How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Sam Mariano Page 0,96
scared the crap out of me,” I scold, shooting him a dirty look.
“Sorry about that. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see how you’d handle it when you weren’t sure it was me.”
I smack him on the arm. “You could’ve given me a heart attack.”
“Nah, I’d never do that.”
There’s something so light and peaceful about the way he’s looking at me, I can’t seem to hold onto my annoyance.
Not to mention, I’m just so happy to see him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Is everything okay?”
He nods. “I missed you.”
My heart softens. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“I wanted to see you,” he says simply.
Smiling softly, I reach up to touch his hand, even though it’s encased in that leather glove. “You came all this way just to see me?”
“Well… not just to see you.”
My heart skips a beat as he leans down slowly and presses his lips against mine.
The burst of arousal that breaks open inside of me is immediate. My head knows that I should kick him out of my room, move this conversation somewhere safe, like my living room. I envision doing the smart thing, making him get out of here, putting on a robe so less of my skin is exposed…
My heart has different ideas. After thinking I’d never see him again, I’m so relieved that he’s here, I wrap my arms around him. When he shifts positions and climbs on top of me, I spread my legs and wrap them around him.
Jasper trails his hand along the inside of my thigh, then he cups my pussy in his hand. I gasp, arching off the bed. My panties provide a scant barrier, but if he says the word, I’ll rip them right off.
“Mm, I’ve missed you,” he says, palming my breast with his other hand and burying his face in my neck so he can kiss me. “How much have you missed me?”
“So much,” I say breathlessly, peppering everything I can reach with my kisses.
“Yeah?” he says leadingly. “You wanna show me?”
I do. I do wanna show him.
I nod and he moves over to the empty side of my bed so he can lie down.
Only, as soon as he does, he spots the crumpled up white T-shirt.
A man’s T-shirt.
He picks it up. His tone hardens. “What the fuck is this?”
“A… a shirt,” I say lamely, since that much is obvious.
He scowls, holding it up so he can look at it.
The shirt is wrinkled as all hell, and it is dark in my bedroom with only the moonlight streaming in the window, but he can see the shirt well enough to ascertain I am not its original owner.
I figured he would realize the shirt was his immediately, but he doesn’t seem to have registered that fact.
All of a sudden he sits up, sexy time forgotten. “Have you had another man in this bed?”
“I—” I pause, unsure how to answer that. Of course I haven’t slept with anyone else since Jasper—I’m not even over him yet. But the way he frames it is like he has been in this bed before, which he obviously hasn’t. His phrasing throws me a little, and he seems to misunderstand why.
No longer content to lie there and let me show him how much I’ve missed him, he’s up on his knees, prowling toward me.
My heart skitters, even though I’m not really afraid of him. It reminds me of that first night in the motel room, but now my feelings are so twisted around him, desire mingles with the wariness as I crawl back away from him.
A tiny scream of surprise erupts when he grabs me and throws me down, pinning me beneath his weight and climbing on top of me.
“Have you been a bad girl, Autumn? Have you been letting someone who isn’t me play with this sweet little pussy?”
My heart sinks down into my stomach as he cups me between the thighs again, this time far more aggressively.
“No,” I say, shaking my head vehemently. I’m too forceful though, it sounds like a lie. “I haven’t, I—”
Jasper pushes a gloved finger into me, sinking it deep without preamble. I shift my hips, trying to accommodate the intrusion.
“Who?” he demands. “I’m warning you now, you better not say Brady.”
“Ew,” I say, my face twisting with disgust. I can’t believe he would even suggest that.
My reaction makes him smile a little, but not for long. He’s still mad as hell about my imaginary lover, so he startles me, shoving the T-shirt into my face like