Lace and Bullets: A Hitman Romance (14 page)

A
s Damien’s
tongue raked through her swollen folds, Mia arched off the bed. They did it. They stopped the Marcelo cartel, the ADA confessed to his crimes, and Mia and Damien were given full immunity.

No one could touch them. They would have new lives somewhere far away from Wellington and all the horror they had survived. Damien would be a free man. He wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder. Their baby wouldn’t just have a father, she would have a family.

A home.

Damien flicked his tongue across her clit and Mia cried out. He might be a cold and violent man when he needed to be, but with Mia he knew when to stop. With their daughter, he would be gentle. Kind. The best kind of man.

Mia reached between them and tugged at Damien’s arms. He crawled over her body with a question in his eyes.

She didn’t wait for him to ask it. Her lips landed on his and she raked her tongue across his flesh, tasting her own need all over his face. God, they were good together. She was soft where he was hard. When he demanded, she submitted. She needed, he gave.

Life could never get better than this. “I love you, Damien.”

“You said that already.”

“I’ll never stop.”

He kissed her again. “I don’t want you to. I love you, too.” His hand rested hot on her belly. “And I’ll love our child, so, so much.” Damien stroked her bare skin and Mia reached down for his belt.

“I want you, right now.”

“Are you sure it’s okay. I mean, I won’t…”

“You can’t hurt me. Anything we do is fine.”

Damien smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

Mia shoved his pants down and found his cock, hard and ready. “You should.”

She shimmied down the mattress until her lips lined up with his shaft. Planting soft kisses on the underside, she pushed at Damien’s hips until he rolled over.

With his cock standing tall, Mia opened wide.
Mmm
. She slid down his shaft, reveling in the heat and need she brought out in him.

Damien could be hard and cold when he needed to be, but with her, he let go. He wasn’t a hitman with a job to do. He was a man. A lover. The best thing to ever happen to her.

Mia flattened her tongue and took him deep, sliding up and down, faster and faster, until his spongy head hit the back of her throat. Yes. She’d never been this assertive and bold with a man before. Sex had always been so average.

But Damien brought out the inner Mia. The one who loved the taste of his cum as it beaded on his tip. The one who wanted his thick shaft filling her mouth and sliding down her throat.

The woman who would bear his child and be his wife.

She licked his shaft and Damien shuddered beneath her, reaching down to run his fingers through her hair. They had gone through hell to get to this point and she was never letting him go.

“Mia, baby…” Damien groaned, tightening his grip on her hair as she sucked him harder.
Yes. Come for me. Right now
. She reached down and cupped his balls, stroking and squeezing as he groaned louder.

With his fingers twisted in her hair and his cock deep inside her mouth, Damien came. She swallowed every release of his seed as it filled her mouth and he let her go.

“You’re incredible.”

“Guess I’m inspired.”

Damien laughed and pushed her back onto the mattress. He spread her legs and held them open. “Now it’s my turn, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

His lips landed hot on her sex and Mia moaned. His tongue thrust between her folds and struck her clit and she cried out.

She tried to pull him up, but he shook her off. “Don’t make me tie you up.”

Mia grinned. “Maybe I like it.”

Damien almost growled and dove back in, lapping and licking and sucking her clit so hard, Mia could barely breathe. An orgasm flew out of nowhere and exploded inside her before she could even gasp.

But Damien wasn’t done. He crawled over her as she spasmed. His cock nudged against her entrance.

As her eyes fluttered open, he claimed her. Balls-deep in a single thrust. Mia saw heaven.

No other man could give her what Damien could. One look into her eyes and he saw straight through to her soul. He knew where to linger, when to speed up, how to give her pleasure she’d never dreamed of.

She angled her hips and he inched deeper, drawing a moan from her lips.

Damien nestled between her thighs, pushing her legs wider as his weight rested on her hips. She wrapped her arms around him and he bent to kiss her, taking her lips like he’d taken her body.

Slow and deep, he pressed his body against her and she sighed in satisfaction. The heft and strength of him above her, inside her, all over her. It was everything she had needed and never had.

She broke their kiss to find his eyes wide open and watching her. “You won’t hurt me, Damien. I don’t want some, scared, timid man right now. I want you.”

He groaned above her and slid out, toying with her entrance before he slammed himself home. His arms bulged and bunched on either side of her head and his cock stretched her to the limit.

Damien was all over her and inside her and giving her everything she needed. Everything she thought she’d lost. He thrust again, ramming her body into the mattress and sending her higher.

