Lance: A Hitman Romance (Santa Espera #2) (7 page)

Sandy reaches forward and squeezes her arms together, pushing her breasts out towards me. Normally I’d be hard as a rock at a move like that, and ready to fuck in two seconds. But I’m still unnerved by that comment from Jackson. And in the back of my mind, the image of Katie keeps swimming around, never quite going away.

“Actually, I’m sorry Sandy,” I force myself to say. “But you’re on your own tonight.”

“What?” Sandy says, standing back up and looking perplexed. “But … but you said earlier-”

Willy jumps in: “Gil gave Lance a job today,” he explains. “And Lance just needs all his concentration in him until it’s done. Isn’t that right, Lance?”

I look at my friend and give him a smile.
Actually, I haven’t told you yet, but I’ve already made up my mind about the job.

“That’s right,” I say, turning back to Sandy. “I’m just distracted. That’s all.”

Sandy looks crestfallen, and I feel kind of bad, but she nods and then goes back into the back room. And when she’s gone I pick up my glass and take another sip of bourbon. And as the harsh drink trickles its way down into my burning stomach I think of everything that’s happening right now … and everything that’s yet to happen.

Katie

“Just make a new appointment with Amin and I’ll see you next week.”

“I’ll do that. And thank you again, Doctor Simmons.”

I smile at Rupert as I close the door behind him. Turning around, I breathe out a sigh.
Last client of the day.
It’s been a long day, and I’m in desperate need of a shower. I know Amanda would complain that I smelled like BO if I didn’t shower before she came over.

Walking over to my chair, I rip the top two sheets off the notepad and take them to my desk, filing them away. Then I straighten everything up on my desk, getting it ready for tomorrow. When that’s all done, and after a quick look around to make sure the room looks good, I slip out of my high heels and into my flats and then grab my purse and leave.

Out in the foyer, Amin is typing away on his laptop. I turn my head and give the room a quick glance, only to find it empty.

Of course it’s empty,
I tell myself.
He surprised you once, but his appointment’s not for another two days.

“End of the day,” I say, turning back to Amin, and he looks up, giving me a smile.

“Yeah, it’s been a long one,” he says. “Got any plans for tonight?”

“Just Amanda coming over,” I say, and Amin nods. “How about you?”

“Nothing. All I want is just to kick back tonight with a glass of wine and some Netflix.”

“Did you ever end up talking to Chester?” I ask, and Amin’s smile falters.

“Yeah … I did,” he says. Taking a breath, “It turned out he and I had different opinions as to what constitutes a relationship. So, we split up.”

“Oh, Amin, I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, but he merely shrugs.

“It’s okay,” he says with a false smile. “You were right. Talking to him was the way to go. I’m just sorry he couldn’t have been more of a man about it.”

I nod. “Sometimes we try to hide behind what we think we’re supposed to be,” I tell him. “We find that we’re too scared to actually be ourselves.”

Amin nods. “I guess so.” And then, “Well, I should finish this up.”

“Right. Enjoy your evening, I’ll see you tomorrow, Amin.”

“Good night.”

He goes back to his laptop and I leave the office, walking down the hall to the elevator and taking it down to the main floor. Stepping outside, it feels good to once again be in the brilliant sunshine.

As I walk to my car I consider what Amanda and I are going to do for dinner. We usually order in, but what do I feel like having? Pizza? No, I’ve had that too many times this month. Chinese food? Maybe.

Getting in the car and starting it up, I pull out of the parking lot and onto the street, turning in the direction of my apartment. The roads are clear and I’m able to quickly make my way home. I pull into the lot beside my building and park my car, turning it off and getting out.

My body feels exhausted, but it’s a good kind of exhausted. I go to the front of the building and let myself in, then take the elevator up to the sixth floor. Stepping out I walk down the hallway and unlock my door, turning on the light as I step inside.

I’ve lived in this apartment for the past eight years. I needed to find a place when … well, when it was time to move out. It’s the first apartment I’ve ever lived in on my own, and even though it’s not the biggest or best place around, I still really like it. I got it when I was low on cash — before I really built my business up to what it is today.

