Beck: Hollywood Hitman (10 page)

“Sounds like you got a fuck-load of intel to me.” His voice was gravel.

She pressed her lips tight. Guilt cascaded through her eyes.

“You made that shit up?”

“My job is to build characters from the ground up.”

His chest tightened. He’d blown his cover and all for a sweet face, a hot ass, a great rack, and some pent-up desires.

Fuck.

His hands still clung tight to her waist even though the fear of her falling had long since passed. “What do you want to know?”

“Is Beck Tatum your real name?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Yes.”

“Birthplace?”

“Plano, Texas.”

“Where’s the accent?”

“You said birthplace. There wasn’t a question about where I grew up.”

“And that would be?”

“Moved twenty-one times before I was sixteen. So take your pick.”

“Guess you learned to like being the new kid.”

“Learned how to
be
the new kid.”

“Siblings?”

“One sister. Older. Haven’t talked to her—”

“In about eight or nine years.”

His body tightened. The giveaway. The one thing that had convinced him that Natalie knew more than she did. She’d struck the spot that hurt most.

“Why?”

“My job required mobility, flexibility, and silence. There were months I couldn’t communicate with anyone. Better to slip away than have her worry. I send birthday cards to my niece and nephew. The occasional email. She knows I’m alive.”

Natalie sucked in a deep breath. Her body pressed closer to him. No. No hiding what was going on in his pants. Guess that cover was blown too. Then again, this desire that leapt between them like a bolt of lightning hadn’t been a well-hidden secret as much as a complicit agreement between the two of them that they ignore the obvious.

Hard to do with her sweet body pressed against his dick and her chest pressed to his and those lips . . . those lush lips right in front of his . . .

“Where’d you get the scars?” Her voice was a near whisper. Her fingertip, a feather-light touch, slid over the long scar on his arm.

Electric heat tore through him. His breath clasped tight in his lungs. His nostrils flared. His scars?

“I . . .” His voice held gravel, betraying his desire. “That . . . that’s information I can’t—”

Her lips were on his. A soft press filled with heat and need. Like stone crumbling beneath the press of water, his strength dissolved. His mouth opened to hers and his arms clasped around her and pulled her body tight to his body. Soft and supple and the scent of her, the feel of her, driving him past what he knew was good for him, what was best for her, and what he knew could ruin them both.

A tiny moan escaped her lips. The sound drove him over the edge, reason fled his mind. His arms, like a vise, pulled her tight to him and his hand grasped the back of her neck. A deep need filled with greed and want and the desire to feel alive, to have Natalie, consumed him like a flame.

Her mouth opened and her tongue tangled with his. Her fingers pressing hard to his chest pulled his shirt up and her nails scraped over the flesh of his belly and chest.

Sweet heat flashed through him, the pent-up desire for Natalie dragging him under. The press of her nipples tightening beneath her shirt against his flesh. Her hips circling an incessant rhythm of want against his hard shaft. Her hand grasped at his pants and the button gave way, her fingertips pushing down beneath the waist and grasping his cock.

The pleasure from her stroke nearly dropped him to his knees. Her palm pulling over the tip of his cock, already wet with a drop of precome.

Wasn’t this what he wanted? What they both wanted? What they’d wanted since they’d laid eyes on each other at Villa Blanco? Hadn’t the heat nearly consumed them, already growing hotter with each passing day they were together? Her tongue pressed into his mouth and her hand pulled his cock. He cupped her breast and his thumb stroked the taut nipple.

A low moan from Natalie’s lips vibrated through his mouth. She pulled back from his kiss. Her breath came in short pants, matching his own breathing. Her gaze was big and bold, with her pupils consuming her eyes. Her mouth lush and swollen from his rough kisses and her cheeks pink with desire.

“Want to take me to bed, Beck Tatum? Or is that answer classified too?”

Chapter Thirteen

She didn’t ask Beck twice. She could barely believe she’d asked him once. In the silence between asking him to take her to bed and his answer, fear swelled in Natalie’s heart. Fear that Beck would reject her a second time. Not once, but twice she’d thrown herself at this man. Let him know of her want and her need for him, for his touch. He stood like stone, his eyes staring into her eyes, as though an internal battle raged. Uncertain and silent. His face belied nothing. No emotion. No indication of his decision.

