Page 15 of The Hitman's Forbidden Obsession

“Dante,” I say, gasping his name.

“Mine,” he growls.

His mouth covers mine, his tongue plunging between my lips, his cock jerking inside me, filling me.

When his release is finally over, he collapses beside me, gathering me in his arms. He rolls, putting me on top of him, and I settle against his chest, my head on his shoulder.

We lie like that, neither of us speaking. His hands are in my hair, and I can feel the beat of his heart under my cheek.

“I’ve got you, angel,” he murmurs, stroking my hair. “Forever. I’ll always take care of you and keep you safe.”

A small smile tugs at my lips, and I snuggle closer, letting the steady beat of his heart lull me to sleep.

Chapter Six

Dante

The library is quiet.

Late afternoon sun filters through the tall windows, gilding everything it touches in soft gold. Dust hangs suspended in the air like time itself has slowed down. I’m sitting in one of the heavy leather chairs tucked into a corner, doing nothing but watching her.

Avery.

She’s shelving books a few aisles over, not even aware of the absolute destruction she’s causing just by existing in my line of sight. Her hair’s tied up, loose strands curling against her cheek. She keeps tucking one behind her ear, and every time she does it, my blood gets hotter. I’m not even sure I’ve blinked in the last five minutes.

God, she looks good in that damn pencil skirt. And even better when she bends over to put a book on the bottom shelf. I swear she turns her back to me purposely every time she does it, showing off the delicious round curves of her ass. Shemight have been innocent when I first met her, but she’s quickly turning into a little temptress.

And when it comes to my angel, I’m all too happy to be led into temptation.

It’s been three days since she first came home with me. Three days of her in my bed, in my kitchen, in my space, soft and sweet and mine. She hasn’t gone back to her house once, and I haven’t let her out of my sight. I’ve spent every minute either touching her or aching to. I’m in too deep and I know it. But knowing doesn’t stop the need.

And it sure as hell doesn’t ease the guilt chewing its way through my chest.

She doesn’t know I’ve been lying to her every minute we’ve spent together. Doesn’t know the woman who married her father is trying to put her in the ground.

And I haven’t done a damn thing to stop it… because I can’t stop touching her long enough to think.

It should’ve been handled already. I should’ve gone to Victoria’s house the day after Avery unofficially moved in with me and made sure she never so much as breathed in Avery’s direction again. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t want to break the spell.

Because I’m selfish.

Because every time Avery looks at me with that wide, trusting smile, I feel like maybe I can be someone better. Like I can be the kind of man she deserves. If only for a little while longer.

But it’s running out. That grace period. The peace. Eventually, I’m going to have to deal with the woman who paid me to murder the girl currently humming while she alphabetizes the romance section.

Avery glances up just then and catches me watching. Her face lights up like it always does when she sees me, and she gives alittle wave like we’re two teenagers at school instead of what we are... whatever the hell that is. Dangerous. Fragile. Collapsing.

And just like that, guilt slides sideways into something darker. Something hungrier. I shift in the chair, jaw clenched tight. I’ve been sitting here for hours just watching her move, and it’s killing me. The way she walks. The way she talks to people. The way she looks at me like I’m the hero in this story and not the loaded gun she’s unknowingly sleeping beside every night.

I want to get her out of here. Take her home. Bend her over the first surface I see and remind her that she belongs to me. That she chose me.

And God help me, I’ll do it. Just as soon as the clock hits five.

The minutes crawl.

I spend them watching the tiny hand on the wall clock and pretending I’m not imagining Avery spread out across my bed again, gasping my name. Every passing second makes it worse. Every soft smile she throws my way across the room sinks its claws in deeper. She bites her lip as she shelves the last few books, and it’s pure agony. I’m seconds away from dragging her out the door like a caveman.

Finally, the clock ticks to five.

---