She bucked against him and he picked up speed, propping himself up on his elbows as he pumped again and again. Mia clawed at his back, ran her hands up and down the straining muscles, and spurred him on with every thrust. She wanted him to unravel, lose himself inside her and come undone.

Grabbing his ass, she kneaded his firm muscles, reveling in the flex of his body as he filled her over and over. He bent down and took her nipple, drawing it into his mouth and sucking until she cried out from a mix of pleasure and pain.

How had she ever doubted this?

Damien kissed away her thoughts, stealing her breath as he pressed her harder into the mattress. Oh, God. As he thrust, his hands slipped behind her back. As he pulled back, he flipped them both over.

Mia lay across his chest, his shaft rock hard inside her.

“I want to watch you, Mia. Ride me until you come.”

She blinked. They’d never…She’d never… “Are you sure?”

“So sure.” Damien ran his hands up and down her thighs and Mia pulled herself upright. She straddled his hips and planted her hands on his chest. She rocked above him, grinding her clit against his firm body and sending a bolt of pleasure straight to her core.

Oh…This is…good.

She closed her eyes and groaned, overcome by another orgasm stirring inside her. As she picked up speed, Damien ran his hands up her sides, massaging her breasts and squeezing her nipples. She moaned and worked herself up and down, harder and harder as he thrust up into her from below.

The mattress squeaked and groaned in time with her body and it only sent her higher.

He wanted her to ride him? She damn well would. Up and down she worked her hips, gyrating on top of the man who showed her what passion and heat and pure fucking magic could be. His hips rose up to meet every thrust. Sweat beaded on her clean skin and trickled down her spine. It dripped between her breasts and slipped down her belly.

Damien groaned and dug his hands into her ass and Mia came apart. Her orgasm rolled through her like a wave of thunder, rumbling through her core and out her limbs, all the way to her fingers and toes.

Her muscles clamped down around Damien’s shaft and he let go. The rush of his release sent aftershocks of pleasure and bliss through her body.

Mia’s whole world spun, flashes of light and explosions of color ricocheted inside her head as joy tumbled through her. She was still flying, dizzy and discombobulated, when Damien rolled them both onto their sides.

His hands tugged her close and she nestled into his arms. “Please tell me we have this hotel room for a few days.”

He ran his fingers up and down her back. “That’s what the FBI said. We’ll be staying here until the marshals come up with somewhere else for us to go.”

Mia smiled against his chest. “Good.”

“Why are you so happy about it?”

“Because we’ve got a king-sized bed and room service. Just think of all the fun we can have with those.”

Damien laughed and the vibrations soaked into Mia’s skin. “I thought pregnant women needed to rest and take it easy.”

Mia pulled back with a grin. “I will be. Right here in this bed.” She ran her finger over the tattoo curving around his arm. She would never get sick of his body. His strength. The way his gray eyes said so much without his lips saying a word. “Besides, didn’t you know pregnancy hormones make women horny?”

“You’re lying.”

“Not lying.”

“Then you’re going to want to…”

“Have sex like rabbits.”

Damien smiled and wedged his hand between her legs. His fingers slipped between her slick folds, rocking back and forth until Mia moaned.

“Then I hope it takes the Marshals weeks to find us somewhere new. The more time I get to spend making you come the better. I have a whole life to atone for.”

“And giving me orgasms makes up for it?”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers. “It’s a start.”

M
ia heard
the little laugh from inside the kitchen and she smiled. Every time Damien tossed their little girl up in the air she giggled.

“Be careful, she just ate!” Her voice carried through the open doorway and another round of giggles followed it.

A moment later, little Melanie swooped in, flying in her daddy’s arms. Her chubby little hands clapped as she laughed again and her blue eyes sparkled. “Mo, Mo!” She clapped and wriggled, asking for Damien to toss her up in the air again.

All through the pregnancy, Damien had been the best husband a woman could ask for. He’d gotten up in the middle of the night to satisfy her crazy cravings and helped Mia make their nursery perfect for their little girl.

He’d been there when she went into labor and was the first to hold their daughter in his arms. When he’d asked to name her after his sister, Mia had cried. She couldn’t think of a better name.

He tossed Melanie up into the air again and she erupted in a fit of laughter.

Mia held up the knife she’d been using to chop apples. “If she throws up everywhere, you’re cleaning it up.”

