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Could she sound any cuter when she says sleepy like that?
Could she sound any more mine?
“Don’t change the subject,” I tell her. “What were you going to say?”
“Huh?” she says, playing innocent. “What, when?”
“Just now, Juliana,” I say, stifling laughter. “Don’t play games with me.”
“Not even sexual games?”
“Be careful with that sort of banter,” I warn her. “I might decide to take you seriously and fuck you ragged, bend you over right now, and slam into that pink pussy of yours. Watch those gorgeously big ass cheeks bounce and shimmer for me. Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking of it.”
She leans up, placing her forearms on my chest.
“That’s what I mean.”
“What?” I say. “Why the fuck are you speaking in riddles? You better start making some sense with that mouth or I’ll find another use for it.”
Her eyes snap open wide, telling me how badly she’d want that, just as badly as I do.
But we agreed to wait, even if it’s killing me.
“I guess I’m just surprised that somebody like you, you know, muscular, not an ounce of fat on you, big thick arms and handsome as hell … I guess I’m surprised you’d want a girl like me.”
“Start making sense,” I tell her, staring down into those glinting forest green eyes of hers.
“Do you really not know what I’m getting at?”
“No. So why don’t you tell me?”
“Well—ah—I’m not exactly thin, am I, Jett?”
I can’t help it. I throw my head back and laugh, the sound coming from deep within my belly, as though my seed and the primal beast inside me are laughing along at the same time.
“Don’t laugh.”
She pouts, though her lips twitch into a smile too.
“I can’t help it,” I smirk. “Is that what you’re concerned about? Your body? Jesus Christ, Juliana, the idea that you’d be worried about your body is insane to me. It’s the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. You’ve got big magnificent tits made for fucking and drenching in come and, when the time comes, for feeding our children. You’ve got a juicy ass perfect for bouncing. You’ve got thick thighs made for grabbing. I love how full your figure is, you silly girl, so stop complaining about it. Understand?”
She laughs. “Okay, well you could’ve phrased it a little nicer. But yes, thank you. That means a lot to me. Will you rub my head again?”
“Ask nicely,” I smirk.
“Please, Mr. Big Bad Hitman, will you rub my head again?”
I let my head fall back onto the pillow, hardly believing that this morning when I woke up, I didn’t know this woman, didn’t know how much she meant to me.
My future seems so much brighter now.
If that is, I can deal with the Bratva.
“Juliana,” I say.
“Yes?”
“I told you I’d never lie to you, and I meant it.”
“Okay …”
“When I go out to buy supplies tomorrow, I’m going to contact an associate and arrange a meeting with the leader of the Bratva. I’m going to try and pay him off to leave you alone. And if that doesn’t work, I’m going to kill him and anybody else who threatens our family.”
She stiffens against me, clutching my shirt in an anxious fist.
“But what if you get hurt?”
“I won’t,” I promise her. “I’d never let anything stop me from returning to you. And this way, we get to be together. Forever. Like we’re fated to be.”
“Okay, Jett,” she murmurs. “I trust you. Where will we be when you’re buying supplies tomorrow? Are we coming with you?”
“No,” I tell her. “I’ve got a plan for that. You’re not claustrophobic, are you?”
Chapter Fourteen
Juliana
We eat a breakfast of canned beans that I scarf down because I’m hungry, not because it’s pleasant in any way. I’m still wearing the outfit from last night, making me feel like I need a shower … with Jett, preferable.
If I don’t lose my nerve.
As I look around the table – the three of us sitting in the curtained semidarkness – I can tell that Patricia and Jett are also trying to convince themselves that yesterday was real.
So much has happened.
So much has changed.
I feel as if months or even years of my life have been squashed and condensed into this small space of time, as though fate knew that it needed to pick up its speed what with the killers on the loose.
Patricia glances at me furtively, under her eyelashes, and then looks back down at her breakfast.
I reach across the table and touch her hand.
“I meant what I said yesterday,” I murmur. “I’m grateful. You saved me.”
“Right,” Jett says once we’re done, knocking back his glass of water. “It’s time I took you to the safe room. This won’t take long. Don’t worry.”
“The safe room,” Patricia mutters. “I’m sorry, um, Jett …”
“Jett Jackman,” Jett says gruffly.
“Jett Jackman, but I don’t know you. And now you want to lock me in a safe room—”
