Page 11 of Stolen By the Hit Man

Chapter Eleven

Jasmyn

As I follow this man up the curved flight of hardwood stairs, my mind and my emotions are going in a hundred different directions. I’m happy to have my memories back. I’m so glad to be free.

“Here’s where you’ll sleep,” Joaquin says, his enormous boot nudging open the door to reveal a room that looks more like something out of a palace than what I think of when someone says “safe house.” Although I don’t know why I’m surprised after sitting in that kitchen.

The walls are made of thick honey-stained wood planks.

A stone accent wall houses a massive fireplace.

Along another wall is an oak bookshelf, built in beneath a row of high windows that overlook the secluded mountains.

A matching chest is nestled against the foot of the king-sized bed, and lush, ornate carpets soften the plank floors.

In the corner is a chair that triggers another memory.

My hand covers my mouth. “No way.”

“If you don’t like this room, I have others that are less rustic.”

“No, that’s not it. This…where did you get this?” I ask, going over to the chair and matching footstool in the corner. I move the blanket out of the way to reveal more of the design. All the little birds. I drew them myself.

“I don’t know. I didn’t pick any of it out,” he says.

I turn around and say, “I designed this pattern. This is one of mine.”

A wide smile spreads across his face. “No fucking way.”

“I’m serious! This is a J. Waters design. It’s one of my most popular orders. I use animals in almost all of my prints. It’s my favorite thing to do.”

“That’s a crazy coincidence. I don’t even know what to say. You’re ridiculously freaking talented,” he says.

I turn to Joaquin, unable to hide the emotions welling up. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone say that to me.”

He gives me a confused look. “You mean the first time since you got your memory back? Fuck that guy for the way he treated you. On top of kidnapping and everything else, I wish I’d?—”

I cut him off with a shake of my head. “No. No one ever. Not in my whole life. I told you how I made my own way in the world. I had to build myself up from nothing. I’ve never had anyone cheer me on. Not a mother, not a father. Nobody.”

He blinks at me, trying to wrap his head around what I’ve just said. “Shit, Jasmyn. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. But it feels good to have a cheerleader.”

He’s closer now, so close I can reach out and touch him. And I want to. I desperately, desperately want to.

“I ain’t your fucking cheerleader. I’m your champion.”

If I felt good before, it’s nothing compared to what it feels like to know that. Joaquin doesn’t seem like a guy to throw around words like “champion.”

I reach out and rest my hand on his forearm, noticing the solid arms that have held me still, helped me stand. The strong hands that snatched me away from my captors.

I slide my hand up to his bicep, feeling the soft flannel covering him there.

“Joaquin, I?—”

He leans in, and I catch the scent of his sweat just before his lips touch mine.

His mouth captures me while his hand cups the back of my neck. The sensual sweep of his lips over mine makes my head go fuzzy. His tongue licks over the seam of my lips, and I melt, surrendering to the kiss. I open to him.

He slips his tongue into my mouth, and I gasp at the pleasure of it. He tastes delicious with the faintest hint of the tequila we drank together.

His licking kiss sends heat down to my core. His long lashes rustling against my cheek makes my heart skip a beat.

The scrape of his scruff against my chin hurts a little. I shiver, and get over it.

When Joaquin finally pulls away, I’m breathless and dizzy and so turned on I can’t think straight. Which is fine by me. No more thinking.

No more confusion. No more questioning. No more headaches. I’m jumping in.

I can’t help it—I tremble as Joaquin wraps his arms around me, deepening the kiss. It’s been so long since I’ve been held. And it’s never been like this.

My hands travel over his hard trap muscles and down, fisting the front of his shirt. He groans and rests his forehead against mine.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you have to be so damn sexy?”

I laugh as my eyes dart downward to my dirty overalls. “I smell like farm animals and I’ve got pit stains, but whatever floats your boat…” I trail off as Joaquin’s hand slides inside the back of my overalls, hitching up my tee-shirt.

His lips are so close to mine I can feel his breath. “And what if I said that just makes me want to lick every inch of you clean?”

Heat surges through me. An embarrassing, babyish whimper comes out of me instead of words.

Joaquin kisses me again. Slower, deeper this time. I want him so badly I can’t see straight.

What if I’m not good at this? I’ve never cared before, because I never had emotions in the game. Nelly said it: I’m not ready for a man like Joaquin.

But I’m in too deep now.

I’m just going to buckle up and enjoy the ride while it lasts.

He has both his hands on the small of my back now, skin on skin. His sandpapery fingers deliciously roam over my lower spine. Teasing yet reassuring. Making me want more of him. All of him.

His hands move lower, resting just above my cheeks. The small caresses there trigger liquid heat between my legs.

Oh god, what if he’s huge?

Maybe that’s what Nelly meant? He has a great big dong, and it’s gonna hurt.

Maybe, as his roommate, she accidentally saw him naked when he didn’t realize she was home.

The jealousy at that scenario might make me insane, so I’m just going to pretend that’s not it.

His hands can’t go any lower, so I do the only thing my addled brain can think to do right now—unlatch my overalls and let them drop to the floor.