Last Hit (Hitman) (40 page)

He told me about him over dinner. The priest was a pedophile and laundering money out of the coffers of the church. He'd come to the attention of someone higher up in Russian mob circles, one of the rare Catholics in the system. He'd gone down almost immediately, though Nick tells me the man begged for his life the entire time.

Nick did not spare it.

I listened to the story without comment, knowing why Nick feels compelled to tell me these awful things about his past. I know he thinks he's not worthy of my love. I know this, and I never judge.

Nick was made into a creature of the
Bratva
system, a cold, emotionless killer who murders for money and thinks nothing of it.

Or so he'd have me believe. But my Nick, my
Nikolai
—he is not cold. He is not emotionless. And he thinks of his victims as he lies down to sleep next to me.

I can feel the tension in his big body as he pulls me against him in the darkness. It's nights like this, when he holds me so, so close, that I know he's tormented inside.

And it's on nights like this that I can show him just how much I care.

My hand strokes over his chest, over the motto there.
Death is a mercy.
"Do you still believe this?" I ask him.

His hand brushes over mine, caressing it, and then he presses my palm against his heart. "I think, for first time in my life, I am not sure."

This is an answer that pleases me. Nick has lived with absolutes for so long that I enjoy his uncertainty. It means his worldview is changing. It means that he's not entirely the creature that they made him to be.

I slide my hand out from his and caress his nipple, teasing the peak. I want to play with his body. "Are you tired?" I ask, and there is a husky tremor in my voice that has nothing to do with sleepiness.

His chuckle in the dark is soft. "Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking we could try out our new bed." I bite my lip and slide my hand down the flat planes of his stomach toward his cock. God, I love sex with Nick. It's always a mixture of rough intensity and infinite gentleness, and each time, it's like the first all over again.

"You are not tired?"

He's always so concerned about me. Like I am some fragile flower. Today was an exhausting day because of the move into our apartment, but I feel invigorated now that we are here, in our bed.

We are starting our new life together.

I want to start it right. So I slide my hand to his cock and caress the bulge there. He's already erect. My Nick needs no more than a hint of encouragement, and he's ready for sex. It makes me feel incredibly desirable to know that I can bring him to an intense erection with little more than a word or two. "I'm not tired," I tell him, and I add, "It seems like you're not very tired, either."

And I lean in and nip gently at the skin on his chest.

He groans, holding me closer to him. I know he loves it when I touch him. I move my mouth over his pectoral, kissing at the skin there, and then I graze my lips over his nipple.

I feel his body jolt in response, and then he's flipping me onto my back in the bed, taking control. "If my Daisy wants pleasure," he says, and his voice is a low, thickly accented thrum, "I will give it to her."

Excitement flares through me, and I wiggle with anticipation under him. I'm disappointed that it's so dark in the new apartment. I want to see his lean, tattooed body looming over mine. My hands reach for him, and I trail them along his skin even as he moves over me and begins to hike my sleep-shirt up over my torso. A second later, cool air kisses my breasts, and then his mouth is on them, hot and hungry.

I gasp at the sensation of his teeth scraping at my nipples, followed by his tongue as he soothes away the sting. Nick loves my breasts, though they're not impressive by any means. He loves everything about me. He tongues my nipples into hard peaks, leaving me gasping and moaning his name. My nails dig into his shoulders because I know he loves that—hints of roughness mixed with the tenderness.

"My Daisy," he groans, and he begins to kiss a trail down my belly. "Beautiful, precious, wondrous Daisy. I will never tire of your taste."

His sexy words make my pulse flutter hard, and my legs part in anticipation of what comes next.

Nick slides further down, until I can feel his hot breath on the vee of my sex. This is one of his favorite things—to lick my pussy until I have at least one orgasm, sometimes two. Sometimes more. One night, he wanted to see how many times he could make me come, and he licked me until I was so tender that the merest flick of his tongue sent orgasmic shockwaves through my body. I walked funny for the next day.

He was very pleased with himself, then. He likes to make me mindless with passion. Like it is a reward.

I don't want endless hours of sexual teasing tonight, though. I want Nick inside me, his flesh pushing into mine. I want that rough, wild joining of our bodies, and I want it now. So I dig my nails in harder to let him know I am impatient.

"Mmm," he says in that husky voice. "Are you wet for me,
dasha
? I think I must taste and find out."