Damien smiled at his daughter. “You hear that? Mommy didn’t say no.” He tossed his daughter in the air again and Mia shook her head.

It had been six months since Steven Willows had been convicted of murdering Damien’s sister. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole and Damien and Mia had been given new lives and jobs across the country.

In their tiny little house a few miles from the coast, they weren’t the DA’s daughter and the hitman for hire. They were just two people madly in love.

When Mia had dreamed of her future, she had seen this moment. A white picket fence, a good husband, a happy family. She’d never thought it would come true. Or that she would swim through hell to get it.

She fingered her mother’s pearls around her neck. After all these years, it felt right to wear them.

Mia was finally home.

B
ound
, blindfolded, and willing. That’s how I want her. When I caught her going through my things—black cord, cuffs, more—I almost took her right there. But I can’t. She’s off-limits. We might not have grown up together, but our parents are married. She might be my stepsister, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t walk away.

He’s everything I want—handsome, assertive, sexy as hell. The only catch? He’s my stepbrother. I should say no. Run as fast as my prim little feet can go. But I’m tired of being the good girl. I want it dirty and wicked. Tied and blindfolded and at his mercy. He’s the only man who can set me free.

J
essica slipped
her sweater off and stuffed it in her bag. Breaking a sweat after five minutes outside didn’t bode well for her shoot the next day. The makeup artists would hate her.

“So is it always this hot here?”

“Yeah. Welcome to Miami, sweetheart. It’s summer year round!”

She smiled at the cab driver in the mirror and turned to watch the palm trees flit by. It was a far cry from her chilly New York spring. Girls walked down the street in bikini tops and shorts, guys hung out on the corners in sunglasses and tank tops. She could see why Tate moved. All the sun, the party atmosphere and sexy people. What more could a DJ want?

The cabbie turned off Ocean Drive and wound his way through the Art Deco district, pulling up in front of a small, stuccoed walk-up with hand-crank windows and a tiled front entry. It was cute. Inviting. Qualities she’d never associated with her stepbrother.

After paying for the cab, she grabbed her duffle and headed up to the front door, scanning the buzzers for his name.

Tate Winston. Apartment 204.
Bzzzz
.

“What?”

Still charming apparently
. “It’s Jessica. Let me in.”

The front door unlocked and she yanked it open, squeezing herself through as it slammed shut behind her.
Damn
. Somebody needed to fix that.

She stomped up the stairs and made her way down the hall to 204.
It’s just a weekend. You can play nice for a few days. Even if he is a jerk.
With a deep breath, she reached out to knock, but the door swung open. To abs.

Seriously ripped abs that flexed into a washboard she could use all night long. And they wouldn’t even wreck her nails. A shot of heat flashed through her and she smiled as she looked up.

Oh my god
. “Tate?”

“Hey, Jessica. You’re early.”

“You’re not wearing a shirt.”

He snorted and stepped back, leaving the door open as he walked away. “Like I said, you’re early.”

He disappeared into his bedroom and came out a second later with a t-shirt in his hand. “So you gonna come in, or you just wanna stand in the hallway all day?”

As he pulled the shirt over his head, Jessica stole a final glimpse at his sculpted body and tried not to blush. Last time she’d seen Tate, he’d been a scrawny, gangly nineteen—gracing their parents’ wedding with a cameo before leaving for Miami.

He definitely didn’t qualify as man candy back then. But he sure as hell did now. Jessica gave him a small smile and stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind her. She needed to get it together.

“You…um…look good.”

“Yeah. So, you’re here for what, three days?”

She frowned and set her bag on the floor. His looks might have changed, but his attitude hadn’t. “Mmm-hmm. Thanks for letting me crash here. I tried to find a hotel, but everything I could afford down here was booked solid.”

“Whatever. All I’ve got is the couch. You can sleep there. I’ve got a gig tomorrow, so I’ll be home late, I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve got to make a call. Unpack or…something. There’s beer in the fridge.”

“O-kay.”

He walked into his bedroom and shut the door, leaving Jessica standing alone in the middle of his apartment. She didn’t know Tate very well, but from what her stepfather always said, she’d never gotten the impression he was this much of a jackass. Maybe he hadn’t had lunch.

She shook off his snarky attitude and looked around, taking in his sleek, modern furniture and framed art. The apartment looked so…grown-up. And a ton nicer than hers. She still had do-it-yourself furniture and a mattress on the floor. Only two years older and he outclassed her by a mile. Well, his apartment did at least. His attitude stunk.

