Page 42 of Lady and the Hitman
He didn’t wait for an answer.
“You’ll tremble. First in your thighs, then deeper.You’ll grab at the sheets. At me. You’ll say my name even if I haven’t given it to you yet.”
His lips grazed the shell of my ear.
“Your cunt will grip me like it’s starved. Like it’s been waiting your whole fucking life to be filled like that.”
I choked on a breath, the torte forgotten.
He wasn’t touching me. But it didn’t matter. The way he spoke—deliberate, composed, in that voice like velvet dragged over concrete—made my whole body throb with need.
“You’ll come more than once. I’ll make sure of it. You’ll come until you’re begging me to stop. And I won’t. Not until you forget your own name.”
I let out a small, helpless sound—barely audible, but he heard it.
He smiled, wicked and slow.
But I wasn’t going to let him have all the power.
I cleared my throat and shifted, crossing my legs again beneath the table, trying to will oxygen back into my brain.
“Okay,” I said, breath tight. “But what about you?”
His brows lifted slightly.
“What do you get out of this?” I asked. “Out of me?”
His gaze flicked to my lips. Then my eyes. “Everything.”
I stared at him, waiting for more.
He didn’t look away. Didn’t blink.
“You stood out,” he said simply. “Not because of your résumé. Not even because of the photo.”
I swallowed.
“You wrote things in your application that you didn’t realize you wrote,” he continued. “Little tells. Cracks. Longing you couldn’t quite scrub out. You tried to soundpolished, controlled, in charge. But there was this tension underneath it all. A hunger.”
He leaned in closer, resting his forearm on the table.
“You’re a woman with a sharp mind, a practiced image, and just enough restraint to pass for someone who’s never broken. But I knew.”
“Knew what?” I whispered.
“That you were waiting for someone to give you permission.”
My stomach dipped.
“To let go,” he added. “To be undone.”
“I didn’t think anyone noticed,” I said, so quietly it didn’t even feel like speaking.
“I did,” he said. “I notice everything about you.”
His voice lowered again, intimate and careful. “You’ve been playing a part for a long time, Zara. The good girl with the sharp mouth and smart takes. The overachiever. The savior. The watchdog.”
I blinked.
