my God, this day has been a nightmare,” Amanda moans. “I can’t wait until Tyler’s not nursing anymore. I would give anything just for a sip of that wine.”

  “Mm, trust me, you’ll appreciate it that much more after waiting,” I say. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Absence also makes me have dreams where I’m swimming in a lake full of booze, so there’s that too.”

  I chuckle as Amanda takes another sip of her drink.

  “Doug’s been talking about cleaning out the office a bit,” she goes on. “He wants to know when you’re going to come by and take those filing boxes you have?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry,” I say. “Do you really want them gone? I just don’t know where I’d fit them in here.”

  “Well, I took a look through them and you’ve got some pretty important things in there. Like your passport, for one.”

  “I know. But it’s just stuff I’m not using right now. But if you really want it out of there I can pick it up next week.”

  “Thank you,” she says. “I know Doug would really appreciate it.”

  We chat for a bit and soon enough the buzzer announces the arrival of our dinner. I buzz them up and we get some cash out of our wallets. As Amanda gets some plates and cutlery ready, I pay the delivery boy, and then bring the food over to the coffee table, ripping open the bag full of hot, greasy goodness.

  “What did you get?” she asks as I begin taking out containers.

  “Sweet and sour pork, veggie chow mein, eg
g rolls, and chicken balls.”

  “I wonder how much of this is actually stuff the Chinese would eat.” Amanda passes me a plate and we peel off the Styrofoam lids, steam and aroma billowing up to greet us.

  “Not much,” I say as we begin piling our plates with food. “I remember reading that a lot of what we consider ‘Chinese food’ is actually just a bastardization of the real thing. In fact, most traditional Chinese foods only use a combination of several key ingredients that-”

  “Katie, Katie,” Amanda says, cutting me off. “I didn’t want an analysis of our dinner, okay? I was just making conversation.”

  I close my mouth and we finish filling our plates, then sit down on the couch with forks in hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Amanda says before she starts eating. “It’s just that sometimes you … over-analyze everything. Not everything has to be exactly this way or that.”

  “I know,” I say to her. “I just remembered reading about it and thought you wanted to know.”

  “Katie,” Amanda shakes her head, “you need to learn how to switch off that brain of yours sometimes. I mean, it’s great to have a sister that’s as smart as you are, but … you need to go on instinct too sometimes. You know what I mean?”

  I nod. I do know what she means. Ironically, this is actually advice that I’ve given many of my clients: to ignore the logical part of their brain and just go by feel instead. They’re always surprised how well it works.

  “I mean, when’s the last time you took a break from your work, huh?” Amanda asks, interrupting my thoughts. “When did you ever take a moment to do what you really wanted to do?”

  A flash of Lance and me outside the restaurant comes through my mind, but I shrug. “I don’t know. During Christmas?”

  “That doesn’t count, Katie. Come on.”

  “Amanda, where is this coming from?” I ask, and Amanda looks at me.

  “Katie, I’m worried about you. You work a lot, almost every day. I’m worried that you’re not getting enough balance in your life. You need to do things aside from just listening to other people talk about their problems.”

  “I do do other things,” I protest. “I come and see you and Doug and Tyler. And you come here every week.”

  “Mm hmm. Anything else?”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

  “See?” Amanda says. “You need to do something crazy. Okay? Shake up your life.”

  The image of Lance flickers through my brain again but I shake it away.

  “I guess so,” I say to her. “You’re probably right.”

  My sister nods. “I know I’m right,” she says. “You just need some change in your life, and it needs to be something game-changing.”

  Once again Lance floats through my brain, and it’s harder to get rid of now. I look down at my plate, toying with a forkful of chow mein. Amanda chews a mouthful of food before swallowing.

  “What?” she says, and I look up at her.

  “Well … there’s something I haven’t told you.” I see my sister perk up.

  “Oh yeah?” she says. “What is it?”

  I carefully choose the words. “I have a new client,” I say to her. But Amanda visibly deflates.

  “Oh,” she says. “I thought it was going to be something non-work related.”

  “Well, this one’s a little different. His name is Lance … I think he’s a hitman … and last week I slept with him.”

  The fork actually falls out of Amanda’s hand, landing with a clatter on the plate, as she stares at me with an open mouth.

  “What?”

  “Uh … yeah,” I say.

  “Katie!” Amanda is goggling now. “This is … that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard you do. Are you telling the truth?”

  I nod. “But, I didn’t know who he was, or even his name, when we slept together. That was actually, um, that was a spur of the moment thing. It happened on Wednesday, right after you guys left the restaurant.”

  “You slept with somebody after we had dinner?” I nod. “What … how did you meet him?”

  “He came out and started talking to me, and then … one thing lead to the other.”

