Page 122 of Watching Her

“I’m curious. Does the name Southshore Limited mean anything to you?”

I sensed her mind was processing the name. “No. I’ve never heard of it. Should I have?”

“Maybe not, but it’s the missing piece that will tie the sabotage to Covington and I’d hate to think it had anything to do with dear ole George.”

“You’re right.”

“Don’t worry about Carrington. I’ll handle him.”

She arched her back. “Will you promise not to kill him?”

“Mmm… You’re asking a lot.”

Her saucy smile sent another wave of desire through me. “Promise me.”

“Alright. For you. But that doesn’t mean I won’t ruin him.”

As she inched closer, I inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume, savoring the moment before I devoured her. “That’s just fine by me.”

Perhaps we really were very much alike after all.

CHAPTER 26

Penelope

How to fall hard for a man in less than thirty days.

Wasn’t that a title of a book somewhere? Although in my case, the title should actually be a little darker, edgier.

How to fall hard for a deviant, dominating, dangerous assassin in less than thirty days.

I wasn’t certain if I was of sound mind after his near admittance that he’d killed several people. Why wasn’t I running hard and fast to get away from him instead of enjoying the most powerful kiss we’d shared so far?

Why wasn’t I eager to call the police, turning Christian in for being just like his father? Instead my pussy was throbbing, my panties already damp in anticipation and eagerness of having his thick cock shoved deep into my cunt.

What I did know somewhere in the furthest reaches of my conscience was that I should not feel as strongly about the man holding me in his arms as I was. Yet men who’d once been feared as evil and nothing else, were now glorified in books and movies as being gods of sex.

Dominating.

Passionate.

The perfect alpha male.

And in Christian’s case, all of it was true.

How many dark romance books had I read in my life? Enough to know the difference between fiction and real life. Maybe the lines were blurred, but I didn’t doubt from what I’d read about Thomas Atwood that he was a terrible man. Did that mean he deserved to die?

Well…

I was breathless, lightheaded, and had a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. As he rolled his hand down my back, cupping my bottom, I swung one leg around his. I could honestly enjoy kissing him for hours. The time for chastising my behavior or my desires for him was over. At least for now.

The closeness was exactly what I needed, the feeling that he’d wipe the world away to keep me safe meaning more than he could understand.

He half carried, half dragged me toward where he’d parked. When he finally broke the kiss, he took his time tracing my lips with the tip of his tongue, slowly moving it to my ear. After a quick slip into the shell, he bit my earlobe.

All while I was shuddering and crawling the fingers of one hand down his shirt, which I tugged on until I was able to slide my hand underneath.

The scalding heat from his skin seared my fingertips and I offered a strangled moan.