Last Breath (Hitman #2)(69)
Author: Jessica Clare

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me,” I murmur against his hand. “You promised, Daniel.”

He doesn’t respond. Of course not. I press another kiss to the back of his hand, thinking. Then, I smile. “If this was a horror movie, you and I would both be dead, you know.” I pause, as if imagining his outraged response, then nod. “It’s true. Horror movies follow basic stereotypes, and those stereotypes always get picked off. One of the first ones to go is always the slutty blonde. Bad guys love a good, slutty blonde.” I imagine his laugh and smooth my fingers along his skin. “They usually die screaming and running through the woods, only to trip because they wore some ridiculous high heeled shoes. And you, of course, would be the cocky, arrogant asshole stereotype. Those die pretty fast, too. You’re far too competent, too good at what you do, too good looking. I think the movie writers make it their mission to take down guys like you.” I nip at his fingers idly. “Which is ironic because we both know you’d toast anyone or anything that tried to get past you, and you’d do it with a smile.”

“Who lives?”

My head jerks up at the softly worded question, my heart hammering in my chest.

Daniel’s eyes are mere slits in his face, but he’s smiling at me, and the hand in mine squeezes briefly. “Hey, fighter.”

“Hi,” I say, and my vision blurs and more tears stream down my cheeks. I’m so relieved. The doctors said he would be fine, but I don’t trust anyone’s words anymore. All I trust is Daniel.

He’s all I trust, and all I need.

“Hey, hey,” his voice is soft, and he tries to reach for my wet cheeks. “Why you crying, fighter?”

I shake my head, excusing my tears. “Just kinda emotional.”

He looks around the room, dazed. “Naomi?”

I freeze for a moment. I don’t want to tell him what happened. Not right now, not when I know he’d climb out of this bed, unhook his IVs and go after her. He needs to rest. “She’s out,” I hear myself saying and hope he’s not too angry about the lie later.

He nods and relaxes back in bed again, those sleepy eyes gazing at me. “You look tired, fighter.”

I shrug. I’m tired because I haven’t slept a wink since Daniel got shot. But that sounds needy, so I hold it back. “I’ll be fine.”

“How badly was I shot?”

“Once in the shoulder and once in the side. They say that you were lucky it didn’t pierce any organs.” I shudder, my breath catching on the words. “You should be fine in a few days. You lost a lot of blood.”

“Mmm.” His eyes are sliding shut again, and he looks exhausted.

I kiss the back of his hand again. “Sleep, Daniel. I’m not going anywhere.”

He slides his hand out of mine and pats the side of the bed. “Come curl up next to me. I’ll sleep better with your body against me.”

I shouldn’t. There are tubes and IVs and he’s fucking hurt, but I can’t resist. I crawl into the bed on his good side and hope he doesn’t notice that my feet are covered from the calf-down in puffy bandages with big white fluffy socks over them. But his eyes are closed, and when I slide in next to him, my butt leaning off the edge of the bed, he puts an arm around me and nuzzles against my neck.

“Mmm, you smell good,” he tells me.

“And you’re going to sleep, you horn dog,” I tell him in a prim voice.

He chuckles, but goes silent again. I snuggle close and listen to the sound of his breathing for long, sweet seconds of peace.

Then, after a moment, he says sleepily, “Who lives?”

“Hm?”

“In a horror movie. Who lives?”

“Oh.” I think for a moment. “The innocent girl. The virgin.”

He snorts as if this is ridiculous. “I’d take you over Daisy in a horror movie any day.”

I smile and slide in even closer. “Sleep.”

He does, and I sleep next to him.

Daniel

I’M PRETTY MUCH OUT OF it the first day, but by the second, the drugs that Mendoza’s doc has pumped into me are masking my pain, at least the pain in my shoulder—Regan’s sweet kisses and honeyed fingers are driving me crazy.

“Fighter, I need you to climb on top of me, right now.” The pain in my pants is going to kill me if I don’t get relief.

“Shut up, we’re not having sex.”

“How can you say that?” I whine. “I’m a wounded man. You need to render aid and suck on me.”

“Pretty sure that’s succor,” she says, but there’s a small smile running around the edges of her mouth. I’m thinking she could be talked into this.

“My dick is so hard right now that if you don’t cover it with your pussy, it’s going to break off. I don’t think you want to be responsible for that kind of damage.” My right arm is undamaged, so I use it to palm her sweet breast. The nipple firms up under my fingers, and Regan bites her lip. Yup, she’s convincible. I slip my hand around to her back and pull her down. She resists at first, but with a firm tug I have her mouth right against mine. “Pretend I’m Sleeping Beauty,” I whisper against her lips, and she’s laughing until I slide my tongue into her mouth.

She whimpers sweetly in response. I plunge my tongue inside her mouth like how I want to be fucking her hot little pussy. “Climb on top of me, fighter.” My one good hand grips her ass and pulls her on top of me, but her clothes are in the way of us feeling good.

Fortunately, she’s wearing a loose-fitting skirt which I wrench out the way. There’s a tearing sound, but I could care less. The thin blanket covering my lower half is kicked off, and then her hot cunt is sliding against my rock hard dick. The wetness slicks her path, and my body is engulfed in flames. I’m burning up with want for her. “Jesus, I need you on my dick right now.” Taking my aching cock in hand, I center it at her entrance, and she slides down slow.

I can’t take my eyes off our joined flesh.

When her hot, wet heat envelops me, I drop my head back and both her hands crash down on either side of my head. Her hips rise, and she pulls off me almost completely before gliding back down in slow, small torturous increments. It’s like she wants to kill me—but if this is how I go out, then glory fucking hallelujah.

My one hand grips her hip as I try to hurry her along, but she’s having none of it. “Sleeping Beauty,” she whispers, “if you want me to save you from villain Blue Balls, then you need to let me run this show.”