Page 90 of Lady and the Hitman

“Someone could see,” I breathed, heart racing.

“I hope they do,” he said, voice full of dark promise. “Let them watch. Let them know exactly who you belong to.”

Then he was on me again—pushing the skirt of my dress higher, higher, until silk pooled at my hips. His fingers found the thin scrap of lace I’d worn beneath. He yanked it aside without ceremony, a rough groan tearing from his chest when he felt how wet I already was.

“Christ, Zara.”

I reached for him, clutched at his shirt, his belt, anything to ground myself.

But there was no ground left.

Only air. Hunger. Him, as he dropped to his knees in front of me.

I wanted to ask.

How many women had he brought here?

How many had seen this view, felt that possessive fire in his eyes, heard that same gravel in his voice?

Why me?

Why now?

But the questions tangled with the heat crawling up my thighs, twisted in my chest like ivy, and never made it to my tongue.

Because he saw it.

He saw the flicker in my eyes—the moment of doubt, of distance. The part of me that tried to retreat into my mind instead of surrendering to my body.

He didn’t allow it.

He gripped my thighs tighter, spreading me wider with a quiet authority that made every nerve light up. Then his mouth was on me—lips soft, stubble scraping in the most maddening way as he buried himself between my legs. His tongue moved with devastating precision, like he’d mapped me in his dreams, like he knew exactly where to press, exactly how to use his mouth to make me come undone.

My breath caught, my head falling back.

But the thoughts fought to stay. They always did.

He could be lying.

This could mean nothing to him.

You're just another body?—

He growled into me like he could hear it. Like he could taste every errant thought I didn’t want to feel.

His mouth didn’t stop. His grip didn’t falter.

But his voice—low and rough and vibrating against my core—dragged me back.

“Stop thinking.”

“I’m not?—”

“Yes, you are.” His tongue flicked against me, then slowed to a maddening tease. “You’re not here.”

“I am.”

“Then show me.”