Hitman's Desire: A Bad Boy Romance

C
opyright
© 2016 by Megan Riley

All rights reserved. Worldwide.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents, except for incidental references to public figures, products, or services, are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental, and not intended to refer to any living person or to disparage any company’s products or services. Every character referenced is over eighteen.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, uploaded, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter devised, without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

A
fter I kill someone
, I like to relax with a nice single malt scotch and a redhead. That’s why I’m here. This isn’t my usual type of place, but it was close to the job. And the bartender has a heavy pour.

It’s one of those hip and trendy skyline bars in midtown. I have to admit, the view of the city is amazing—especially at night. The downtown lights flicker and glow in a cornucopia of patterns and colors.

The bar is dark and accented with glowing blue backlights. The music pumps. The crowd is nothing but yuppie posers. They all look the same and think their shit doesn’t stink. I can’t stand these type of people. I’d take some of them out, but I only kill for money. If the jackass next to me doesn’t stop bumping into me, I may do some
pro bono
work.

I’m leaning against the bar, looking for a hot piece of ass. But I haven’t seen anything in this place that looks enticing. If I can’t find anything to fuck, I might as well get into a fight. But I suspect, in a place like this, any opponent I can rouse won’t be too challenging. One punch and done. Where is the fun in that?

The guy next to me is blathering on about what a badass he is. How he just totally dominated his most recent case. The guy is slurring his words and gesturing wildly. Every time he moves, a bit of his drink sloshes out. If a drop of his
girl-drink
hits my suit, my knuckles are going to find his face.

I take a deep breath and try to let it go. There has got to be something in here I can occupy myself with. A week out of prison after a two year stint, and I’ve got a hell of a load to drop. I almost feel sorry for the woman I get ahold of, cause I’m gonna wreck that pussy.

I scan the crowd and there she is.

Gorgeous.

Green eyes, red hair, milky skin. She’s flawless. High cheekbones and full lips.

Dick sucking lips.

And they are going to look great wrapped around my throbbing cock. She’s wearing a little black strapless dress that is painted on. My eyes fall over every luscious curve. Her tits are practically bursting out. I can see the outline of her nipples through the soft fabric. I want to get my mouth on them and taste her smooth skin.

The skirt rides high on her thighs, barely covering her pussy. And those fucking legs. I’m in heaven. They are going to look great wrapped around me. I can feel my cock start to adjust itself in my pants. The beast is ready for a feeding.

I catch her gaze, and our eyes lock. I give her my patented smirk that says:
I want your lips on my cock. Now.

She lifts an eyebrow and saunters toward me. She’s like a model on a Paris runway. Hips swerving from side to side. Tits bouncing. Poor girl. She’s not going to know what hit her. And if she’s in a place like this, I guarantee she’s not going to be able to handle me.

By the time she gets to me, I’m half hard. This is going to be like shooting fish in a barrel. I take a sip of my drink and try to stifle a grin as she steps to me.

FUCK!

She’s not coming to talk to me. She’s stepping up to the dickhead next to me. No way. That guy is a total tool. If he gets to bang that, there is no justice in this world. There is no way a guy like that can fuck her the way she needs to get fucked. She’s getting the short end of the stick. Literally.

“Who’s Jessica?” she asks. Her fierce eyes blaze into him.

“What?” the doofus replies casually, trying to play it off. But there is a hint of recognition in his eye. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the red head.

“You know. Jessica. The one you’ve been fucking for the last six weeks!”

“Scarlett, what are you talking about?”

I can’t help but smile a bit. This guy is on the wrong end of a red head. As everyone should know, that can be lethal.

“The little blonde paralegal in your office.” She raises an exquisite, arched eyebrow at him.

“Baby, you’re not really jealous of her, are you?”

“No. I’m not jealous. Jealousy would imply caring. And I’m done caring. It’s over.”

The luscious red head spins around and struts off. But a drunken hand grabs her arm and jerks her back.

“Do not walk away from me.”

Uh, oh. Not cool. This guy is full of himself. And he’s got no reason to be.

“Let go of my arm if you want to keep that hand.” Scarlett clenches her jaw, and her eyes narrow. If she had a superpower, it would be laser eyes. And she’d be burning him to a crisp.

The doofus releases his grip. “So, you’re breaking up with me just because you’re having some kind of paranoid delusion that I’m sleeping with Emily?”

“Not delusion. Proof.”

“What, do you have pictures of my dick in her ass?”

“No. I’ve got a confession.”

“Is this one of your ridiculous mind games?”

“I just got a phone call from Emily.”

The tool’s face goes pale. He tries to stammer out a response, but he’s at a loss for words.

“We’re done, Cole.”

She spins for the door. Her shiny hair whips around. It’s like a shampoo commercial. She’s so close, I catch a scent of her heavenly fragrance.

“Scarlett, wait.” The dickhead grabs her arm again and yanks her back.

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“You’re right. Our relationship didn’t mean anything. Now let go of me.”

He grips her arm tighter. “Let’s talk about this.”

She tries to pull away. “You’re hurting my arm.”

I’ve watched as much of this as I can stand. I clasp my hand onto his shoulder and dig into his flesh with my fingers like a vice. “Let go of her.”

He spins around and shoves me in the chest. “Fuck off.”

I don’t budge. He might as well have been pushing against a brick wall. I tower over the little runt.

His eyes go wide. But the liquor has made him brave. “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

“Put another hand on the lady, and it will be the last thing you ever do.” I glance over to Scarlett. There is a slight grin on her face, and a glint in her eye. She is enjoying watching someone put Cole in his place.

