The Hitman Next Door Page 11

  There was tension in his face, a muscle leaping in his jaw, and yet the touch of his hand was slow, leisurely. As if he had all the time in the world to stroke and tease her, make her tremble and gasp. His gaze narrowed as if he’d found her response unsatisfying in some way, and his hand between her legs moved again, his fingers spreading apart the soft folds of her sex. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

  Vivi swallowed hard, shaking as his forefinger stroked down the middle of her pussy then back up again, brushing against her agonizingly sensitive clit. The way he was looking at her, so intense, demanding a response and aiming to get it no matter what. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, watching her face. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so fucking long.”

  She heaved in a ragged breath, barely able to take in what he was saying. It was difficult to even stay upright with that wicked hand of his between her thighs and she found herself leaning against his powerful body, gasping as his hand moved again, his finger pushing gently inside her.

  The slick glide of it was almost too much, a nameless fear clenching tight in her gut. “Rhys…” Her voice sounded far too thick and ragged. “Oh…God…I can’t…”

  “Yes, you can.” His finger pushed deeper.

  She groaned and pulled against his hold again, trying to get free, to escape the intensity of the pleasure, to get some distance. But he didn’t let her go, merely easing a second finger beside the first, going deeper, stretching her gently.

  Vivi gasped, sagging against him, the ecstasy of the sensation crushing her. No one had ever touched her like he did, with such care and purpose, as if her pleasure was the most important thing in the entire world. And nothing would distract him from giving it to her. Nothing at all.

  There was also something scary about that thought, something that touched on a vulnerability she hadn’t realized was there.

  He saw too much and the way he was touching her…

  His hand shifted again, his fingers pulling out before sliding back in, his thumb moving to stroke lightly over her clit, and it felt so good that she shut her eyes, unable to bear it. “Please,” she whispered desperately. “I can’t do this. I c-can’t, Rhys. It’s too much.”

  “You can.” His voice was soft and dark, and like a shock of cold water. “You said you trusted me, Vivi. So trust me and let go.”

  Another thrust of those relentless fingers, another pass of his thumb over her clit, making her hips shake and shift against his, making her give another trembling gasp. “Let go? Let go of w-what?”

  “Your control.”

  “But I…I’m not. I’m just—”

  He didn’t let her finish, lowering his head, his mouth covering hers, stopping the words and for some reason it was a relief. In fact, it was all a relief. She couldn’t pull away and he wouldn’t stop, and now she couldn’t even speak to tell him that the sensations inside her were making her feel too vulnerable and she couldn’t handle them.

  There was nothing she could do but trust him. And she did. Because whatever else happened between them, no matter how scared she was, she’d told him the truth. He’d always been her friend and he always would be. He’d be there for her. And now that she was free-falling, he’d catch her.

  So Vivi opened her mouth beneath his, let the hunger and heat of the kiss take away her fear, let the blinding pleasure of his touch overwhelm her.

  His hand moved faster, his thumb pressing down hard on her clit and she was shifting restlessly against him, no longer trying to escape now, but trying to ease the relentless ache, the building pressure. He nipped at her bottom lip, sending a jolt of pain through her and somehow that only added to it, intensifying the sensations until she was panting and desperate.

  “What do you want?” he murmured against her mouth. “Tell me, Vivi.”

  “You,” she replied raggedly, barely even conscious of what she was saying. “I want y-you. Please.”

  “You already told me that.” His fingers were pushing back into her before sliding out again, over and over. “I want to know what you want right now.”

  Her thighs were shaking, a tight and delicious tension coiling deep inside her. She knew what that was, it wasn’t like she was completely inexperienced. But every time she’d been with a guy, she’d been the one telling him what to do, taking charge to make sure it was mutually pleasurable.

  She’d never let a guy hold her like this. Touch her like this. Make her feel so utterly at his mercy. But it now was happening and she couldn’t stop it, and it was terrifying and yet exhilarating at the same time. Like a rollercoaster reaching the top of its climb before plunging down…

  “I want to come,” she said in a cracked voice, pleading and unable to help herself, her hips shifting against his hand. “Don’t stop, Rhys. Please don’t stop.”

  “Good girl.” He lifted his head, a dangerous, hot glitter in his eyes. “But you’re not in charge here. I am.” His fingers paused and then, unbelievably, slid out of her.

  She groaned in protest. “N-No, you can’t… Don’t leave. Please.”

  But he released her wrists finally and shifted, gripping her hips and turning her so she was the one facing the closed door, with him at her back. Then he pushed her gently up against it, the paint cool against her bare, heated skin.

  She tried to turn around to see what he was doing, but he said, “Didn’t I tell you to keep still?”

  “But I—”

  He gripped her nape, the sheer possessiveness of his hold making the rest of her protest die in her throat. Then his breath brushed her ear. “You heard what I said.”

  She had nothing to say to that, remaining where she was, the ache between her thighs relentless, every nerve-ending on fire.

  He let her go and there came the sound of a zipper being undone and the crackle of foil and her mouth - already dry - went even drier because she knew what was going to happen now.

