His head whipped up. “W-w-what?”
I grabbed his chin, squeezing a little too hard but unwilling to loosen my grip. I let him see the resolution in my eyes. “The men trying to kill you will see the error of their ways.”
“You would kill for me?”
“There are far worse things than killing. I would do those things for you too.”
Swallowing, he let his eyes drift behind me to the shower. “The water will get cold.”
My hands slid under his arms and lifted. Surprisingly, his legs locked around my waist, and I carried him back to the counter. “Sit here and wait for me.”
“And if I don’t?” This was not a playful, bratty question even if he tried to make it sound like one. The air was too heavy, my confession too jarring for it to be anything but serious.
Bracing my palms on each side of his hips, I invaded his personal space. “There’s more you need to know. About the men trying to kill you. At least let me tell you everything.” I took a breath.Say it, Kieran.“After you’ve heard everything, if you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”
I’ll just follow you.
“That’s not all I need to know.”
My eyebrow arched. “Why people want you deadisneed-to-know.”
“You can’t just tell me you’re a hitman and not give me details.”
“Details,” I repeated. If he thought I was going to taint him with the heinous things I’d done and seen, he was in for a very big disappointment.
“Yeah, like what’s your kill count? Where’d you get all those weapons? Does Ghost work with you? What about Doc? He seems too nice to be a killer. How’d you even get this job? I don’t think this is something you apply for on LinkedIn. Do you applyon the dark web? Oh, and what do you do with the bodies after? Have you ever dissolved one in lye? Does that really work?”
What in the ever-loving fuck?
“How have you managed to not get caught? Is this why you’re so rich?” His eyes widened, and he leaned forward. “Has anyone famous ever hired you?”
“Stop.” The harsh tone cut off his extensive list of utterly ridiculous questions.
He fell silent, but I could practically hear his mind going a mile a minute.
“Aren’t you afraid of me?” I asked.
“Should I be?”
“Yes!” I roared.
He made a face. “Well, I’m not.”
“Why?” I demanded. Most men pissed their pants when they saw me coming.
“Because you’re mine.”
Oh my damn.Did he just claim me? No one had ever claimed me before.
“No. You’re mine,” I argued, leaning in until I was sure he would feel the promise in my words gust over his face as I spoke. “And even if you leave, you’ll still be mine. It doesn’t matter where you go. Here is where you will always belong.”
He whined and reached between us to push his palm down on the dick tenting his shirt. “Stop being so hot.”
My stare dropped to his erection and the way it strained against the fabric. Lifting my eyes, I said, “It doesn’t bother you I’m a hitman?”
“To be honest, it kinda turns me on.”
“Get your cock out,” I demanded.
