Page 44 of Assassin: Part 1

Any stupid fantasy running in my head dies. The audacity of this woman …

“Why the hell are you here? And are you ever going to give me your fucking name? Calling you crazy bitch in my head is getting old.”

“I thought it was lisichka?” she mocks, unfazed at my annoyance. “And I thought we went over how rude it is to name-call?”

Jesus Christ, she’s doing my head in. And still, no name.

“I’m about to call you a dead woman if you don’t start fucking talking,” I snap.

“Yeesh, I’ll keep in mind that you’re cranky when you don’t get enough sleep. Or is that the almost-being-blown-up-by-a-bomb talking? Which I’m still pissed about, by the way.” The smile drops and the cold, icy stare is back. “Your men are useless, Ilya. They knew about those fucking small crates and left them there until you got there. They didn’t fucking check to ensure it wasn’t a threat.”

The pieces finally click in place. “You shot that slimeball, didn’t you? It wasn’t my men.”

She snorts. “Your men are slow. Not a single sniper had a clear shot. They allowed those assholes to get near you too. I almost put bullets in their heads to prove my point, but I figured you might take that as the cartel and didn’t want to fuck up the deal before you got things sorted.” She beams. “See? I think things through. Unlike some of the other people you associate yourself with.”

The mood swings of this woman are going to give me whiplash.

I shake my head, trying to keep on topic. “Why were you there in the first place? Is my brother right that you’re just a stalker that has a penchant for the serial killing of pedophiles?”

She sighs. “Men really don’t listen. I already told you. Your men are lazy, and I wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Are you that blind to what’s right in front of your face?”

“In front of my face is an annoying as hell blonde stalker that won’t answer my fucking questions.” I scowl. “There is nothing wrong with my men. And they were told to leave those cases until I got there. Following my orders.”

“Then I’m not surprised they’re lazy if you allow it so blatantly. But don’t worry, I’m already tracking down who got the bomb in there and how.”

“No. Absolutely fucking not. Stay the hell out of my business.”

“’Fraid I can’t, pet. Wheels are in motion, no way to stop them now. And you haven’t yet thanked me for saving your life either.” She pouts. “It’s very rude, you know.”

I’m clearly losing my mind. Why the hell am I sitting here arguing with this woman when I should be tackling her, calling for my men, and locking her ass up?

My expression must give away my thoughts, because the pout disappears, and an anticipatory grin takes its place. Who am I to disappoint her?

I launch myself at her, and she lets out a delighted laugh, allowing me to tackle her back to the bed, but she uses my momentum to flip and roll us until we’re perilously close to the edge, her on top of me, and my hands gripping her wrists as my head dangles off the side.

The feel of her center against me has my cock hardening, and I grit my teeth, refusing to be distracted. Not even when the blue of her eyes glitters with primal desire and she grinds down against me. Desire shoots quick and sharp, and I hiss.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed your cock, pet,” she rasps. The heat of her is unmistakable, even through the fabric of her clothes and my thin boxers. “I’ve been fucking myself with my own fingers because no toy satisfies me the way you did.”

Fuck.

No, I cannot let her distract me.

I shove her back, releasing her wrists and bucking her off me. She laughs again, falling back on the bed without much of a fight. I roll, pinning her, and wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing enough to cut off her air. Her gasp is ragged, her pupils dilate, and she stares up at me, face flushed from desire and lack of air.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” I say, voice low. She doesn’t fight me, doesn’t try to stop me. “How much I’ve wanted to make you pay for the way you left me last time.” I relax my grip, letting her get in a little air. I don’t want her to pass out on me yet.

Her lips curl. “I knew you were missing me. Have you been jerking off to the thought of me? Wishing it was my cunt squeezing this cock again instead of your hand?” I hiss when her hand snakes between us, cupping me and squeezing just hard enough to make it uncomfortable but not painful. My grip on her throat tightens. “Fuck, that makes me so wet,” she gasps, and the crazy woman drives her neck tighter into my grip, her hand tightening over me.

I release her, but she doesn’t do the same. “You’re not going to distract me,” I warn, desire sharp in my gut.

“Of course not.” Her other hand twists my nipple, making me grunt and squeeze her throat in warning. “But I certainly don’t mind this kind of distraction. Tell me, pet, tell me you didn’t miss me. Tell me you didn’t dream about the way you slid so nicely inside me, and maybe I’ll let you win this time.”

Win? What the hell is she talking about, winning? She might have her hands on my cock, but she’s not in charge here. I tighten my grip even more, cutting off her air, my threat clear. She never loses her smile.

I lower my head, staring at her. Her mouth and throat work, trying desperately to get in air, but her eyes are direct, unpanicked. “The only winner here is me, lisichka. You are at my mercy, and this time, you won’t be leaving until I’m good and ready. I’ll have your name and every other detail I want to know about you. And finally, I’m going to have you again, because we both know you’re the one with the obsession.”

I relax my hand, letting her take a big gulp of air into her lungs before cutting it off once more.