Page 17 of The Killer's Payment

Or that the thought of never seeing him again makes a tight iron band tighten around my chest—squeezing so hard that it feels as if my ribs will break.

Taking a deep breath, I carry my coffee into the kitchen. James is standing at the stove, his focus on transferring a fluffy omelet from a pan to a plate.

He turns toward me as I enter the room. “I figured you’d be hungry since you missed both breakfast and—what’s wrong, little one?”

For a moment, I stand there frozen, thrown by his sudden change of mood. First, he’s hurrying me out the door, but now he wants to pause and play house?

Shaking my head, I force myself to go ahead with the speech I’ve mentally rehearsed before I lose my nerve. “Look. I know that you must be used to more…experiencedwomen…”

“Other women?” he says, letting out a singular laugh. “Sutton, other women don’t even fucking feature. Do you hear me?” Setting the plate on the counter, he closes the distance between us and lifts my chin up, forcing me to look into those hard green eyes. “Other women aren’t you.”

I stare up at him, even more confused than I was before. “There’s nothing special about me. I don’t… I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Bending down, he brushes his lips against mine. “And the fact you don’t understand why that’s a good thing is the exact reason why I’m keeping you.”

Eight

James

God,with her lips this close, it’s all I can do not to lift Sutton up onto the counter, peel off that lacy blue thong, and lose myself between her legs. Somehow, shestillsmells like peaches despite having now used my toiletries twice and I can’t explain it—other than to conclude that this scent is somehow inescapablyher.

A scent I’ve become hopelessly addicted to in less than a day. What this little girl has done to me is unreal. Yesterday morning I didn’t know she existed. But tonight?

Not tasting her is torture. Not being inside her tight, sweet pussy physically fucking hurts.

But even if she weren’t still likely sore, we don’t have time for me to indulge those desires—as tempted as I am. Still, denying them is sheer hell. The moment she walked into the room my cock filled with lead. It still hasn’t gotten the memo that breakfast is what’s on the menu—not Sutton.

Grabbing the plate from the counter, I steer her over to the table. “Eat, princess.”

Wordlessly, she sits down. But instead of picking up her fork, she shakes her head. “No.”

“Sutton.”

This fucking girl. Can’t she see how close to snapping I am? I need to get her out of here before she drives me to distraction and all my plans go to hell.

She tilts her chin up, defiant. “That’s my name. But I don’t know what it even means coming from you.”

Ah, so we’re still playing her little game. I thought once I fucked her, we could dispense with all that. But if my angel insists on continuing to play…

“Your name, yes. One word, two syllables,Sutton,” I say, drawing the word out as I take the chair next to hers, pulling it closer, invading her space. “It could mean oh so many things. I want you. I need you. You complete me. You destroy me. I love you. You drive me fucking crazy, and you’re mine. But right now, it’s awarning, angel. We don’t have time for this shit. Now eat your breakfastlike a good little girl, so we can get the fuck out the door.”

She stares at me, still making no move to comply. Grabbing her hand, I pick up the fork and mold her fingers around the cool metal. But still, she just clutches the utensil, staring at me with those wide, serious eyes that seemed to contain the entire world when I fucked her but right now are completely inscrutable.

“Which part of that was unclear?” I demand, my frustration growing.

“The part where you said you could love me…” she replies, voice soft.

“There’s no fuckingcouldabout it, doll. I love you. Now eat your goddamn eggs.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t think men like you loved anything except money and power.”

I try to decipher her expression and fail. Yet her statement is damning enough on its own. Damning but not surprising.

A knot forms in my gut—but I’ll be fucked before I let her see how deeply her words cut.

“Right. You got me. I’m completely fucking mercenary. That’s why while you were sleeping I gave O’Rourke two options for repaying his debt. Hand over your passport and possessions and call it even—or his life.” Raking my eyes over her body, taking in the dress and where it hugs her curves, I school my features to mask the fear gnawing at my insides as I toss her passport onto the table. “I debated just popping the bastard, but killing your father felt like a poor way of persuading you that I can change.”

She frowns. “What if I don’t want you to change?”

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