Page 128 of Hit Man

“I don’t avoid relationships with women because of what happened to my family.”

I feel like stomping my foot with disappointment.

“I do avoid relationships with women because of my job.”

Wine. I’ll grab the bottle and celebrate my failure as soon as he finishes proving to me that with a man like himself, in a chess game such as this, I’ll never, ever win.

“But,” he adds softly, his gaze steady, his eyes suddenly clear like cinnamon-tinted ice, “with you, I’m fighting like the devil to avoid a relationship for that exact reason. Because if anything ever happened to you, I think I’d lose my mind. I’m struggling to do the right thing. . . .”

“So teach me a few tricks. Help me learn how to defend myself. Not everything has to be a battle. We can do this together. We’ll take things slowly. Let things evolve naturally. We’ll take baby steps. Okay?”

I still. Hanging on by a thread as I wait for his response. I watch, fascinated, as his jaw relaxes and the invisible wall he’s so adept at throwing up comes crashing down. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I repeat, giddy with excitement.

“Let’s let things settle down in Mexico City. You’ll return home. I’ll call my boss and confirm my assignment’s at its end. I’m due for a break, even more so a holiday break. I’ll meet you stateside. You’ll move into my cabin in Sedona.”

“Whoa. I was considering San Francisco but . . .” But I can still reconnect with my professors at Stanford and follow thorough on my plans . . . from Sedona.

He grins at me and I roll my eyes.

“You want us to live together?”

“Live together. Sleep together. Take hikes up into the mountains together and watch the sunrises.”

“What happened to my suggestion about taking baby steps?” I demand with a smile.

“I’ve got big feet,chavita. Impossible for me to take baby steps with. You want me. I fucking want you so bad it’s impossible to think straight. So let’s do this. But understand, you want me so you’re going to get all of me. Hard. Fast. Intense.”

I gasp.

“You ready for that?”

I squeeze my eyelids closed. No. I’ll never be ready for this sexy beast. I count to five before opening them and giving him my most wicked look. “Bring it on, amigo.”

His grin is wide, his dimples causing my heart to thunder in my chest. Yet he’s got this mischievous twinkle in his eyes. . . .

I glance down at his lap.

Oh no. I’m in such trouble, because there, perched on his thigh, is a book. My book. My book ofFilthy, Dirty Street Spanish.He must have found it when he packed my belongings.

“You blushed so prettily that night we broke your bed, when I whispered all the kinky things I wanted to do to you. You understood everything, didn’t you? Naughty, filthy woman.”

I blush, and just like that, I’m breathless with anticipation.

He rolls to his feet, placing the book on the armrest, then tears off his shirt. His thumbs hook into his waistline.

“Strip,querida.”

Without waiting for me to act, he begins to do so.

I grin and wiggle out of his oversize sweatpants. Thinking how many times I’ve watched this devil strip. I’ll never grow tired of the sight of him taking his clothes off. My own privateMagic Mikeshow. But better. And . . . mine alone.

Impatient as ever, Diego helps me out of his T-shirt.

He cups my breasts, fondling them, teasing my nipples between his fingers. “I never wanted a woman the way I want you,” he murmurs. “Always. Forever.”

I feel like crying. Laughing. Encouraging him to recite a few lines from that book. Loving him deeply, yet aroused by the anticipation of our lovemaking. “Always and forever,” I repeat.