Last Breath (Hitman #2)(49)
Author: Jessica Clare

I roll off of him and my hands drag at his shoulders, trying to pull him over me. But Daniel sits up and gives me a wary look. “Regan, you sure—”

I nod. “Keep kissing me, okay? I’ll let you know if I freak out.”

“All right.” He shifts his weight, and then his chest is pressing against mine and his mouth covers mine again.

I can feel the old fear flickering in the back of my mind, and the urge to start counting off horror movies rises. But then Daniel’s tongue brushes against my own and pleasure returns. I make a small noise of protest when his mouth pulls away from mine, but he’s only pressing light kisses along my jaw, tickling me with their touch. And that’s all right, too. It’s tender and loving and nothing like the horrible experiences I’ve had in the past.

“You’re so beautiful, Regan. So fucking beautiful it drives me crazy.” His hands slide over my body, caressing me, and his leg moves between mine. His movements are slow and easy, clearly designed not to startle me, and I appreciate his thoughtfulness. It’s like he knows this is a huge moment for me and that I could go either way: either scared of sex forever or move on past my trauma.

I want to move on. More than that, I want to move on with him. I tilt my head back, exposing my neck for his mouth to move over, and it feels so good as he scrapes his teeth along my sensitive skin. I gasp when his mouth latches onto my earlobe, and he tongues it then lightly sucks on it. A moan rises from my throat and my nipples ache; my ears are really sensitive.

“You like that?” he murmurs into my ear as I cling to him. “You want my tongue sliding all over that sweet little ear of yours like I did your pussy?”

Daniel’s a dirty talker, and it’s a little crazy at how erotic I find it. For some reason, him describing what he wants to do to me is as effective as his touches on my body. I cling to him, burying my fingers in his short hair as he gives my earlobe the same treatment he gave my clit a short time ago—and it’s making me as crazy as that did.

“Can I touch your breasts, Regan?” One hand skims my side even as his mouth continues to make love to my earlobe. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

But I do want him to. It’s enough that he asked, and it’s enough that his mouth keeps nibbling and sucking on my earlobe to remind me that this is about making me feel good, not about taking from me. I press my hand to his free one and move it to my breast, giving him silent encouragement.

His groan of pleasure is in my ear. “You’ve got the sweetest little tits, Regan. I bet they’d fill up my mouth nicely. I bet those nipples are as juicy as your pussy. Are they?”

I gasp and nod, whimpering some sort of answer in my throat. Daniel’s relentless make-out assault is reminding me of the old days back before Mike and I started sleeping together, back when foreplay was fun and not thirty seconds of squeezing before Mike decided he wanted sex. Back when it was about me.

And I like it. I like it so much that when Daniel’s head slides down and he tongues my nipple, I moan his name aloud. “Oh God, Daniel.”

“That’s right, fighter baby,” he murmurs against the tip of my breast. “It’s all Daniel. And Daniel loves your body. I want to put my mouth all over it.” And he nips at the peak in his mouth, as if teasing me with what he wants to do. “Do you want that?”

“Yes,” I moan, clinging to him. When Daniel moves his attentions from my neck and ear down to my breasts, it’s as good as when he was tonguing my pussy. He lavishes attention on each one, brushing his fingers over my skin and teasing me, then devouring my nipples with hot, needy kisses and nips of his teeth. Just when I think I can’t stand it any longer, he moves over to my other breast and gives it the same attention, his fingers toying with the aching nipple he’s left behind.

By the time he comes up to kiss me again, I’m wild with need, panting his name, and my hips are rocking against him. I need to have sex with him. “Condom,” I whisper.

“Be right back.” He kisses me again for so long and so hard that it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to forget the condom and to get inside me, but then he rolls off the bed and jogs across the room to his pants. I rise up on my elbows, watching as he pulls out his wallet, removes a condom, and then carefully checks the expiration date. “Whew. Just in time.”

For some reason, this strikes me as funny. That a man as sexy and dangerous as Daniel would have a condom in his wallet for so long that it’s close to expiring. I stifle my giggles, but he hears them anyhow.

“Not what a guy wants to hear when he’s rolling on a sock, sweetheart,” Daniel tells me, ripping open the package.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to smother my laughter, but I can’t seem to help it. Daniel’s the last person in the world who would have a deflated ego.

He smooths the condom down his length and returns to the bed, careful to approach me in slow, steady motions. He eases his body down onto the bed next to me again, leans over, and cups the back of my neck as he begins to kiss me once more.

I respond to his kiss with a hungry one of my own, and soon we’re making out all over again and I’ve nearly forgotten about sex—except for the feel of his cock pressing against my hip and the aching need deep inside me.

A moment later, Daniel moves back on top of me and I part my legs, welcoming him between them. His weight settles there and he kisses me for a moment longer, then hitches one thigh up around his hips, moving me into position. Still, he kisses me, and still, it’s all right.

“You can back out, fighter baby,” he murmurs against my lips.

“It’s okay, I promise.” I want this.

He gives me a light kiss, and then his cock presses at the opening of my sex. Daniel pushes in, and I suck in a breath as a crowd of memories—and unpleasant faces—surges to the forefront. Oh shit. Oh shit.

But then he leans down and kisses me again, his hands smoothing my hair. He whispers soft, dirty things in my ear, and I remember it’s Daniel. My tense body relaxes under him, and I begin to return his kiss, slowly, hesitantly.

I can feel his body trembling with exerted control, his muscles tense as he hovers over me, not moving a muscle except to kiss my mouth. He’s not going to do anything until it’s clear I’m fine with this, and I stroke my fingers over his cheek, his shoulder, his arm, trying to let him know that it’s okay. That I’m okay.

“It’s fine, Daniel,” I whisper when he still doesn’t move.