  They were actually going to do this. He was going to have sex with her up against the bathroom door. A brief fear crept through her once again, about what would happen afterwards and where that would leave them, but this time she forced it away. Because now this was really happening, she wanted it. Wanted the pleasure he was obviously desperate to give her, and more than that, she wanted to give that pleasure back to him. Show him that she trusted him.

  But then even that thought disappeared because all of a sudden there was heat at her back, his palms on her hips pushing her right up against the door, his body covering hers. Then his hand was sliding over her butt and down, between her thighs, spreading her apart. She groaned at the feel of his fingers, the groan deepening as his hips flexed, the head of his cock pressing against her.

  She put her hands against the door, shuddering, the anticipation making her bite her lip to keep from making any more sounds. He was going to make her fall apart wasn’t he? He was going to make her scream.

  An arm slid around her, holding her still, while his other hand moved, his fingers sliding through her curls to find her clit. Then he thrust hard and deep, his cock stretching her at the same time as he stroked her clit, and Vivi felt the delicious tension inside her spring violently apart.

  She turned her cheek against the door as the orgasm crashed over her, shutting her eyes and crying out, her desperate voice echoing around the tiny bathroom as the pleasure swamped her, threatening to drown her completely.

  And that’s when Rhys’s hard body pressed her against the door, so she was crushed between hard, cold wood and hard, hot muscle, his cock pushing deep inside her then sliding out, driving deeper with every thrust.

  Vivi trembled and shook, dazed from her orgasm, shocked to feel the pleasure building relentlessly again, just as intense as the first time. The combination of the pressure of Rhys’s cock inside her, the heat of him behind her, the feel of his breath on the back of her neck and the fact that her best friend was screwing her, was doing things to her. Things she’
d never thought she’d ever want.

  Then the arm around her shifted, his fingers pushing between her thighs again, stroking her clit firmly, while his other hand came down onto the door beside her head. The sound of his breathing was loud in her ear, harsh and ragged, just as desperate and raw as hers was.

  “You like this?” he demanded, his lips brushing over the acutely sensitive skin just under her ear, the roughness of his voice making her shiver. “Me fucking you up against the bathroom door?”

  She shut her eyes, the eroticism of his words combining with the intense physical pleasure, getting tighter and tighter with each thrust. “Yes. I d-do.”

  “Who’s inside you, Vivi?” Another dark whisper, his teeth nipping the side of her neck, his hips pushing against her, crushing her against the door. “Whose cock is inside you? Tell me.”

  “Y-Yours.”

  “My name, Vivienne.” Another deep, driving thrust, his fingers pressing circling around her clit. “Give it to me.”

  She was shaking again, caught on the edge of another impossible, brutal climax. But she could give him this. She wanted to. “Rhys,” she gasped in a broken voice. “Rhys.”

  “Yes.” He moved faster, harder. “That’s right. Me. Finally, sweet girl. Finally, you’re mine.”

  Everything began to come apart, lost beneath the intense pleasure of his fingers on her and the hard driving rhythm of his cock inside her.

  She screamed against the white paintwork of the door as the orgasm came for her a second time. But she wasn’t alone.

  As her hands spread open against the wood, his came down on top of hers, covering them, his fingers curling around hers. And he moved, slamming hard into her before stiffening, the hoarse sound of his cry following hard on the heels of her own.

  And this time they were free-falling together.

  8

  Rhys couldn’t move. He knew he was probably crushing her, and yet he couldn't bring himself to shift away. She was pinned between him and the door, all soft skin and heat, the scent of vanilla and feminine musk heavy in the air around them. He’d never been so completely in the moment as he was right now, with her right there, the hot, tight slickness of her pussy gripping his cock like it never wanted to let him go. The culmination of every fantasy he’d ever had.

  Well, nearly every fantasy. He hadn’t let himself go completely or been as rough or as hard as he’d wanted to be. He’d only allowed himself a few nips here and there. But that was okay. Staying in control was the most important thing and he’d managed that at least.

  He’d fully intended not to take it further with her, to protect her completely from him, yet when she’d dropped that towel and looked at him with challenge, heat burning in her eyes, he hadn’t been able to hold out. He’d tried, God knew how hard he’d fucking tried. But he’d wanted her for too long and when she’d said the words he’d been longing to hear for so many years — I want you — fuck, he’d just lost it.

  And now she’d given him this most incredible gift, despite knowing he was a killer, despite knowing he was dangerous, and it had been everything he’d imagined and more.

  He turned his face into her hair, inhaling the scent of shampoo and the vanilla perfume of her skin. His fingers were still curled around hers, pinning her hands to the door on either side of her head, and he didn’t want to let them go either. She was right here, right where he’d wanted her for so many years… Christ, he didn’t think he could let her go.

  This was what he’d always wanted. Her friendship and her body. The whole of her. And now that he'd had a taste…

  You cannot keep her.

  Fuck, of course he couldn’t. She said she knew him, but she didn’t. And once he’d told her, once she knew the real reason he carried a gun, and about all the lies he’d told, she wouldn’t want him. She’d never want to talk to him again.