Amanda bugs me from time to time about moving somewhere else, now that I have more money. Maybe putting a down payment on a house. But this place is who I am. It’s like a home to me, and besides, who do I have to impress? It’s not like anybody’s moving in with me any time soon, and even if they did they might just leave me again. At least one-bedroom apartments will never break your heart.

I slip out of my shoes and walk to the bedroom, tossing my purse on the couch on the way there. As I begin stripping off my clothes, I look to see if my spider plant needs any water. I moved it from the dresser to the windowsill and I think it’s making a big difference. Tossing my clothes in the hamper, but leaving my skirt and bra on the bed for tomorrow, I look at myself in the mirror for a moment before grabbing a towel from the closet and going to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

Turning on the light, I yank back the shower curtain and turn on the taps, pulling up the stopper to make the shower spray come on. Testing the water with my hand, I step in when it’s warm enough and close the curtain behind me, leaning towards the flood, letting the warm wetness wash away my fatigue.

I grab my loofah and body wash. My mind begins to wander. Not for the first time the image of that unexpected man floats up in front of me.

Lance.

I try not to judge people based on their appearances. But if we were talking about men with a perfect body, or men who project a veil of mystery, then Lance ranks number one on both accounts. Since I work mostly with war veterans and police officers, I’ve seen my fair share of older men who take care of themselves. But Lance is in a league of his own.

Tall, strong, dark and mysterious. He’s so confident all the time. So sure of himself. The only moment when I caught a glimpse of something else was at the end. There was a glimmer … a crack in his walls. After he left I looked over his sheet of notes and wasn’t surprised to see that I’d written hardly anything at all. Of course, half of our time was spent arguing. And yet, I feel like I’d connected more to him than to any of the other clients I see.

I shake my head and look down to see the loofah hidden beneath all the foam coating my hands. I quickly run it over my body and then hold it up to the spray, rinsing it off. After I hang it back on the tap I start turning, washing the soap off my body.

Of course, that connection did nothing to quell my annoyance with him. Us having slept together once before is no excuse. A grown man who’s cocky, arrogant, and who actively resists talking … basically a therapist’s nightmare. I know that Lance is hiding something. Something he doesn’t want me to see. I mean, the very fact that he insisted on being seen in the first place shows that at least part of him wants to talk.

The soap’s all rinsed off but I don’t feel like leaving the shower just yet. Turning the heat up a little more, I lower my face to the hot spray and let my mind wander some more.

Lance … I wrap my hands around myself, and as thoughts of Lance float through my mind I’m surprised to find that my body feels good. It feels good to be touched. He’s here in the shower with me, and I see Lance’s strong arms, his broad shoulders, his glowing blue eyes. He speaks and the deep, resonant sound of his voice sends a shiver down my spine. I’m looking up at him and he’s looking down at me. Looking into me.

His strong hands find my arms and I watch as he leans down, pressing his lips into mine. Water cascades over the both of us and I can feel him, smell him. His manly musk fills my senses.

One of his hands finds my breast and he squeezes, sending exquisite pleasure down throughout me. My nipples become hard and sensitive and it feels so good. We continue kissing and I feel his hand slide up and down, over my bare stomach, caressing my thighs. Down below I ache, and his hands finds my curls, sliding in farther, down until he’s touching the tenderest part of me.

I open my mouth to gasp and warm water tickles my lips. Lance and I continue kissing as his hand rubs over my pussy and clit, spreading my wetness, causing my clit to burn brightly with every stroke.

And the more he touches me, the more I realize that he’s hard. My heartbeat picks up and I feel nervous and scared. He wants me, and inside I want him too. I wrap my fingers around it and he feels so good and so warm and I lurch as a wave of pleasure washes over me.

We keep kissing, our hands holding one another. I slowly stroke him as he dips inside of me and I hear Lance moan, a low, deep rumble of a sound. His fingers stroke all of me and I gasp against his lips. Our bodies press together. He feels so good. The warm water rushes over us and he moans again, the sound just for me. Only for me.

As Lance’s fingers move faster I begin to rise up, hitching in breaths, my toes curling and my muscles clenching together. Inside my mind I see color and he gasps too, rising with me. His fingers move faster and I let out a soft cry, warm water tickling my lips again. Faster, and faster still, and when I reach my peak I cry out and come against him, and then I hear him too, unleashing a deep sound as we explode together.

