Daddy would let himself back in if it was him, and no one else would be able to get past the security team downstairs without his say-so.

  So who or what?

  There’s only one way to find out. The second knock once I’m near the door sounds so loud, so strong, I feel like I’m doing the stupidest thing by opening it.

  Until I see just who’s knocking, that is.

  That perfect man? The kind a girl like me needs right now more than ever?

  He’s here.

  I gasp once my eyes move up past his chest. He’s not a short man. Not short on the muscle and mean look department either. Apart from his heavy boot inside the door, it’s how serious he looks.

  I don’t know who he is or how he got in here, but I yield instantly to my original idea of throwing myself at the first man I see.

  Two seconds in his company and I already know he’s all I’d ever want, so why look anywhere else?

  “Stephanie?” he rasps in a gravelly voice. It’s deep but strangely calm, considering how primed that body of his looks under his dark blue suit.

  Like he’s ready to take on a whole army all by himself. And win.

  It looks out of place—the suit, I mean. But this guy could be wearing nothing but a fig leaf and he’d still be equally imposing.

  He’s like some ultra-stern, god-like figure from an ancient Greek painting come to life. The day-old stubble doesn’t match the suit, and if I do say so, he hasn’t showered today either.

  Not a gym sock smell, no way, but the smell of pure testosterone—the scent we’re all led to believe every man has naturally but nobody does.

  No one except this man.

  “I… Come in,” I hear myself blabbering as if I’m greeting Christmas guests, opening the door wider before stepping backward. Feeling more than the wine making my head spin as I watch him move inside and glance left to right before he leans back against the door.

  The security locks snap shut under his weight, and I can’t help but gulp down my feelings.

  I should be a dozen things right now—terrified, angry, even just mildly curious as to who this man is and what he wants. But dammit. The only thing he makes me want to do is whatever the hell he tells me to.

  He’s way out of my league to start calling the shots. And my experience with men is about as vast as my senator skills. It’s clear he’s not here because of my own pressing need that never even got underway—the same need that feels like it’ll make me burst the longer I’m anywhere near him.

  “It’s not Daddy, is it?” I ask involuntarily, suddenly fearing the worst but saying the first thing I can think of that isn’t ‘Would you please take my virginity? I kinda made a deal with myself.’

  My stranger’s eyes darken, and he frowns, shaking his head slowly. It’s almost as if he has just realized something I can’t.

  “Stephanie, someone’s been assigned to kill you tonight. I’m not going to let that happen. You’re safe but you’ll need to do exactly as I tell you, do you understand?”

  The shock of his message, the idea that someone would want me dead.

  Did he just say he wasn’t going to let it happen? That I have to do exactly what he says?

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” I manage to get out before biting my lip, not meaning it to sound the way it came out, but it’s enough to see him cock a brow.

  A faint smile twitches at the edge of his lip, and his jaw flexes. His dark eyes scan me head to toe, reminding me I’m still very wet and freezing cold under my cling film robe, all except for one place. My impromptu outfit gives him a free wet t-shirt show that should make me ashamed.

  Having him look at me like this, the only shame would be if we couldn’t translate his pleased look into something we could maybe both benefit from.

  I’ve learned something about becoming a senator. Negotiate, sure. But stick to your guns when it comes to those promises, like letting the next man I see do whatever he wants with me.

  And what was that part about someone being sent to kill you, remember?

  I try to act natural, motioning for my mystery guest to sit down, not surprised when he stays standing and doesn’t introduce himself. My own legs are barely able to get me to a chair in the living room before I sink into it, squeaking against the exquisite sensation of my increasing arousal.

  That thing that still needs taking care of? It’s about to boil over. I have no idea how he’s doing it, but this man is deadly dangerous. No doubt about it. Killing me with his intense eyes and the subtle blast of pure manliness pouring off him like gasoline fumes.

  “So, who on earth would want me killed? And if they do, how do you know so much about it?” I ask, sounding way more relaxed about the idea than I probably should be.

  “Because I’m the one assigned to kill you,” he explains, deadpan.

  Shit.

  Although, if I’m really about to die, that does leave the option for one final request, doesn’t it?

  CHAPTER 4

  Logan

  Ihave the common sense to literally scope the place out before charging in there, waiting until the designated time would mean I’d have to anyway.

  Her whole building is a lock box. Armor-piercing rounds might just make it through those bulletproof windows, but this was supposed to be a ghost kill, not a red fingerpainting.

  I would have to get up there in plain sight even if I was gonna end her, finish her off hand to hand…

  The thought makes me twitch a grin because the only hands I have to put on her are the kind that want to make her feel good. Not the killing kind.

  Whoever wants her dead can expect a social call from me very soon, but I’ll save that line of inquiry until I know she’s safe. With me. Where she’s going to be from now on if she wants to stay alive.

  Re-negging on a mission like I’m doing, it’s suicide. My second but unofficial retirement has come early, though. I just hope she’s on board with the idea of me because from now on, I'm the only thing between her and whoever wants us both dead after today.

