How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Sam Mariano Page 0,80
eyes narrow at me when she realizes I pinned her there on purpose. “Get off me.”
“I can’t sleep,” I tell her.
“Have you even tried?” She sits up a little and takes a whiff of me. “You’ve been drinking.”
“I have,” I verify.
“Perfect. You’re supposed to drive us back to Chicago in just a few hours.”
I ignore her comment. I don’t like it. I don’t like her tone, the way she uses irritation as a shield to try and make it seem like she doesn’t have fondness for me anymore.
“Don’t speak to me that way.”
Her eyes widen, a flash of white hot anger momentarily piercing her cloudy detachment. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not Brady or any of those other guys you fucked with. You can’t dismiss me like that.”
“I can do whatever I want,” she informs me, eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m not yours, remember?”
I know it’s not a challenge, but it feels like one. I know she’s mad and hurt, I even know she has a right to be, but I’m so used to sweetness from those lips… I really fucking hate the venom.
I grab her jaw without thought.
Autumn gasps, her eyes widening. A flash of caution crosses her features, softening her eyes and everything else.
God, she’s so fucking pretty when she’s a little bit afraid.
I’d never hurt her, not really, but she looks up at me now like she doesn’t know that. Like all the words I’ve said to her don’t mean shit because of the ones I said tonight.
We stare at each other for a few seconds, then I swoop down and crash my lips against hers.
Autumn gasps against my mouth, trying to crawl back away from me. I don’t expect that. I expect her to kiss me back. I expect her to melt in my arms like she always does.
Why isn’t she melting?
It takes me a minute to adjust to my new position in her life, and I don’t fucking like that at all.
I’m not yours, she said.
Wrong.
She is mine. She always will be. Maybe I can’t keep her, and maybe that pisses her off, but it doesn’t change how I feel about her. It doesn’t mean I want her any less.
I know she still wants me too, she’s just mad right now.
She’s so mad she kicks at me, trying her best to unseat me.
So mad she fights back when I grab the hem of her T-shirt and start pulling it off her body.
So fucking mad when I roll her over on her stomach, writhing and fighting me every step of the way, and pin her little ass to the mattress.
I’m on top of her now. She’s trapped beneath me in just her panties, tummy down on the bed. She’s so mad she’d probably hit me if she could. She huffs, trying to rear back and shove me off her.
“What the hell, Jasper?”
I press down on her back, flattening her against the bed and lowering myself on top of her. She still tries to throw me off, but it’s easy to deflect her sorry attempts.
“I’m gonna have to teach you how to fight, snowflake. This isn’t gonna cut it. Suppose you really did want to get me off you—this isn’t the way to do it.”
“I do really want to get you off me,” she says, twisting uselessly.
I shake my head. “Nah. I’ve fought people genuinely trying to get free. This isn’t what it feels like.”
Autumn sighs like I’ve just said the most exasperating thing in the world. “You can’t compare my strength to that of full-grown men fighting for their lives, Jasper.”
I smile at how she says that—exasperated, sure, but still understanding of my fucked-up barometer. It feels more like it felt between us before, when she’d comment about all the twisted things I do for work like it was normal. It makes me wanna kiss her.
I slide my hand around to the front of her neck, pulling her back gently so I can lean in and kiss the side of her face. I’m careful with her, reminding myself through the fog of alcohol to make sure I don’t hurt her. Typically, when I’m fighting someone, I don’t care if they come to harm.
Typically I’m not kissing them, either.
Autumn turns her face away, still full of attitude, but I’m not having it. I remain gentle but firm as I pull her face back in my direction, holding her where I can reach her lips so I can lean down and kiss her.
Like a brat, she seals her lips together and refuses