Hitman Wedding

by Eve Langlais

  She took him quite literally. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “I’m your client. You can’t restrain me.”

  “I can if I think it’s necessary. But don’t worry, there’s no extra charge for it.” She winked. When she approached him, he took a wary step back, and she laughed. “So skittish. I was going to grab your suitcase. Or were you planning to leave it behind?”

  He noted it behind him and felt stupid. What had he thought she’d do?

  As if reading his mind, she said, “Did you really think I’d tie you up here? You’re much too heavy to carry.”

  “Was that another dig about my weight?” Darren worked hard to remain fit, yet he was getting to be of an age where he should be more careful.

  “I’m sure you work out as often as your job allows.” The words trailed behind her as she left the storage room, and he hurried behind. Always following.

  They entered a garage area where she startled a man wiping down the car used to kidnap her. “Do you have the keys?” she said without preamble.

  The man frowned. “Where’re Lem and Benoit?”

  “Is that a yes or a no?” she asked as she neared the guy.

  “Eh, Benoit, que est-ce—”

  Whack. She punched him in the nose, and the guy grabbed his face, screaming. The sound was cut short when she clocked him again on the temple. He dropped like a sack of rocks. She rifled through his pockets.

  Darren resumed their conversation. “I am not fat.”

  Turning her head to look at him and dangling the keys she’d found, Marina snorted. “If you say so, tubby.”

  “I’ll show you tubby,” he growled, stalking toward her.

  “You’re right. We will see when you get in the car. Hopefully, we won’t have to drive on two wheels.”

  That kind of comment was why, after he tucked his luggage into the trunk with hers, he sat gingerly in the small vehicle. Being a wretched wench, she laughed as she hopped into the driver seat. “Your face. So priceless,” she snickered.

  “Now where?” he grumbled.

  “Do you have the address of the place your Declan found?”

  “Yeah.” He’d memorized it. He gave it to her, yet she punched in something else.

  “What’s that?” He jabbed a finger at the screen as she approached the loading doors to the warehouse.

  “Basic rule of using a GPS on a car you’ve stolen. Never enter your true location.”

  The rebuke brought a wince. Subterfuge obviously wasn’t his strength.

  When she pulled out her phone, he snatched it from her hand.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Give it back. I need to call Sergei.”

  “Nope. Not happening.” He rolled down his window and pitched the phone. He then tossed his after it.

  “You idiot. Now how are we supposed to get any field support?”

  “We’ve got money and brains. We don’t need anyone.”

  “Says you.”

  “Yeah, says me. No calling anyone for the next little bit, not until we know who is betraying us on the inside.”

  “Sergei wouldn’t do that.”

  “Neither would Harry.”

  “I don’t like you.”

  She said it first this time.

  “Too bad,” was his reply.

  A red light meant they were stopped and could glare at each other. The tension between them was taut. Ripe with expectation. He couldn’t help but remember the kiss. That stupid, sizzling embrace that made him feel things. The same feelings he had when he kissed Fran. Except now, he knew there was no Fran, only Marina, yet it didn’t change the attraction.

  He broke the eye contact first, turning his head and uttering a brusque, “I meant what I said before. We should find a place to crash for the night.”

  “I’m not tired. I can drive. But first, we need to change cars. They’ll be looking for this one.” She stopped the car and motioned for him to get out. They were still within the warehouse district, which meant little light and even fewer prying eyes.

  He exited and grabbed the luggage from the trunk then waited as she bent down and did something under the steering wheel before exiting herself. As she strutted away, he joined her, trailing the two damned suitcases behind him like a servant, wondering how far they’d have to walk before finding a new ride.

  A whoosh from behind startled, and he peered over his shoulder to see the car on fire.

  “That should muddy our trail a bit,” she said as she tried the doors on cars parked by the sidewalk.

  “We’re stealing another car?”

  “Borrowing,” she stated as the third vehicle bore fruit. “But we won’t be taking it far.”

  They took it only as far as a main road, where they ditched it, intact, and caught a taxi, which deposited them at a seedy hotel on the outskirts of the capital. The kind that didn’t ask questions and kept no records when paid in cash.

  The one thing she did that he thought odd was asking for a single room.

  “Only one?” he asked when they’d reached their floor—the fifth level, and via an elevator that creaked and groaned.

  “It will be easier to protect you if I’m close.”

  She opened the door and went in first, checking out every nook and cranny, peeking in the bathroom and even out the window before kicking off her shoes.

  Given that Darren would probably get billed somehow for this hotel—despite the fact that the money she’d used was stolen—he felt no qualms about throwing himself on the coverlet and declaring, “Mine.”

  What he didn’t expect was for her to land atop him stating, “Share.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What are you doing?”

  “You were the one who said we needed to rest,” Marina said.

  “Then you should have gotten two beds.”

  “Seems like a waste when we can share this one.” She wiggled atop him, meaning to fluster him, and it worked. His cheeks took on a ruddy color, and his gaze smoldered. What she didn’t expect was to get flustered herself.