  From the roof of a neighboring building using a scope minus the rifle, I see for myself that she’s not just alone. She’s fucking naked as a jaybird.

  This is turning out to be better than I could’ve imagined.

  The plan I had, to slide in undetected, disappears when I see that perfect ass of hers in my crosshairs. Her heavy chest brushes the edge of the bath as she eases herself onto her knees, her back towards me.

  In record time, I make my way back down to the street and bluff my way past the only security guard in the building, informing him with the flash of a dummy badge that I’m here to resume the security detail for Mr. Foster’s daughter.

  It’s more my size and steel-eyed look that gets me through than the badge. The guard unwittingly saves his own life when he shrugs, waving me towards the elevators with a passkey he slides across to me.

  He thought it was a little odd Mr. Foster would leave his daughter alone without the usual staff, including their own regular security.

  It’s a setup, chief. Nothing’s this easy. Stand down!

  I’m in too deep to turn back now though and not because I’ve been spotted entering the building.

  I’d be here for Stephanie no matter what, I just wish it could be under better circumstances. I manage to keep it together all the way up, doing what most assassins actually do in real life, especially for these close kills. I ring the doorbell.

  Seeing her flushed face as she opens the door, I struggle to contain myself before she surprises me by asking me right in.

  Still wearing most of that bath she was taking, I can’t help but be just a little distracted. Seeing her in the flesh from afar is one thing, but being this close to her is like a nuclear fucking blast at the front of my pants.

  She sees and hears me just fine, just not having the reaction I would’ve expected. Even once it’s clear I’m here to kill her, she has a faraway, almost dreamy look. A little smile forms but not from my news.

  She’s definitely getting the signal my own body’s broadcasting, loud and clear. As if nothing else matters.

  “I don’t know exactly who wants you dead,” I start to explain, feeling like seconds matter more than anything right now until I can get her out of here, feeling the need to get us both moving.

  I’m unable to stop the obvious tumbling out of my mouth before getting lost in explanations. “You’re all wet.”

  I mean, she’s hardly dressed for a covert extraction. That and the fact I don’t exactly have a plan at this stage. Her being all wet feels like a much better place to start.

  Hearing me say it makes her flush harder, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. She almost sways in her seat until she grips the armchair, stopping her head from rolling back. A tiny whimper leaves her lips.

  I half wonder if someone hasn’t poisoned her already. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been assassin number two or even three on assignment. When someone wants you erased, there’s no limit to what they’ll do.

  It’s the shock. It’s a lot for her to take in all at once.

  “You alright?” I move closer to her, her hand clawing at the air, looking like she’s about to faint for real this time. My own hand reaches for hers, and we both feel it.

  She’s not fainting and the only real shock is something neither of us can ignore a second longer.

  “Y’know? I already promised myself, the next man I saw, any man, he could have his way with me.”

  She says it in a husky tone, both of us falling deeper into a different kind of ambush. A trap we both know we can’t escape.

  I don’t want to take her life, I wanna put one inside her. That’s the only thing I wanted the second I saw her face. Hearing her own little confession, her strange deal with herself, I need to be sure.

  I’ve made enough trouble for us both already, and she has no idea what she’s going to have to leave behind if I grant her wish.

  Her dying wish as it might have turned out.

  “Any man?” I rasp, dropping to my knees while hers open wider. Her head shakes from side to side, her whole body trembling until I move close enough for her to show me if this is what she really wants.

  “Not just any man,” she mews, shivering until my mouth greedily covers hers before she can finish. Her hands curl around as much of me as she can hold. My own body is torn between kissing her and holding her as close and hard as I know I want to.

  “I-I mean I’ve never,” she whispers between panting breaths. Her own hands find the thick pillar of meat at the front of my pants, making me wonder just how much she’s never done before tonight.

  She finds the controls right away, like a natural.

  “I’ll show you,” I promise her.

  The need to leave, to kill, to run—all meaningless now that I have her in my arms. The same electric feeling returns with each pass of my hands over her body before I feel her legs hooking behind me.

  The heat from her mound is already grinding against the steel girder of a hard-on I have, already flexing against her, needing to be inside her.

  Her wide blue eyes look up at me as she pouts a little. “I-I don't even know your name.”

  “Logan.” My voice scratches, forcing a dry swallow before it hits me that I’m trembling just the same as she is.

  “Then will you do it, Logan? Do whatever you want to me? I’m all yours.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Stephanie

  It’s not the wine talking. I really mean it. Logan’s look is enough to take me places wine never could, but his hands on me… the taste of his lips.

  Logan…

  Even hearing his name is enough to make me see stars.

  Every word of it’s true though, as slutty as it might sound. I’ve lucked out by having the world’s most handsome assassin, but the jackpot is, he doesn’t even want to kill me.

  Drill me, sure, but he’s not gonna hurt me and I’m already past the wanting stage. It's a pure biological need right now, no matter how I put it to him. He can have me in any way he wants for as long as he wants.

