Page 27 of Don't Trust Him

I mean, obviously with the mission. We have to fight on every front imaginable.

But you know regular fucking cozy office job workers would be a little awkward if they hate-fucked and had to show up in the same office the next day.

My basically sworn enemy just strangled my cock to perfection, milking out my cum so well I think angels sang. Maybe devils danced. Whatever. Point being, I have to deal with this mess with her. If it was hard to be around her before, fuck who knows what will happen in my head when I see Eliza tomorrow.

Part of me wants to go press her up against the shower wall and I realize.

Fuck it.

I follow her into the bathroom.

I catch her off guard, and she gasps. I press her up against the wall and I watch her thighs part more than a little in reaction.

“Eliza Lang,” I say slowly. “I know you’re not responsible for Taylor.” Yeah. That’s all I can manage. But for some fucking reason it matters to me that I tell her this.

She cocks her head to the side, wrapping her fingers around mine laced on her throat. “I’m not. It’s a warning,” Eliza says, looking off in the distance for a second, and then her eyes blaze back at me. “But it isn’t mine. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head and I want to look away, and I don’t want her to see the pain in my eyes. I can tell by how she’s looking at me, Eliza can tell this fucking hurt me.

“I know that he was the only person you had...other than Zario…” Eliza starts. She doesn’t say anything else.

Probably because I fucking freeze up at this moment. I can’t think about this shit right now.

I put her hand down to her pussy.

“You get nice and cleaned up, big day tomorrow,” I tell her.

She smiles at me, and God fucking help me, Eliza smiling at me actually makes me smile.

“Good night,” I tell her.

I leave her room like I’m not fucking running.

In my head, I am.

Because every part of me was screaming to stay.

Fourteen

Eliza

“Could you please pass the Glock?”

Grayson pushes the Glock across the table without even looking up at me, his icy silence almost too much to bear. Not that I can blame it all on him—I haven’t been exactly chatty today.

“Thank you,” I tell him in an icy tone.

I know, this is weird.

No, not the fact that I’m cleaning up a literal arsenal of weapons with one of the deadliest men in the drug trade.That’s kinda part of the job. What I’m talking about is the fact that we’ve barely spoken to each other after...you know, after that.

And yes, the italics refer to the hot sex Grayson and I had back at the motel. Hate-sex...as hot as it is, it always leaves a sour taste in one’s mouth. Especially when there’s a dead friend involved, and your boss was the one that put him out. Yeah, no wonder things are awkward.

“They’ll be here in five,” Grayson grunts, assembling the final rifle and putting a strap on it. Slinging it over his shoulder, he then packs the rest of the weapons on the large duffel bag we have at the center of the table.

“Got it,” is all I say, doing my best not to look at him.

“You won’t screw this up, will you?”

---