Surely he knows how wet I am right now? I can feel the slickness between my thighs as I squirm with anticipation, his breath heating me between my legs. But then his mouth dips, and I feel his tongue stroke against my clit.

All the breath shudders out of me. A sound escapes me, high and keening. I'll never get used to the sensation. Never.

Nor do I want to. It feels more intense, more magical every time.

Nick murmurs something in Russian, and then he's licking me harder, swiping his tongue from clit down to my cunt. He licks and sucks at my flesh until I am whimpering with need, the orgasm building in intensity. It's never quiet, easy, routine sex with Nick. It's always fireworks and explosions. I love that he's able to tease me so easily, and that he takes such pleasure in it.

My hips raise as his mouth works me toward my first orgasm of the night. I arch into his mouth as he sucks on my clit, reaching for that pleasure. My fingers dig in to his scalp as I hold his head there, in just the right spot. "Oh, Nikolai," I rasp. "Oh, yes! Nikolai!"

He loves it when I say his full name. I hear his feral growl and then he tongues me even more swiftly, with even more intensity.

I shatter, just as he intends, and I'm crying out his name as I climax from his mouth alone.

Then he's moving over me, his big body sliding over mine. I feel him fit his hips between my own, feel the press of his cock against my sex. I'm so ready for him that even though I just came, I want more. When his mouth presses to mine, I greedily suck on the tongue that slides between my lips, letting him know just how hungry I am for him.

"My Daisy," he says, his lips moving against my mouth. Then he sinks in to the hilt, spearing himself within me.

I gasp at the pleasure that radiates from his cock buried deep inside me, and I wrap my arms around his neck. I hold him close as he pumps furiously between my legs, bringing me to another shattering orgasm in mere minutes.

His follows close behind, and I hear him groan my name as he comes. I feel him quake, feel his come inside me. There are no condoms separating us; I'm on the pill…for now. When we're ready, we'll move forward, and I'll be Daisy Anders, wife to Nick Anders. And we'll have children. But for now, I must go slow with my Nick. He's so new to being loved at all that I want to enjoy this time between just us.

Nick collapses on top of me, his weight delicious, skin sticky with sweat. I stroke and pet his skin, knowing that he loves nothing more than being touched after sex. I wrap my legs around his and cling to him, like a spider monkey, because I love the weight of his body pressing into my own.

He rolls onto his side, but I don't let go; I simply burrow closer to him. "I love you, Nikolai." I say this every day, but I think he needs to hear it as often as possible.

His arms tighten around me. "Daisy," he murmurs. "My sweet, wonderful Daisy. I love you more than life itself." His hand smooths my hair, and I nuzzle his neck. I love this cuddling after sex. I'm so glad Nick isn't one of those men that rolls over and goes to sleep.

Tonight, though, he's pensive. He continues to stroke my hair for long minutes, silent. Eventually, though, he asks, "Do you regret your life with me, Daisy? With my stained hands? It is because of me you have killed a man. I have taken your innocence in all ways." He sounds sad.

"Never," I tell him fiercely. It is the truth. "It is because of you that I am free, Nick. That my father is free from fear." I lean in and kiss his beloved mouth. "It is because of you that I love and am loved in return."

"You are too good, my Daisy." His voice is thick with emotion. "How did I ever find myself so lucky as to have one such as you in my life?"

"We were made for each other," I tell him, and I press my cheek against his heart. "Don't you think? It's like our lives had to happen the way they did so we could find each other at that precise moment in time. You never would have found me if you weren't a hitman working on that last hit. I never would have met you if you weren't. How can I regret these things?" I kiss the motto on his chest. "It's what brought us together."

He hugs me tighter.

Someday, my Nick will believe what I tell him. Until then, I'm content to cuddle in his arms and repeat my words of love over and over until they finally sink in and he realizes how much I adore him.

We're both patient people, Nick and I. We know how to wait, and there's pleasure in the waiting.

So I press my unmarked body closer to my lover's tattooed one, and I kiss his skin until he rolls me onto my back once more. We make love until the daylight shines through the open windows.

And then we sleep. Together.

<<>>

Look for Daniel and Regan's story in
Last Breath
, to be published in late spring 2014.

Special Thanks to Lisa and Milasy from The Rock Stars of Romance for their unflagging support and encouragement. We've had such a great time working together.