She’d expected to find the old Tate—the quiet punk rocker with hair hiding his eyes, living in some sketchy walk-up in a transitional neighborhood. Instead, she got a twenty-five-year-old stud. With muscles for days and bright blue eyes that reminded her of the ocean down the street.

A hint of desire fluttered in her core and she crossed her arms in annoyance. She could not think of Tate that way. It didn’t matter that they never lived together. Or that they barely knew each other. He was her stepbrother. Her stepfather’s son. Someone she couldn’t have, no matter how sexy.

With a sigh, Jessica walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Beer and milk. And some questionable takeout containers.
Thank god
. At least she had something on him. Staring at his apartment had her feeling like a kid again and not in a good way.

Pulling out a beer, she twisted the top and took a drink. The shoot didn’t start until ten the next morning. And it’d be a shame to turn down his offer. It might be the only one she’d ever get.

T
ate paced back
and forth in his bedroom, running his hands through his hair and cursing. He knew she’d changed—he’d heard enough about her fucking modeling career from his dad to know that. But he didn’t know she’d turned into a damn bombshell.

Wavy reddish-brown hair framed her face, showing off sexy eyes so dark they blended into her pupils. And those lips. Shit, he got hard just watching her talk. He didn’t even want to think about her body. Trim curves, toned muscles. Just enough where it counted and none where it didn’t. He knew how hard it was to get a physique like that. He’d worked years for his.

Balling his hands into fists, he glanced up at the closed bedroom door. Three days. He just had to make through three days. If he kept up the asshole routine, she might even leave early and check into a hotel.

He never should have said yes to letting her stay. But he’d been curious. How could the snotty little teenager he remembered ever be a working model? He knew now. And regretted every bit of that knowledge.

But he couldn’t kick her out. Even if he had dirty, nasty thoughts about all the things he could do to her body. All the places he could make her go. He glanced at the four-poster bed and images of Jessica, spread eagle and moaning filled his head.
Shit
. He had to snap out of it.

With a deep breath, he shoved his raging attraction to the side and made up his mind. He’d go be nice for an hour and then come up with an excuse. Anything to get away from her.

Walking out of his bedroom, he didn’t see her at first and relief filled him. Had he taken so long she’d bailed?

He entered the kitchen and stumbled to a stop.
Aw, hell
. Jessica perched on his kitchen counter, swinging her legs back and forth like a schoolgirl while drinking a beer. Her skirt was so short, it rode up her thighs and almost gave everything away.
Jesus
.

“Thanks for the beer.”

“You’re welcome. Aren’t you cold sitting like that?”

“No, why?” She glanced down and back up with a frown.

He smirked and opened the fridge, bending over to pull out a beer for himself when he answered. “Cause granite can be pretty chilly, and it looks like your bare ass is sitting on it.”

He heard a thump and turned around to see her standing up, arms crossed. She was even hotter pissed off.

“You know, if you didn’t want me here, you should have said no. I’d have figured something out.”

“I thought you’d already tried everything and struck out?”

“I did.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Goody.” She brought her bottle to her lips and turned around, finishing it off as she looked out the window.

Shit
. He needed to rein it in. Being a dick to her wasn’t fair. Not entirely. “So, do famous models eat?”

She chortled and set her empty bottle on the counter. “Famous models? They probably stopped eating before they could ride a bike.”

“So…I guess that’s a no on having dinner with me?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels as she turned to face him. She raised an eyebrow and smiled, perking up her face and his dick.
Fuck
. He was in so much trouble.

“Lucky for you I’m not famous yet. Not even close.”

“Well, there’s a good place that delivers. You want Chinese?”

“I’d love it. Thanks.”

Tate pulled a menu from his kitchen drawer and handed it to Jessica. She read it over while he sipped his beer. Between her tongue that darted out now and then and her teeth that nibbled on her lower lip, Tate could almost feel her mouth wrapped around his cock.

It took all his self-control not to turn around and walk out of the room. But he owed it to her to try. He’d invited her over and even if it killed him to admit it, she was his stepsister. Family of sorts. He couldn’t kick her out, no matter how much he wanted to.

“It all looks great. How about you just order whatever’s good? I’m going to change.”

He rolled his eyes and took the menu back. She wanted him to be in charge? Fine. He’d order his usual.

