Page 45 of His Reluctant Savior

“How about me fucking you?” I teased.

He laughed. “That, too.”

I fingered his sweaty bangs back from his face. “It took me years to even fuck a man. But being horny won out, and eventually, I was okay, as long as I controlled the show and no one touched my ass.”

“Which makes a lot of sense. I don’t blame you. What you went through… I still can’t fathom the suffering.”

“It’s amazing how much control you regain when you kill your torturer. Killing has always only been a job for me. I rationalized away the reasons to justify the need to kill. Eventually, it became part of the business. But killing my uncle? That was pure pleasure.”

He said nothing, and I sighed, pulling him closer as if he’d suddenly up and leave with my admission. Dalton’s goodness wasstrong. He probably would’ve tried to imprison my uncle had the roles been reversed.

“Anyway, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to let a man touch or fuck me there. I tried once and freaked out, but that was fifteen years ago. I never tried again. Who knows, maybe things have changed.”

Dalton surprised me by kissing me softly before pulling away. “It hasn’t changed because you couldn’t let me even touch your ass cheeks with my hands. But that’s okay. I won’t ever touch you there without your consent. If that’s never, so be it.”

We lay there in the quiet of the room, and Dalton’s body soon sagged, and his breathing evened out, fingers twitching on my chest.

While he slept, the bad memories tried to sneak past my strong walls, but I had years of experience beating them back when I didn’t feel like facing them. Instead, I chose to think about my Boy Scout.

For the first time, I wanted something meaningful with a man. It was like I’d been waiting my entire life to face Dalton again and finally get my chance to have him. I never believed in fate and second chances until his file dropped into my lap. He came with the baggage of being a widower and a package from having a son, but could I handle that? I’d never been in a relationship, let alone been around children.

Maybe it was all moot. While Dalton allowed us to have this time together, that didn’t mean he wanted to be with me for good. When he got his life back, he would probably want nothing to do with me.

Was I okay withhim walking away?

Fuck no.

Not even a little.

That meant I needed to do whatever it took to keep him in my life. Going clean wouldn’t matter. I’d committed way too many crimes and killed too many people, and I couldn’t come back from that. I went into this knowing I’d go to hell when I died if there were such a thing.

I didn’t want to go legit. Could you see me working in some office with boring people who squabble about shitty office coffee? Hell no. It was too late for me to change my ‘career’ choice. I was in it way too deep.

What I needed to do was convince Dalton to put aside his morals for me.

But how?

I blinked my eyes open in the early morning to find Sid sleeping soundly next to me, and he was not a snorer. I stared at his handsome profile, trying to grasp how we got here, and ended up having sex after four days, running together. What was I getting myself into with him? If we lived through this, could I seriously consider getting involved with him?

Most of the killers I’d studied at Quantico were remorseless and had no empathy. Sometimes there was regret when passion was involved. But trained killers? There had to be a hardness andpushback on morals to do what they did. Yet, Sid had regrets and empathy, from what I could tell. Did that make him worse or better? I wasn’t sure.

What did that make me by having sex with an assassin? And so effortlessly. It wasn’t about him being a killer, but him being Sid Virgil, the hurt and angry boy I used to know.

I also needed to be realistic. That wasn’t just sex or a fuck last night. It was intense and passionate. It wouldn’t have been like that had we not had some deeper connection. The sex wasn’t just for a release but a combining of two souls… at least it felt that way to me. Then again, I’d always put more meaning behind sex than other men.

“You’re staring awfully hard,” he mumbled, his eyes still shut, the edges crinkling from his small smile. It was a reminder of how many years had passed between us… long enough to get some gray hairs and wrinkles, but still young enough to have amazing sex.

“I’m questioning my sanity about all this.”

“Yeah, you might be a little crazy… crazy for me.”

I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my smile.

“Seriously, are you regretting it?” he asked, turning his head toward me, his eyes now open.

“No, but I should be.”

His smirk was drowsy as he pulled me against him. I took a deep breath of his sleepiness. “See, you’re just crazy for me. I’m so irresistible that I’m driving you mad. It’s part of my charm.”

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