Then those arms, those beautiful arms with the rippling muscles and the jagged scars that crisscrossed his skin were around her and sweeping her up and into them. His lips pressed to hers in a hot kiss that was deeper and less patient than the first. A kiss that told her all she needed to know about his answer to her question.

He carried her up the stairs and into her room, kicking shut the door. He set her on the bed and turned the lock. This one of two rooms in her home without cameras.

She waited in the center of her bed. A chill circled her body. From the shadows beyond her bed, Beck emerged. Lust clung to his face.

Fear clutched her belly.

Not fear of Beck, not fear that he would physically hurt her or harm her emotionally. She wasn’t afraid that Beck would do any of the things that the people she’d given her love to in the past had done to rip her heart to shreds. No, this fear was deeper, different, more vital to her survival. This fear was that she might care for Beck, someone who was good and strong and worthy of her heart. Learn to care far too deeply for this man who was quiet and had an internal compass that went beyond words.

“This is what you want.”

Not a question. A statement, but within Beck’s words, a pause. He presented her with an opportunity, even while his cock strained and his jaw muscle flinched and his desire for her was evident in his every move and his every look. He gave her this moment, this opportunity to turn him away, to say no, to reconsider the impulse she’d acted on when a sudden moment of desire had eclipsed her judgment.

“Yes.” To say otherwise was a lie.

In one fluid motion his shirt was off, and before her a cascade of rippling muscles. The very flesh she’d watched flex and work and remain strong through his brutal regimen was before her and ready for her touch. She sat up on her knees.

Beck was at the edge of her bed. A stone warrior, a body built to protect and serve and fight off any enemy, both known and unknown. With the lightest touch of her fingers, she reached out and traced the long, jagged scar that cut from beneath his left ear, down his neck, and across his pecs to his abdomen. A scar that seemed to slice his body in a diagonal. Would he ever tell her how and why?

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the part of the scar that lived over his heart. A growl deep in his chest burst out and his fingers wove through her hair. He pulled her head up and pressed his lips to hers. Hard and fast and filled with need, his mouth opened to hers and his hands ran over the cotton of her shirt and pulled at the bottom, bringing the fabric up and over her body.

His fingers unclasped her bra and his gaze was on her breasts. He looked up, a solemnity in his gaze. He leaned forward, and his lips covered the flesh of her nipple.

“My God, yes.” Her words slipped from her mouth on the heat of whispered desire.

He pulled her nipple deeper into his mouth, rolling his tongue around the sensitive flesh. One hand pressed to her back and his other tugged at the button of her jeans. He lifted her and pulled the jeans down and over her hips. He lay her back onto her bed. Still standing at the edge of her bed—the gaze, that look, that desire, he consumed her with his eyes.

Again the trickle of fear that he might think better and turn from her. Leave her wanting and naked and on her bed, filled with desire, and upon his departure, a shameful remorse that she would throw herself at Beck. A man who was meant to keep her safe, sacrifice his own life if necessary, get between her and any threat.

But no, there would be no rejection, no shameful remorse. He pulled at his jeans and they were off his body.

A hard cock, thick and long before her, and Natalie’s hips thrust up without even a touch, a whisper, a kiss, in response to what she witnessed so near her and what she wanted.

“My God, Natalie.” His nostrils flared, as though he could barely stand to watch her body writhe on the bed untouched by him. He clasped his cock and gave it a long stroke. Again her hips moved and her back bowed. She could feel the heat between her legs, the muscles tightening and the want for Beck to press his body onto her, to thrust his shaft deep between her legs, thick and real. A wet heat that needed satisfaction.

Beck stepped forward to the end of the bed. Her legs fell open, an invitation to him. Few thoughts, no control, nothing but unrepentant lust for Beck.

He bent forward and pressed his lips to the sensitive flesh of her thigh. Just close enough to cause more heat to throb in her clit. Her nails raked at the bed, clutching the sheets and pulling. He pressed a kiss higher on the inside of her leg, his fingertips edging along the silk of her panties. Another kiss, higher and closer, his hot sweet breath so close to her sensitive nub. He slid his fingertips beneath her panties and pulled the tiny slip of fabric over her legs.

