Page 48 of Hannah and the Hitman

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the smirk playing around her full lips.

Fuck me, she was going to kill me. And not from blue balls.

I snatched the scrap of cotton from her and tucked them in my suit coat pocket–after I sniffed them. Best scent in the world. Then I focused on the road. And floored it.

32

HANNAH

Jack parked in his building’s underground garage. He came around and helped me out of the very fancy SUV and, after retrieving my overnight bag from my own car, led me to the elevator.

Beneath the hem of my dress, I was bare. Going commando made it… airy. I only hoped I didn’t have a wet spot on the back of my dress.

This was all blatant foreplay. Going bare for him. Him knowing I was bare. That my panties were in his pocket. It was an intimacy I never had with anyone before. And it was hot. Sexy, even. Ifeltsexy.

The elevator doors opened, and he led me in with a hand on the small of my back. As the car rose, he set the to-go bag of food and my overnight bag on the floor and pressed the stop button on the control panel.

Then he turned to me.

“Um, Jack–”

“I’ve got to taste you.”

Taste me? Like the book. Oh my God. I was bare because he wanted totasteme in a stopped elevator car.

I looked around. Obviously, we were alone. The walls had wood paneling and there was a hip-height brass railing. Fancy, like his car. But I’d seen enough TV shows to know that the more posh the place, the more cameras. Everywhere. The thrill of possibly being caught wasn’t the same as being recorded.

He dropped to his knees before me. I was now taller, and I set my hands on his shoulders. His gaze was heated, almost burning. His cheeks were ruddy and there was a wildness about him. His hands slid slowly up my calves, then higher. As they raised my dress, he told me, “This is my private elevator. No cameras.”

And then he had his hands on my waist, my dress bunched and caught on his wrists.

I was bare down there and he was staring. I wasn’t skinny. I had dimpled thighs and a slight pooch to my stomach. Lots of curves. All of that was enough to give me a complex, but he was looking at methere.I groomed, shaved and trimmed so I was neat and tidy, but lady parts were weird. What if he thought–

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growled, then, as if he couldn’t resist a second longer, lifted one of my legs and threw it over his shoulder, then put his mouth on me.

He gave me one long lick, then found my clit and flicked it. Then again.

“Oh fuck,” I called, my head tilting back as I stared at the ceiling. It felt so good. His hot breath, the talented swirlof his tongue and… oh! He slid a thick finger into me and did some magical curl. “There!”

My hands tried to find purchase in his shoulders, but he was too muscled. My hands slid up to tangle in his short hair and hold him to me. I was so close to coming. Ridiculously close. If I had any brain cells functioning, I would recognize he was able to get me there even faster than the day before in the library. Tongueandfingers were better than fingers alone.

I went up on my tiptoes and rolled my hips into him. His grip tightened, holding me right where he wanted me.

Because he was eating me out like a starving man.

Hehadmissed his dinner.

33

JACK

The sound of my name echoed off the walls of the elevator when she came. Fuck yes, she pretty much screamed it. Her fingers tugged at my hair, her leg pulling me into her pussy as she rode out her pleasure.

I kissed her inner thigh as I held her up while she recovered. Then I lowered her leg, rose and wiped my slick mouth and chin with the back of my hand. Fuck, she tasted good.

Reaching out, I slapped the button to get the elevator moving again. We didn’t say anything, instead stared at each other as she tried to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes wild.

I couldn’t help the smirk that played at my lips. She wasn’t a virgin, but I loved showing her that sex was more than missionary in bed. It was looks. Tastes. Teasing.