Cole sees the way I’m looking at his woman—his ex-woman. He sees the way she’s looking at me. His face gets red. The veins in his forehead bulge. Then he does something stupid. He grabs a beer bottle from a neighboring tabletop. Holding it by the neck, he smashes the body in half on the edge of the table. Then he lunges the jagged shards at me.

W
ho is this guy
? I can take care of myself. But I sure don’t mind him stepping in. Hot does not even begin to describe this man. He’s easily a foot taller, and a foot wider, than Cole. And pure muscle. He’s wearing a nice suit and a white shirt. The collar is unbuttoned a few notches, and I can see the hint of rippled pecks. Behind the fabric, I see the trace of an intricate tattoo that I’d like to get a better look at.

I glance up to his piercing blue eyes. They set my stomach aflutter. My body heats up and I lose my breath. I feel like a silly schoolgirl. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way when a man looked at me.

This gorgeous man is carved out of stone. Sculpted cheekbones, square jaw, and dark hair that looks perfectly untamed. He’s got just the right amount of stubble.

My heart is beating faster, and I feel a tingle run down my spine. I feel a pulse between my legs. I’m a modern, independent woman—but there is something thrilling about having a devastatingly handsome man stand up for you. Especially against your loser of an ex-boyfriend.

Cole is way out of his league. I begin to wonder what I was even doing with him in the first place. He never really cared about me. When I found out he was banging Emily, I wasn’t really all that pissed. More relieved than anything. Confirmation that he wasn’t the one. And this is even more confirmation that he has a below average IQ.

The jagged glass lurches toward my savior. But he doesn’t even seem concerned. In one swift move, he grabs Cole’s forearm and twists it around behind his back. He does it with such force, I’m surprised Cole’s arm doesn’t snap. With his other hand, he jams Cole’s hand towards his wrist, bending it farther than it can go. He moves with blinding speed. I get the distinct impression this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

The bottle drops, smashing to pieces.

Even over the music, I hear the bones in Cole’s wrist crackle and pop.

Cole screams out in agony.

“Apologize to her,” he says, lording over Cole.

Cole hesitates, but a little more pressure on his wrist convinces him to speak. “I’m sorry,” Coles stammers.

“Now get the fuck out of here.” The untamed man shoves Cole free. The bouncers quickly take over, pulling Cole out of the bar.

“I can take care of myself,” I say.

“I’m sure you can.”

He has a delicious smirk on his face. His eyes look me up and down. I feel the heat from his gaze on my chest.

“My eyes are up here,” I say.

“I know exactly where your eyes are,” he says, eyes still devouring my breasts. “Spin around.”

“What?”

“Spin around. I want to look at your ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I’m not usually impressed by muscle heads, or alpha jerks, but this guy has me weak in the knees. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was quivering. He’s got to be a total douche bag. Nobody looks that good, and has a good personality to go with it. Something has to be wrong with him. But I’ll play along, for now.

I sigh. “Fine, but only because you
were
such a gentleman.” I turn around and arch my ass out toward him.

“You’ll do.”

I spin back around and lift an eyebrow. “I’ll
do
?”

“Yeah. I’m just not sure you can handle it.”

“Handle what?” I say, coyly.

“How hard I’m gonna fuck you.”

My face is instantly on fire. And, yes, my pussy tingles. I’m wet already. It feels like a full minute before I can breathe again. I swallow hard and try to act like I’m not ready to jump all over this guy.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never, ever, contemplate sleeping with a guy I’ve just met. Now it’s the only thing on my mind. It’s got to be the adrenaline. I’ve been in lots of high adrenaline situations before. But I’ve never gotten this worked up. Then again, I’ve never seen a man quite like this one.

“That’s a little presumptuous of you, isn’t it?” I say.

“Pfft. Please. I bet you are already wet,” he says, stepping closer.

“I am so not turned on by you.” I can smell his cologne, and I feel his body heat. I squirm ever so slightly.

He leans in close. His full lips are inches from mine. My heart is pounding. My core is throbbing.

“Lets get out of here,” he says. His words are like velvet.

I nod, reflexively. A completely unconscious response—my body telling me what it needs.

He takes my hand and pulls me through the bar. We weave our way through the crowd.

What did I just agree to?
I know what I just agreed to
—a night of good fucking, hopefully. But I can’t believe I just agreed to it. It’s so not like me. I’m not an impulse shopper. I’m meticulous. I take notes. I research everything. I read all of the customer reviews. This is crazy. It’s not like I can look this guy up on Yelp. I don’t even know his name.

I can’t help but stare at his broad shoulders that taper into a V at his waistline. My God, does this man have a nice ass. I catch myself licking my lips, fixated on it as he walks. I’m practically drooling.

We get to the elevator, and his long thick finger presses the button. I bite my lip. You know what they say about long thick fingers?

There is still time to back out. No harm, no foul. I could just thank him for a wonderful evening and kiss him on the cheek, right?

DING!

The elevator doors open, and he pulls me inside. It’s a glass lift that overlooks the city, with a beautiful 180 degree view of the city lights. Breathtaking.

Several people try to pile into the elevator with us.

“This one’s full,” my savior says.

“No it’s not,” a drunk man says.

“Yes. It is.” My man’s voice is absolute.

The drunk man raises his hands in defeat and backs off. He’s not about to tumble with a guy like this. “Whatever you say, man.”

The door slides shut. The elevator jolts and drops down. Blood rushes to my head. I feel butterflies in my stomach. I’m not totally sure if that’s from the elevator’s downward force, or my anticipation. My heart is pounding. My skin tingles. I clench my core and squirm. The heat between my legs is intense.

I am alone with this stunning and powerful man. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.