  “Wait … he wasn’t that guy at the bar who kept looking at you, was he?” I give a bashful nod. “Jesus! Did he come over here? Or did you go to his place?” I shake my head.

  “No … we actually, um, we had sex just outside the restaurant. Right next to the building.”

  Amanda’s jaw drops right open and I can’t help but laugh. I’m full of all this nervous energy. I’ve been beating myself up for these feelings, but saying them out loud actually makes them seem okay.

  “Katie, this is insane!” my sister says. “Okay, and back to the other part of this little bombshell you just dropped. Did you say he’s a hitman?”

  “Yeah, I think so. He implied as much when he came in for a session. He never actually said it out loud.”

  “Did he come to the session because you two slept together?”

  “No,” I say, my eyebrows raising. “That’s the crazy thing. We didn’t even tell each other our names. He said he just got my name from a friend.”

  “Wow … okay.” Amanda takes a moment to compose herself. “So are you seeing him again?”

  I nod. “He made another appointment for Wednesday, but … I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I might refer him to somebody else.”

  “What, why?” Amanda looks incredulous.

  I blink at her. “Because, Amanda, he’s dangerous. And besides, I didn’t like his attitude. I told you how cocky he came across, and the way he implied things. I don’t need that in my life.”

  “Yes you do!” she blurts out. “Katie, this is exactly the type of thing I was talking about!”

  I can’t believe this. My own sister is advocating spending time with a murderer.

  “Amanda, this guy isn’t safe to be around.”

  “But he’s exciting! You could have some fun!”

  I roll my eyes. “It won’t be fun if I wind up dead.”

  “Oh whatever, Katie, this guy sounds fascinating!”

  “Fascinating, yes. Full of emotional and mental baggage, yes. But he’s arrogant and cocky, and I can tell that getting information out of him is going to be like pulling teeth. He didn’t want to talk, and honestly I’d be surprised if he shows up for his Wednesday session at all. Besides, he seemed to think that what happened between us gave him free rein to hit on me. I don’t need that in my life right now, okay? I just don’t.”

  I finish talking, but Amanda is just looking at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. A smile creeps up on her lips.

  “You like him,” she says in an awed voice. I open my mouth, trying to look shocked.

  “What?” I say. But Amanda’s smile is only getting wider.

  “You like him! This is exactly how you acted when we were kids and there was some boy you liked. You’ve got a crush on him!”

  “Oh come on, Amanda,” I say. “I’m not twelve, I don’t have a crush on him. Like I said, he’s cocky and stubborn.”

  “And how did that make you feel?” she asks, repeating a question I so often ask whenever she’s concerned about something Doug did. I give her a sneer.

  “Annoyed,” I respond.

  “But you have been thinking about him,” she counters. “You were the one that brought him up.”

  “Yeah, but only because you were harping on about me experiencing something different,” I sling back. “And you’re right, I have been thinking about him. I’ve been thinking about how Wednesday is going to be our last session, and about how I don’t need that type of person in my life.”

  But Amanda just shakes her head and picks up her plate again, settling it on her lap.

  “That’s too bad,” she says, spearing a chicken ball onto her fork and taking a bite. “Because if you ask me, it’s obvious that you feel something for this guy. And so far, he sounds like the most interesting thing that’s
happened to you in a long time.”

  Katie

  “See, the problem with these new guys is that they don’t have that passion that I do, you know? They don’t have …” He chuckles. “… that fire in their belly.”

  I put on a fake smile and nod as Gregory sits back in his chair. So far, in our hour-long session, I haven’t written anything interesting on my notepad. Gregory’s mostly been complaining about two people who just joined the fire department. Although I must say, my insight last week has certainly held true so far.

  Truth be told, though, I haven’t been giving Gregory my full attention today. Part of me has been watching the clock, and my heart’s fluttered more than I’d like to admit whenever I think about who I’m scheduled to see next.

  That is, of course, assuming that he even shows up.

  “I don’t know,” Gregory goes on, crossing his arms. “The way I look at it, some of these men — and women too, now — all they did was just pump some iron and boom, they think they can wrangle the beast.” He shakes his head. “But they just don’t have the discipline that I do.”

  “Mm,” I say. I glance up at the clock again and see that there’s three minutes left.

  But apparently I’m a little transparent because Gregory asks, “Got somewhere you need to be?” and when I look back at him he’s staring right at me.

  “Hmm?” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Oh, no. No, I just want to make sure we didn’t go over our time.”

  Gregory nods, examining me. “Say, what ended up happening with that man who came in here last week? That big guy in the leather jacket.”

  My heart flutters and I try to keep a straight face.

  “He came in for a session,” I tell him. Gregory makes a disapproving noise.

  “He looked like trouble,” he says. “I’ve seen my fair share of bad guys in my time and trust me, this man fits the bill.”

  You have no idea, I think, but I don’t say anything. I only nod.