My men herd her around the front of the car and toward me. I holster my gun at my lower back and slide my arm around her waist. My fingers slide beneath her shirt and the top seam of her jeans. If I weren’t intimidating her, I’d appreciate how smooth her skin is. But I press my fingers into the front of her waist while my thumb does the same from the back. I’m not pinching, but I am steering her.
My guys hang back, and I know they’ll fan out to surround the building. A couple will say they’re waiting to meet a friend in the lobby. Not entirely a lie since they’ll wait for me to return. We have this protection plan well-choreographed from years of practice. The guys in the lobby will watch where the elevator stops and radio the guy in the stairwell to tell him where to meet us. He’ll stay by the emergency exit.
One of my guards searched her purse as we walked up to the building, so I already have her key card. When we’re at her door, I step behind her, reaching past her to swipe the piece of plasticagainst the sensor. I nudge her, and she presses down on the handle.
“You’re really going to use me as a human shield?”
“Do you fear going first?”
“Not very machismo of you.”
“Chiquita, I may want to fuck you, but I don’t love you. I’m not protecting a woman being paid to kill me.”
The words tumble out of my mouth, devoid of any softer sentiment, but I don’t mean them. If I believed something on the other side of the door posed a threat, I wouldn’t let her go in first. But she doesn’t need to know that. I might not willingly endanger any woman, but she doesn’t need to know that either. She needs to believe I’m treating her like any other mercenary. I’d have killed most already.
The bathroom door and closet doors stand open; a safety measure she took to ensure she didn’t enter her room to a hidden surprise. It makes it easy for me to assess the situation, seeing no threat. I reach behind me and flip the deadbolt and latch. It might keep my men from coming to my rescue, but it also means the fucker from the other night or anyone else isn’t coming to her defense.
She spins around, thinking she can take me by surprise as she attempts to wrap her ankle around the back of my lower calf to knock me off balance. My arm’s still around her waist, so I merely lift her off her feet. She kicks my shins, but I don’t flinch. I grew up playing soccer with cleats but not always shin guards. What can I say? My cousins and I were dumbasses trying to prove ourhuevoshad dropped.
I shift and lift her higher, guiding her legs around my waist. It presses her pussy against my cock. Neither of us is surprised as I harden, but it keeps her from kicking me. I consider taking her to the bed, but I don’t need her to panic. Instead, I walk over to the chair she definitely moved away from the window. With itsarms and back curving as one piece, it traps her legs behind me. She’s not getting off unless I let her.
Double entendre intended.
“Tell me who sent you.”
Silence.
“Tell me you don’t want me.”
Silence.
My right hand trails up her thigh and slides around her hip to grasp her ass. She doesn’t react. I squeeze—hard. Her hips nudge a fraction of an inch forward before she stops herself. She plays it off as though she’s tempting me. She is, but I have control.
My other hand finally has the chance to enjoy her skin that’s smoother than any satin I’ve felt. I feather my fingertips up both sides of her spine until I reach her bra clasp. Our gazes are locked, and I know she reads the desire in my eyes as clearly as I read it in hers. I inch my fingers beneath the band, and I feel her ass tense in a way that means she must have Kegeled. My hand on her ass presses her forward and harder against my dick.
My other hand’s fully beneath her bra clasp now, my palm resting heavily against her back. I tilt my hips, pushing her higher onto my dick. Her hands go out to brace herself, resting on either side of my shoulders.
“Hands behind your back,chica.”
She obeys but not before they trail down my shoulders, over my chest to my abs. My fingers turn to claws as I dig into her ass cheek. She squeaks and hurries to follow my command.
“Good girl.”
Her nostrils flare, and I know she likes this. We both know we shouldn’t—like it or do it. But this has been building for weeks.
“You could’ve tried to kill me at least six different ways since we came in here. Why haven’t you?”
“At least eight, and I’m curious.” She gives me a nonchalant one shoulder shrug.
“Curious to see how many other ways you can conceive of killing me? Or curious about how soon we’ll fuck?”
“Very sure of yourself.”
“As easily as you can feel how hard I am, I can feel the heat from your cunt through your jeans and my trousers.”
We both know I can’t, but she doesn’t refute it. We both know I could slide my hand down the front of her jeans and panties and find her soaked. Her nipples poke against her bra and shirt.
Definitely not padded.
