Page 132 of Lady and the Hitman
The city watched, its lights glinting like eyes, and the thought of someone out there—someone with a camera—made my pulse race, but it only fueled my desire. I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, my bodygreedy for more. He groaned, his hands tightening, and then he pulled out, turning me to face him, his eyes burning with something primal, something possessive.
“Not done yet,” he said, lifting me onto the sofa again, this time laying me on my back, my legs draped over his shoulders. He knelt between my thighs, his mouth finding me once more, his tongue teasing me until I was writhing, my hands clutching the velvet beneath me. He didn’t stop until I was trembling, on the edge again, and then he rose, positioning himself above me, entering me in one smooth thrust that made me cry out.
This time, it was face-to-face, his eyes locked on mine, his hands pinning my wrists above my head. The sofa creaked under us, the fairy lights casting shadows across his face, and I felt exposed, vulnerable, but so utterly his.
His thrusts were deep, rhythmic, each one pushing me closer to another peak. “I’d give you the world,” he said, his voice raw, his lips brushing mine. “A house, a life, anything you dream. Just to see you smile.”
The words broke something in me, a dam I hadn’t known was there. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, my nails raking down his back as the pleasure built, sharp and overwhelming. “Ronan,” I gasped, my voice a plea, and he kissed me, swallowing my cries as I came again, my body shuddering beneath him, the city a blur beyond the glass.
He didn’t stop, shifting us again, pulling me to straddle his lap, my knees sinking into the velvet as he guided my hips. I rode him, slow at first, then faster, his hands on my waist, his eyes never leaving mine.
The risk of exposure made every movement electric, every touch a defiance of the world that wanted to tear us apart. His hands roamed my body, one slidingbetween us to tease me where we joined, his fingers slick and sure, and I shattered again, my head falling back, my moan lost to the wind.
His release came moments later, a low groan against my throat, his arms tightening around me as if he’d never let go. We stayed like that, our breaths mingling. He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, his touch tender now, reverent.
“If anyone saw,” he murmured, pulling back to meet my eyes, “I’ll handle it. No one touches you. No one hurts you.”
I nodded, my throat tight, my bag still lying on the sofa, the flash drive untouched. I wasn’t ready to face it—not when my body still hummed with him, not when my heart felt so full it might burst.
He wrapped me in his jacket, the fabric warm with his scent, and carried me to a plush lounger by the pool, settling me against his chest.
“I’ll build you a house,” he said softly, his fingers tracing circles on my arm. “Your dream house. Wherever you want. I’m serious. I’ll do it. Just tell me what makes you happy.”
“You,” I whispered, and it was the truest thing I’d ever said.
He kissed me again, slow and deep, and I knew I’d chosen him. Flash drive or not.
25
The rooftop terrace still thrummed with the heat of our encounter, the air heavy. Ronan held me against his chest, his jacket draped over my shoulders, his fingers tracing slow, possessive circles on my arm.
My skin tingled from his touch, from the way his mouth and hands had unraveled every defense I had left.
My bag lay nearby, discarded on the terrace floor, the flash drive inside it a cold weight I couldn’t face—not when his warmth consumed me, not when his promise to build my dream house still echoed in my mind.
The city sprawled beyond the glass, its lights glinting like secrets, and I wondered if someone had seen us, if a telephoto lens had captured the way I’d surrendered to him. The thought should’ve scared me, but it only stoked the fire still burning in my veins.
I was a political columnist. A professor. A woman who wrote about systems and scandals and the slow death of democracy. And yet here I was, slick with sweatand sex, legs still trembling from how thoroughly I’d been wrecked. By a man I barely knew. A man who made me feel more alive than I ever had with someone who checked all the “right” boxes.
It felt surreal. Like I was watching someone else’s life unfold. Some version of me that had finally stopped hiding behind careful choices and cautious words. A version that didn’t just want—but took.
Who had I become?
Ronan shifted, his lips brushing my temple, his breath warm against my skin. “Come with me,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through me. He stood, pulling me up with him, his hand firm around mine. My dress clung to my hips, disheveled from earlier, and I smoothed it down, my cheeks flushing as his dark eyes raked over me, hungry and unyielding.
He led me across the terrace, past the fairy lights woven through lush greenery, to the infinity pool that glowed under the starlight, its water shimmering like liquid glass.
The pool was a marvel, its edge blending seamlessly with the horizon, reflecting the city’s lights in a way that made it feel like we were suspended.
He stopped at the pool’s edge, turning to face me, his expression intense but unguarded. I wanted to touch him, but the flash drive in my bag tugged at my thoughts, a reminder of the truth I’d been avoiding all night.
“You’re still thinking about it,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet, low and rough like gravel wrapped in velvet. He stepped closer, his hands settling on my hips, grounding me. “The drive.”
I swallowed, my throat tight. “I can’t help it.”
He nodded, his eyes searching mine, steady butheavy with something unspoken. “Ask me, Zara. Whatever you want to know.”
My pulse raced, the question burning on my tongue. The flash drive held answers I wasn’t sure I could handle, but I needed something—some piece of him to hold onto before I faced it all. “What’s on it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What have you done?”