  Because I already know, knew a moment ago, that I don’t want any other man’s hands on me ever. It’s Logan or nothing for me.

  What should surprise me most doesn’t though. His huge, muscular frame and iron grip can also be as gentle as a lamb. He holds me firmly, no doubt about it, but there’s a tenderness in him I think might be surprising him even more than me.

  For a girl who’s never done this before, I think I hold my own well enough until his thick fingers find my soaking slit under my robe.

  I moan maybe a little too loudly, but Logan echoes one right back, edging a firm digit around my quivering hole. An equally thick thumb finds my stiff clit and I’m done.

  In one move, he’s given me more pleasure than a hundred weekends alone ever could. And it’s clear he hasn't even really started on me.

  I clench up and start to shudder instantly, all the pent-up need I’ve had as long as I can remember threatening to be released any second.

  I’ve had orgasms before. I think. What this man’s doing to me should frighten me. It’s a million times more intense than anything I’ve managed on my own.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he cautions me roughly once he sees how close I am, but I catch enough of his smile as he moves swiftly to know he’s not really serious. Burying his face where his hands were and spoiling me by taking all of me with his mouth.

  He seems determined that my first climax is going nowhere that his lips aren’t. Magic lips are what they are. He’s dialing it higher and higher until it feels like I’ll pop, and then he shows me something totally new.

  My hips buck and roll in time with his tongue, and my legs hook around his thick neck, easily making me give in to the idea of drifting back in my seat.

  It’s as though someone thought of every tiny detail when they made this masterpiece of a man. My own hands grip his downy soft hair, cut just short enough to grab onto, almost yanked out by the roots once I feel the full force of my final climax as a virgin.

  ‘Devouring’ the first man you see?

  It’s kinda turned out the other way around but that suits me just fine. I could get used to this, just this if that’s all he wanted. To taste my essence on his lips. To hear me moaning like a horny ghost.

  I’m getting a little greedy to taste some more of him myself. My top teeth chew at my lower lip, but so far, I get the impression that Logan likes to take the lead and I’m not really in much of a position to argue.

  I’m more annoyed than anything because this assassination wasn’t bumped up the calendar a little earlier. This is exactly what I needed a week ago. But who am I kidding? I’ve needed this for a long time.

  “Which room’s yours?” he asks hoarsely, forcing me to focus through the intense waves still washing over me.

  He picks me up, holding me like I’m all he has to eat from now on, eyeing the stairs and numerous doorways of our cavernous ‘apartment’ in the financial district.

  “Uhhh, through there,” I coach him, drawing a low grunt from him before he gives me a little squeeze. His eyes move forward, like a hawk’s, as if he’s got a mile hike ahead of him carrying me across a vast, open savannah.

  It’s just down the hall, really. Sure it’s a big house, but I just know that Logan would carry me that far, just like this if he had to.

  The house doesn't interest him though, and I’ve never been so glad to see my bed once he eases me down onto it. The big, white four poster in a white room surrounded by white everything.

  “You’ve never even kissed a man, have you?” he asks after glancing around.

  It feels more like an accusation, but it’s true. “I’m about as virgin as you’ll get.” I shrug, feeling relieved because I can see how happy it makes him.

  Double pleased myself when he wastes no time in stepping out of that suit, keeping both eyes on me the whole time, his intense look growing hungrier by the second.

  I feel my mouth hanging open as he undresses, redefining just how wet he makes me in a matter of seconds.

  Holy shit.

  Those weren’t shoulder pads. Logan’s chiseled physique makes him look stronger and fitter than any man half his age.

  I’d pick him for forty, tops. The sound of his thick erection slapping against his abs makes me forget all about birthdays, and my insides quiver once it’s clear that’s exactly where that beautiful dick of his is headed. I gulp hard again, mesmerized by the sight of it, already obsessed with it as much as I’m crazy for the rest of him.

  I try to sit myself up, really wanting to return the favor he just gave me in the living room. Before I can, he’s hovering over the top of me and both my hands begin to explore his manhood, which feels hot and stiff but also soft and bendy in a way.

  And although two of my hands on it leave plenty of change, there's only one place I know I want it.

  I can check under the hood later. Let’s take this thing for a ride!

  “Tell me this is what you want.”

  His gravelly voice makes my head pump. The best I can manage right now is a wheeze, already feeling my eyes wanting to roll back.

  The slick warmth of something slippery from his cock instantly makes me want to be bathed in it.

  “I-I do, Logan,” I manage to squeak. His eyes move closer to mine, that serious look in them again.

  “I mean, if this is what you want, then things can never be the same for you. You’ll have to do exactly as I say… for a while at least.”

  My hands grip at his chest. The idea of only just a ‘little while’ with Logan is unbearable.

  I want this, forever. All day, every day.

  “I don’t want it, Logan. I need it,” I purr with all my heart, knowing he understands just how much once I feel his flexing pole starting to fill me, knowing myself well enough to grasp just how hard I’ve fallen for him already.

  CHAPTER 6

  Logan

 

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