  But he could have this moment couldn’t he? This moment right here, and maybe the moments after, spin this out a little longer. It was selfish of him, sure, but shit, he needed it. He’d had too many years of goddamned nothing to give her up so easily now.

  Slowly, he lifted his hands, keeping their fingers entwined, folding his arms around her, holding her close. He brushed his mouth against the side of her elegant neck then licked her, tasting the salt on her skin, earning him another of those delicious little shivers.

  Now he’d taken the most dangerous edge off, there shouldn’t be any reason he couldn’t stay in control of himself. If he kept it all about her, that should make it easier.

  One thing was for sure though; they needed a bed. He should have taken her there the moment she’d dropped the towel, but he hadn’t been able to wait. Christ, he wanted his clothes off and her bare skin against his, and a place to lie her down so he could explore her properly.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice not sounding like his own. “Are you sore?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Good.” He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Because I want you in bed right now.”

  A soft, almost disbelieving laugh escaped her. “Again? Already?”

  “I have years of fantasies to catch up on, remember?”

  Her breath hitched. “Oh yes, that.”

  He lifted his head and tilted it, gazing at her profile, half turned away from him. “You have something to say about that?”

  “No. I just…” She let out a breath. “It was a shock, that’s all. I never knew.”

  “Because I never said.”

  “Well, exactly.” She turned her head toward him, her eyes still dark with pleasure. “How long?”

  He could give her nothing but the truth. “Since I was sixteen.”

  “Sixteen? God, Rhys. Why didn’t you ever say something to me?”

  “You never gave me any indication that you felt the same way and I didn’t want to change things between us.” I wanted to protect you from everything I was, everything I became…

  She frowned, as if that explanation didn’t really satisfy her, but she didn’t push. “So what changed?”

  “You really don’t know?”

  Her gaze flickered. “I mean, apart from the whole being shot at thing.”

  With some reluctance, Rhys let her go, easing himself out of her and turning to deal with the condom. He didn’t want to tell her, but it seemed wrong not to. “You were going to put off a night with me for a date with that asshole Neil. And I decided I was sick that. Especially when I could give you everything he could. I was going to ask you out, but…”

  “But…you didn’t.”

  He turned back to her, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “I was going to. Then you were shot at and I had to get you away, which pretty much screwed up that plan. But then we got here and when I got those keys off you, the way you looked at me made me think that it wasn’t as screwed as I thought.”

  She was leaning against the shut door, her arms folded protectively over her beautiful, generous tits, still flushed with the effects of what he’d done to her, watching him from underneath her bangs. “That doesn’t explain the two years since you’ve been back here where you didn’t say a word.”

  Right, and pity there was no way to tell her about that without telling her everything else. Which he’d been all set to do, until she’d dropped that towel and told him she wanted him. Now he didn’t want to talk anymore, didn’t want to discuss it. What he wanted was this moment as long as he could have it, until he couldn’t put it off any longer.

  He finished undoing the buttons, shrugging out of the cotton. “You really want to have that conversation now?”

  Her gaze dipped to his chest and then further down, her cheeks flushing even deeper, and yeah, that was pretty fucking satisfying, because it was clear she liked what she saw. “No.” A breath went out of her. “Not really.”

  Well, that was a goddamn relief.

  “Good.” He undid his shoes and kicked them off, then shoved down his jeans and underwear, stepping out of them.
“Let’s keep on doing this instead.”

  She blinked, her gaze dipping once again to where his cock was already getting interested. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Rhys.”

  “Why not?” He glanced over at the vanity, where he’d caught a glimpse of something glittering before, and there was the necklace he’d given her, sitting on the top of it. He reached over and picked it up. “Or were you lying when you said you didn’t want me?”

  Her mouth tightened as if the conversation wasn’t going the way she wanted it to, but all she said was, “No, I wasn’t lying.”

  “Then come here.”

  A golden spark of annoyance lit up her gaze. “I really hate it when you order me around, you know.”

  He felt it respond then, the dark predator inside him. The one that liked the chase and the thrill of taking down prey. The one that loved the kill. The part of him he’d always had to lock away, because enjoying the kill had nothing whatsoever to do with justice.

  It wanted her. It wanted to take her down, make her his in the most basic way possible. The way a wolf does. With its teeth.

  He had to catch his breath, force it back in the box he’d locked it in. “Don’t fight me, Vivi. I told you, I can’t do this if you fight me.”

  That golden spark flashed brighter, because clearly, she didn’t understand the danger she was in. “Why not? What’s with the whole orders thing anyway?”

  Her challenge ignited in his blood like a lighted match thrown into a gas tank, a burst of adrenaline going through him, and he had to hold onto her necklace very, very tightly to stop from springing into action. “Because it’s not a good idea.”

  “That’s not an answer. “ She lifted a brow. “What are you going to do? Go all Incredible Hulk on me and start smashing things up?”

  “No.” He took another long, slow breath, trying to calm himself the fuck down. “If you fight me, I’ll fight back.”