Bright color fills me up. My heart is beating fast, and when I finally come down I open my eyes, the water cascading down over me. Taking my hand out from between my legs, I see a glistening web connect my fingers before I stick them under the spray to wash them off.

My heart is still racing. I swallow, trying to clear my head.

What did I just do? I masturbated to the thought of him!

Shaking my head, I rub my hands together to clean them off faster. I’ve never done that before to anybody I know, but perhaps that’s only because I’ve never felt the desire to. There’s something different about Lance. Something is happening to me. We hardly know each other, but already I feel like there’s something between us.

Are you serious? Is this really a good idea, having these kinds of thoughts?

Part of me deflates. That’s right. I shouldn’t be thinking this way. But I can’t get Lance out of my head. Is it that I’m attracted to him? Because that would severely compromise our future sessions together. And besides, what exactly am I attracted to? Certainly not his attitude.

And what about the type of work that he does? I haven’t even touched on that part of his life.

Do I really
want
someone like that in my life? If I kept him on I would be compromising the safety of my life, not to mention the safety of those around me. And for what? A little thrill? A little excitement? And what if things become more serious between us? Talk about a conflict of interest.

But if I decided I didn’t want to see him again, I’ll have to refer him to somebody else. And if I did that, then where will I be? I’ll be right back where I started. Right back to the life that I live every single day.

I shake my head. I can’t make this decision right now. I don’t have sufficient enough data, for one thing. We have another session in a couple of days, and hopefully I’ll be able to make a decision by then.

My shower’s done. I lean down and turn the water off, then pull back the curtain and step out, drying myself off with the towel. Wrapping it around my chest, I open the bathroom door and turn off the light before padding into my bedroom, where I slip on some pajama pants and a t-shirt. I hear my cell phone give a little jingle, letting me know I just got a text message. Slinging my towel over my open bedroom door, I walk into the living room and fish it out of my purse only to realize that it’s a quarter to seven. The message is from Amanda, telling me she’ll be over soon, and that she’s in the mood for Chinese and to go ahead and order some. I write back, telling her that I will, and walk into the kitchen, pulling the Chinese take-out menu off the fridge door and giving them a call.

Five minutes later, after I’ve ordered the food for delivery, I pull a wine glass out of the dish rack and pop the cork on a new bottle of red. Pouring myself a glass, I take it into the living room and plop down on the couch, sipping it as I wait for Amanda to arrive.

It’s not long before the door buzzer goes off, announcing Amanda’s arrival. I let her into the building and unlock my door, and a minute later she comes in, dropping off her bag before giving me a hug.

“Katie, hi,” Amanda says, slipping off her shoes. “Did you order the food? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, just ten minutes ago,” I say. “Want something to drink? I have some juice in the fridge.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

I go to get Amanda a glass of cranberry-pomegranate juice and come back to find her sitting on the couch. I hand her the drink and join her, picking up my wine and clinking our glasses together before we each take a sip.

“Oh my God, this day has been a nightmare,” Amanda moans. “I can’t wait until Tyler’s not nursing anymore. I would give anything just for a sip of that wine.”

“Mm, trust me, you’ll appreciate it that much more after waiting,” I say. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Absence also makes me have dreams where I’m swimming in a lake full of booze, so there’s that too.”

I chuckle as Amanda takes another sip of her drink.

“Doug’s been talking about cleaning out the office a bit,” she goes on. “He wants to know when you’re going to come by and take those filing boxes you have?”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” I say. “Do you really want them gone? I just don’t know where I’d fit them in here.”

“Well, I took a look through them and you’ve got some pretty important things in there. Like your passport, for one.”

“I know. But it’s just stuff I’m not using right now. But if you really want it out of there I can pick it up next week.”

“Thank you,” she says. “I know Doug would really appreciate it.”

We chat for a bit and soon enough the buzzer announces the arrival of our dinner. I buzz them up and we get some cash out of our wallets. As Amanda gets some plates and cutlery ready, I pay the delivery boy, and then bring the food over to the coffee table, ripping open the bag full of hot, greasy goodness.