  Don’t lie. She’d known what to expect. The kiss had given her ample warning. It had ignited the simmering passion that he always managed to evoke. For all she kept saying she’d used him, exploited his body, abused his trusting nature, she’d enjoyed it. Enjoyed him.

  I miss him. Miss what we had.

  “Get off me.” Spoken through gritted teeth, Darren glared.

  Perhaps, had he reacted favorably to her presence, she might have backed off, but this stubbornness of his, this insistence that he didn’t want her, she didn’t like it. Especially since the hardness pressing against her told the real truth. “Feels more like you should be saying ‘get me off.’”

  “I am not having sex with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you. I don’t sleep with my employees.”

  The rule made her roll her eyes. “You and your morals.”

  “Don’t mock my ethics. At least I have some.”

  “And they’re cute, if misplaced. But since you are so adamant about it, for the next hour, I won’t be in your employ.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, I will tell Sergei not to bill you. Right now, we are just a man and a woman in the same room, wearing too many clothes. I say we do something about that.”

  “No.”

  “No, it won’t take an hour?” She gyrated again, noting how his nostrils flared. “I agree. Probably ten minutes, tops. Although, we might be able to extend that with a bit of foreplay.”

  “This isn’t amusing.”

  “You’re right. It’s not. I am aroused, and you are doing nothing about it.” Usually, by now, she’d be flat on her back with her legs on his shoulders as he entered her.

  “Don’t you see how wrong this is?”

  “Not really. You are attracted to me, and I am attracted to you. We should be adults about it and have sex.”

  “That isn’t a solution.”<
br />
  “Why not? You know it will feel good.” She punctuated that claim with a tug on his lower lip.

  He turned his head, freeing himself. “What if I don’t want casual sex?”

  “You had no problem before. As I recall, all we did was have sex.”

  “We did more than that,” he retorted.

  She looked him dead in the eyes. “Are you going to claim that we talked and spent hours going on dates and other things couples do?” She arched a brow. “You can’t because we rarely left the apartment, and when we did, it was only to grab food so that we had energy for more sex. You never really tried to get to know me. Never even made it to one of my photo shoots.”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working.”

  “You don’t have to lie. It was obvious you weren’t interested in me as a person.”

  “Well, that person was fake.”

  “That isn’t the point. You might have realized that had you spent more time getting me to talk rather than blowing your cock.”

  “You are vulgar.”

  “And you’re a hypocrite.”

  “How am I a hypocrite for not wanting you to use me as a dildo to get off?”

  “Because, when you thought I was some vapid model, you had no problem using me.”

  His lips flattened. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll forgive you”—she lowered her voice to a husky whisper—“if you do that thing with your tongue.”

  Rather than bury his face between her legs, he shoved at her.

  Or tried to. Marina held on to him, enjoying how he bucked and heaved, but didn’t hurt. Even now, frustrated and angry, Darren didn’t lift a hand to hurt her.

  It made stripping him so much fun.

  He yelled, “Stop it.” His hands grabbed for hers.

  She evaded them and laughed as she said, “Make me.”

  The wrestling involved much ripping of clothes, popping of buttons until he was clad in only his boxer briefs. She stood in triumph, lips curved into a satisfied smirk. “That’s better.”

  “You’re insane,” he growled, sounding angry, yet he couldn’t hide his erection. The front of his shorts tented, but it was his smoldering gaze that promised the pleasure to come.

  About time.

  She stripped off her shirt and let it hit the floor. He stared at her. She unbuttoned her pants next, shoving them down and kicking them away, leaving her clad in only her underpants and a bra.

  He rose from the bed, stood staring. Hungry.

  She understood that emotion. She crooked a finger at him.

  He hesitated, and she got to watch his inner battle. Morals lost to need. He dove at her, his big body slamming into hers, pushing her back until she hit the wall hard enough that she gasped.

  This was the passion she’d missed. The man she couldn’t stop craving.

  He leaned his heavy body against her, and his lips found the soft curve of her neck. He nibbled and sucked, teasing her sensitive spots, knowing her body and how to please her. She couldn’t help but run her fingers through his short, thick hair, her head arched back to give him unhindered access to her flesh.

  He didn’t kiss her lips. Didn’t say a word as he trailed a fiery path down her neck then lower still until he nuzzled the valley between her breasts. His hot breath steamed her skin. The rough bristles on his jaw scraped.

  She trembled in anticipation as his mouth brushed over the fabric of her bra. He nipped at her nipple before sucking it through the material, drawing a groan from her as he teased. He drew most of her breast into his mouth, frustrating her because she wanted to feel his mouth on her skin.

  “Take it off,” she demanded.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” he growled against her, the sound vibrating her flesh.

  He bit the tip, and she cried out, arching away from the wall, pushing into him. Then, since he wouldn’t remove the bra, she reached behind to fumble with the clasp, but it refused to cooperate, and she made a sound of frustration.

  “Impatient?” he teased, but at the same time, he pushed her hands away, and she heard a rip as he tore the offending thing from her.

  The air of the room kissed her newly bared breasts, still damp from his sucking. Quivering with anticipation. He didn’t disappoint, latching onto her nipple, sucking it, pulling it into his mouth, the hard tugs sending an exciting jolt to her sex.