To our early readers: Daphne, Heather, Louise, Lisa, Melissa, and Michelle. Your insight was invaluable.

To Angie at Angie's Dreamy Reads, Natasha at Natasha is a Book Junkie, and Lisa and Milasy at The Rock Stars of Romance, thank you for hosting our excerpt tour. Special thanks also to the Mistresses at SM Book Obsessions for their "on target" giveaway.

Thank you to all of the bloggers who participated in our blog tour and/or reviewed our book: Sammie's Book Clubs, Book Drunk Blog, BestSellers & BestStellars, Miss Construed's Reviews, MrsLeif's Two Fangs About It, Romance Rewind, Reading Books Like a Boss, We Like It Big Book Blog, About That Story, Margay Leah Justice, Book Lovin' Mamas, A Love Affair with Books, missmepassionateLove, Between the Sheets, Starbucks & Books Obsession, Escape Into a Book, Whirlwindbooks, Mary Elizabeth's Crazy Book Obsession, Book Drunk Blog, Booze, Bookz, and Bad Boyz, The Flirty Reader, Eskimo Princess Book Reviews, The To Be Read List, Ripe For Reader, T and A After Dark, Fike's Book Blog, Book Breath Babe, Shh Moms Reading, Hesperia Loves Books, The Book Blog, Once Upon A Dream Reviews (formerly known as Life Becomes Me), Dirty Girl Romance, Sassy Girl Books, mustreadbooksordie, All Romance Reviews, A Little Bit Tart, A Little Bit Sweet, Rumpled Sheets Blog, Read This~Hear That, Love N. Books, Biblio Belles, xscape from reality with a book, ilove lady porn, Bound By Books, Scandalous Book Blog, Random Musesomy, I Read Indie, Room With Books, 2Bookaholics, Cruising Susan Book Reviews, who you callin a book whore, Dirty Books Dirty Boys, Perusing Princesses, The Romance Evangelist, My Daily Romance, Louisa's Reviews Louisa's Reviews, SMIBookClub, Mean Girls Luv Books, random jendsmit, Made For You Book Reviews, As the Pages Turn, Rookie Romance, Sugar and Spice Book Reviews, Miss Construed's Reviews, Paranormal Romance and Authors that Rock, Alphas Authors & Books Oh My, Susan Sager, Books, Coffee and Wine, Sassy Girl Books, I * Bookie Nookie Reviews, Sarah's Bookshelf, The Biblio-Files: Confessions of a Book Whore, Chapter Break, Made For You Book Reviews, My Daily Romance, First Class Books, Jess's Book Blog, Books UnHinged, Sizzling Pages, Three Chicks and Their Books, Louisa's Reviews, and Books Over Boys.

To all the reviewers who've left reviews and readers who've read our book, we will never be able to give enough thanks.

By

Jessica Clare

Copyright © 2013 by Jessica Clare

All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Chapter One

Even though the bar was thumping with loud music and the crowd was shoulder to shoulder, no one approached Logan Hawkings. He stood alone, an island of calm in a roiling sea of bodies. It might have been the “fuck off” expression on his face, or the crisp cut of his expensive tailored clothing that told people he didn’t belong in this neighborhood. It could have been because he walked with an arrogant swagger that made men get out of the way and women nudge their girlfriends with interest.

He wasn’t here to socialize.

He moved past the bar, down a narrow hall to a back room. A man—tall, head shaven—stood in front of the door there. The guard wore sunglasses despite being indoors, a suit, and an earpiece with a black cord that wound behind his ear and around the back of his neck. His posture becoming alert, the bodyguard watched Logan as he approached.

With a practiced ease, Logan swept the second and third fingers of his right hand over his shoulder and then rested them on his biceps in the exact spot where his tattoo lay under his clothing.

The man nodded and stepped aside.

Logan pushed the door open and strode down the stairs into the basement. Already there was a thick haze of cigar smoke above the large green octagon table set up in the center of the room. A buffet table had been set up off to one side and was being ignored. Beer bottles and poker chips littered the table. Ah, Brotherhood night. His favorite night of the week. Logan gave the room a quick once-over. Everyone was here already; he was the last one to arrive. No surprise there. The men seated at the table were roughly the same age. All were clean-cut, fit and wore clothes that spoke of money. They all carried themselves with the confidence that success brought, though in some, the confidence was more swagger than anything.