Jessica disappeared with her bag into the bathroom and Tate called in the order. Now all he had to do was wait. And not think about his stepsister undressing a wall away. He chugged the rest of his beer and threw the bottle in the trash.

He was acting like he’d never seen a hot chick before. But he’d seen—and bedded—plenty. They just never stuck around longer than a night. Two at most. And they never sat on his counter drinking his beer like they owned the place. Or him.

God, if she weren’t off-limits, he’d have already made a move. Pinned her against the wall and seen how rough she liked it. Ropes, blindfolds, handcuffs? Would she go for what turned him on? A shiver ran down his spine and he turned toward the window.

He couldn’t think of her like that. It didn’t matter that they were thrown together as teenagers or that he’d bailed on their insta-family before it even began. Their parents were married. End of fucking story.

The doorbell rang and he shook his head. He seriously needed to get over the idea of them together. Kung Pao chicken would help.

A few minutes later and he’d heaped a plate so full of sticky rice and sauce-coated stir fry it threatened to spill onto the floor.

“Wow, hungry much?”

Tate turned around, bobbling the plate and nearly losing all of his dinner. Jessica had changed all right. Into an itty-bitty tank top and short shorts. “What are you wearing?”

“Pajamas, silly. The food smells great. I’m starving.”

She scooted past him, reaching for a plate and serving herself. He watched as she piled it up, heaps of rice and meat, veggies and sauce. No skimping for her.

“You’re really gonna eat all that?”

“Yeah. Of course. I said I’m starving.”

He shrugged and grabbed two forks, motioning for her to follow him into the living room. They sat on the couch and he gave her a tight smile as he passed a fork over. “Sorry I was such a dick earlier. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone over.”

“Rusty on your people skills, huh?” Jessica smirked and chomped on a mouthful of food. “Oh my god! This is delicious! You’re forgiven, Tate.”

He laughed and watched her shovel a few more forkfuls into her mouth before he started in on his plate. His stepsister was full of surprises.

A
wesome food
, an actual laugh, normal social behavior. Jessica wondered if Tate had an identical twin and was playing a practical joke. She couldn’t get a read on him to save her life. Why was he cold one minute—practically telling her to get lost—and hot the next?

She shook her head and took another bite. God, the food was good. It helped that all she’d had to eat that day was coffee and a stale granola bar. And the beer which had gone straight to her head.

She’d had to excuse herself to change to keep from embarrassing herself with a tipsy cackle. “So, tell me, what’s Miami like?”

Tate snorted and finished chewing. “Hot. A little wild. Good place to DJ—there’s always a party.”

“Lots of girls, I take it.”

“There’s a few.”

“Any caught your eye?”

Tate looked up and she regretted snooping. The easy-going guy who’d relaxed into the couch disappeared. “No.”

“Not even one?”

“No.”

Great. I’ve made him monosyllabic.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Forget I said anything.”

She dug back into the food, chasing stray grains of rice around her plate.

“How about you? What’s your boyfriend like?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Not a single one?”

This time, it was her turn to glare. “No. If you must know, I haven’t had much luck in that department.”

“Why the hell not? You’re gorgeous. Smart. Funny. Seems like a no-brainer.”

Jessica blinked and tried not to gawk. Tate had just complimented her…three times in a row.
Wow
. “Um…well…I…” She trailed off, unsure how to even begin.

As he sat there watching her, she frowned.
Wait. How did this all end up about me?
She’d been trying to find out about him—the cagey stepbrother she knew so little about—and instead there she was dodging his questions.

The thought of answering him—telling Tate the truth about her failed romances and the men who couldn’t satisfy her—it sent a shiver down her spine. Part of her wanted him to know. And to do something about it.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

She folded and refolded the napkin in her lap, avoiding his stare as she replied. “I haven’t found anyone I connect with.”

“That’s a bullshit answer if I ever heard one.”

Jessica snapped her head up and glowered. “Oh yeah? Well, it’s a hell of a lot better than just saying no.”

“At least I was being honest.”

“You think I’m not being honest? And what do you base that judgment on, huh? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I don’t need to know you to see that you’re holding back.”

A flush kept up her neck and Jessica bit her lip as she tore her gaze away. “Maybe I am. It’s not like you’re not.” She looked up at him and batted her lashes. “You want to know why I can’t find a boyfriend? Then you spill first. What’s keeping you single?”

Tate set his plate on the coffee table and ran his hand through his hair. The muscles in his arm flexed and his shirt stretched across his chest.
Damn. Focus, Jessica
.