  He swapped breasts, giving the other the same attention, making her moan and tremble as her body reacted to his touch.

  When he dropped to his knees, she held her breath. She knew what to expect.

  Craved the pleasure he would give.

  But he teased her first, nuzzling the soft flesh of her belly. He took his sweet time, pressing kisses against her, his hands gripping her thighs. He rubbed his face against her mound, the thin fabric of her panties barely a barrier.

  Could he tell how wet she was for him? How much she ached?

  His hands pushed at her legs, and she eagerly parted them to give him access. He pressed kisses against her, the panties in the way of his lips, and still she moaned, her fingers clutching at his head, urging him to do more.

  She even pushed her pelvis forward, a silent invitation, but he wanted to tease. He kissed her inner thigh. Soft, light caresses.

  She released his hair to tug at her panties, and he laughed against her skin, making her shiver.

  “You’re awfully impatient.”

  “I’m going to finish without you if you don’t hurry up,” she grumbled as her panties hit the floor and she stepped out of them.

  “But your body is like a fine wine,” he said, rubbing his rough cheek on her thigh. “It should be savored.”

  “Then savor it, dammit.” She grabbed his hair and pushed his face against her. She expected him to fight, but instead, he went willingly, burying his face between her legs as he ran a long, wet lick against her sex. She sighed. Then cried out as he parted her nether lips and let his tongue stab her. He lapped and then flicked her nub, skimmed and licked, over and over again, giving her what she craved.

  “Yes,” she hissed as she rocked against his face. Pleasure built inside her, fast and familiar. She let it fill her up. He clamped his lips down on her clitoris, tugging it, and she cried out as her climax hit. The waves of her orgasm rippled through her channel, fun but so much better when she had something to grip.

  “Fuck me,” she demanded. “I want to feel you inside me, now.”

  He didn’t argue. Rather he stood, dropped his boxers then gripped her leg, pulling it up and around his hip, angling her body in a way that exposed her to him. He plunged into her, his long and thick shaft big and familiar, filling her up so perfectly. She clung to him and panted as he thrust. Made soft moaning sounds as he pumped into her, his hard cock a mighty piston that was exactly what the ebbing waves of her orgasm craved.

  Her pleasure began to coil again, a spring that wound itself tighter and tighter. He had to push and pull with each stroke, the suction of her body not wanting to let him go.

  She couldn’t have said who started the kiss, only that it happened. Their lips clashed, and she tasted herself on him. And liked it. The aroma of her arousal an unnecessary aphrodisiac. She clung to him as he kept pumping, his strokes hitting her at just the right angle, just the right spot.

  The muscles in her channel tightened. Her body tensed. The need in her coiled. Her sex clung to his cock, squeezing him as he tipped deep, pushing against her. Pulsing inside her.

  When she climaxed the second time, she did so loudly, the scream ragged and high-pitched. She didn’t hide it or hold it in. His fingers dug into her flesh as he drove hard and deep one last time.

  Their passion spent, they staggered to the bed where they lay panting, their skin dewy on the sheets. The sex as incredible as ever. Maybe even better because she could be herself.

  They slept, wrapped around each other, which led to early morning sex. Sex in the shower. Only the lure of food dragging them from the
room and into reality. When he offered to go get them coffee and donuts, she agreed, watching from the window until she saw him cross the street. Then, using the clunky phone in the room, she entered a series of numbers, a string of digits she’d memorized a while ago for use in case of emergency.

  The phone was answered, and no one spoke. She recited a stream of letters and digits, a code that indicated her identity and that it was safe to speak. Then she gushed quickly in Russian, “I am with Darren. We were ambushed last night, so we’ve gone off-grid.”

  “Whose idea was that? And what have you done to your chip? It’s not broadcasting your signal. It hasn’t uttered a single blip since you escaped the island. And don’t tell me it’s because of the water again. You’re not anywhere near water.”

  “I think it got wrecked from a bullet that skimmed me.” The furrow on her arm had scabbed and only throbbed a little when she soaped it.

  “And you just thought to tell me now?”

  “Forget the chip. I only called to let you know I’m still with Darren. We’re going to visit someplace outside the city.”

  “Where?”

  She told him.

  Sergei whistled. “That’s a few hours out of town.”

  “Think of it as racking up billable hours.”

  “Is that bill going to get paid?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re soft for him.” Sergei didn’t bark it. He didn’t sound mad at all, which worried her.

  “I feel nothing for him.”

  “I think you lie. Perhaps you should come home and let someone else take care of him. Someone more objective.”

  “I can do my job.”

  “Can you? I guess we’ll soon see.”

  She hung up the phone and watched as Darren jogged back across the street. Sergei would kill her if he knew she’d let Darren out of her sight. What was she thinking? She had a job to do, and fucking Darren wasn’t part of it.

  Yet that didn’t stop her from grabbing him the moment he walked through the door and riding him hard a few minutes later, eyes closed against the future, living only for the pleasure of the present. Pretending tomorrow would never come.