Contract Killer

“Thank you, Gage.”

Her words had him stopping and turning to face her. “You’re welcome.”

And with that he left and shut the door slightly behind him, feeling his cock throb even harder.

She’s traumatized. Stop with the fucking thoughts.

If he ever came across those bastards again, he would make sure to kill each and every one of them slowly and without mercy. He went over and sat on the bed, resting his elbows on his thighs and hanging his head.

The sound of clothing ruffling in the other room had his pulse picking up. Against his better judgment, he turned and looked toward the bathroom. The door was only partially closed. He hadn’t shut it all the way because a part of him didn’t want her closed off, didn’t want her too far away from him, like he was fucking afraid she’d be taken once more.

He could see her bare shoulder as she slipped the gown off. This was wrong, watching her like a pervert, but fucking hell, he couldn’t stop. Forcing himself to look away, he scrubbed a hand over his face, felt the days’ worth of stubble and didn’t know how in the hell he was going to make it through the rest of the time with her.

As it was he wanted her under him, wanted his cock deep inside of her, and that made him feel like the sickest fucking bastard in the world

Neeka let herself sink into the bathtub, the water the perfect temperature. Her whole body ached, the cuts and scrapes on her legs, feet, and hands stinging, but in a good way that made her feel clean, like she was washing this nightmare away.

She looked to her side, seeing Gage through the crack in the door. The light from the lamp above the table shone on him. He was lying on the bed, his big body making the mattress seem tiny in comparison.

He’d saved her life, and for that she would be eternally grateful.

But there is something else you see in him … want.

She soaked for another fifteen minutes, letting her skin become like a prune, but still not feeling nearly clean enough to wash away the remnants of her time in Rye’s possession. After getting out of the water she grabbed the towel, realizing she didn’t have any clean clothes.

How could she go out there in nothing but a towel? Gage was an attractive man, and she didn’t know if it was because of the situation, or she was someone damaged, but looking at him had this desire coursing through her.

It’s misplaced. It has to be.

Standing and telling herself they were both adults, she left the bathroom, turning off the light on her way out. Keeping the towel securely around her body as she stepped out, the chill immediately consumed her.

He turned then, not rising, but locking gazes with her regardless. Even after her ordeal, she felt herself warming, her pussy becoming wet with arousal, and she knew this was wrong. He was here to help her get back home, and she had no right to feel anything like this. Had her time with Rye made her someone defective all of a sudden? Never had she felt an attraction so intense it rivaled everything else, but right now, with Gage, she felt that lust.

How I feel isn’t what this is about.

That might be true, but she couldn’t stop her emotions, and she knew what she felt for Gage wouldn’t just disappear.

I don’t understand how I know that, but it’s the truth. I know it deep inside of me.

Chapter

Fifteen

Gage slowly sat up, keeping his eyes on Neeka. The towel she wore wasn’t that concealing, and in fact he could make out her form through the thin fabric. Droplets of water dotted her flesh, and he lowered his gaze down the swells of her breasts and to her legs, which were clearly visible.

Lifting his gaze back up, he stopped on her breasts once more, feeling like an asshole for watching her. But Gage couldn’t stop looking at her, and as she moved further into the room she had her gaze trained right on him as well.

He could see her nipples poking through the too-thin material, and although he should turn his attention away, or hell, stand up and move away from her, he didn’t do either of those. His cock was rock hard, and standing would mean she’d get a prime shot of the fucker pressing against his fatigues.

Because her hair was wet from her bath, the strands were even darker against her alabaster skin. Water droplets fell from the ends of the locks, sliding down her chest and arms and making him grit his teeth, trying to control himself.

He heard her swallow and could see her pulse beating wildly at the base of her neck. He wanted nothing more than to make her realize he would never let anything harm her again.