She was spread open to him. The room lit by the light of the moon. His gaze filled with hunger as he stared at her pussy, and then his eyes, dark in the night, flashed back to her face. He lifted her leg and pressed one calf to his shoulder and then the next. Such exquisite pain knowing what would come next, wanting what would come next, needing what would come next.

Heat thrilled through her belly and down her legs, her hips undulating. She’d lost all control over her movements. Her toes tightened and then his breath was hot on her center and his fingers gently parted her swollen flesh.

God, yes.

His tongue slid down her slit, lapping at her juices. He probed deep into her core with his tongue. The hot, full feeling in between her legs. He pulsed in and out of her, his fingertip circling and pausing and then a gentle press to her clit.

Her entire body stiffened. Her breathing locked in her chest.

“Yes, Beck, yes.”

His tongue pulled from inside her body and pressed over her engorged nub. Then he pulled her clit deep into the heat of his mouth. Pulling and pulsing, he sucked harder and slid two fingers into her body, pulsing with the rhythm of his mouth. Her muscles clamped around him. She danced along that sharp edge of pure pleasure. Her head pressed hard into the pillows beneath her. Unable to control, unable to contain the pleasure that rammed through her body.

God, she wanted him to sink his cock into her core. To crawl over her and thrust deep into her. His lips sucked harder on her clit.

Fireworks of pleasure exploded in her blood.

“Beck, oh my God, Beck!”

His name on her lips, her clit in his mouth, her body filled with blissful pleasure. The edge, the precipice of bliss there as she fell into the boundless pool of pleasure.

***

Natalie’s muscles tightened. Her hips thrust and paused and thrust again until she quieted beneath his mouth. He pulled his lips from her sex and he was up and over her body. Those big heavy-lidded eyes, sated with pleasure, gazed at him.

He couldn’t resist her, his need to bury himself in her soft, hot flesh barely contained. To thrust hip-deep into her. He pressed his lips to hers. She throbbed beneath him, still wanting more. He looked into her eyes.

“I want you.” She traced a fingertip over his lips. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

He wanted her too. His cock edged her entrance and she pressed upward, seeking him. Restraint taxed him. His muscles tightened—gently, slowly, seeking to take every sensation and give Natalie pleasure as he entered her. The ring of muscles around her pussy tightened and drew him into her core. Her hand clasped around his ass and pulled.

Beck’s control was lost.

He thrust forward, her body a warm, wet sheath around his hard maleness.

His lips pressed to hers. So long since he’d felt this physical connection, this need, this want, this pleasure with another human. His work had been pain and sadness and barren of connection.

“I want you like this, I love this.” Natalie hands clasped his shoulders, and his gaze locked with hers as pleasure washed over her face. The tiny muscles around her mouth, her parted lips, her breath in short pants, the crease along her eyes, the heavy-lidded look of desire, and yet with each of his thrusts, her eyes widened and more pleasure burst into her gaze like a firework.

The beauty of her face, the light in her eyes, the connection between them as he pressed deep into her body and pulled back again and again.

“My God, harder!” Natalie called, and sank her nails into the flesh of his shoulders. Sweet pleasure mixed with pain. The muscles in his lower back tightened and his balls drew close to his body. A hot tingle as the come built toward the need for release.

Skin slapped against skin. He moved faster and her body was beneath his, her hips rolling and her pretty pink nipples bouncing taut and hard, pressing against the flesh of his chest.

“Please, oh my, God, please, Beck, please!” The lust and want in her voice pushed him over the edge. The heat shooting out of his body as his cock hardened and every muscle tightened. A thrill that started in his toes and raced up through every nerve ending exploding from his cock. A natural rhythm, a primal need, the heat tore through him and coursed out, spilling into Natalie, the two of them clasping each other close as they fell over the edge.

***

Beck jerked awake. His chest heaved. Where the fuck . . . he turned his head. Natalie. He was in Natalie’s bed.