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He doesn’t want to wait.
“I want you to tattoo half a heart onto me,” he goes on huskily. “And then, once I’ve claimed that gorgeous virgin body, tattoo the other half.”
“A heart,” I murmur, thinking of love. “That’s quite the symbol.”
His lips twitch. “I know. But I meant what I said before, Freya. I’ve never felt this way about anybody.”
“What way?” I whisper.
It would be so easy to misinterpret this.
I continuously warn myself – and it’s getting tiring – to slow my thoughts down. It’s like they want to gallop ahead, ignoring reason and common sense.
His intense eyes glint. I’m sure he’s thinking more than he’s sharing.
“Like I’m ready to start something,” he says.
“You’ve never wanted a relationship before?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I tried since it was what everybody else does. But I couldn’t force it. I couldn’t make myself into a man who cared deeply and honestly for a woman…and then I saw you. And it all changed. Right then.”
My body thrums with his words, the force of them surging through me. He wants me…fine, maybe not in the exact same sense, but way more intensely than a casual fling.
“Shame you were hired to kill me,” I whisper, trying for a laugh.
He leans down, kissing the edge of my mouth tenderly.
“I never wanted that life. I wish I’d gone after Mr. Red earlier.”
“But you couldn’t risk Yasmin or Felicia.”
He nods grimly. “But still. How many people have died while I’ve been working for this bastard? And I bought his story about being some honest…what, death broker?”
I grab his chest with both hands, feeling his heart slamming, pounding like a thousand emotions are trying to break free.
“You’re fixing it now, Felix. You’re a good person.”
“I try to be,” he says.
I laugh, shaking my head. “You saved my life. You werehiredto kill me. But you took a stand when you found out I wasn’t like the others.”
It’s my turn to initiate the kiss now.
Standing on my tiptoes, I lean toward my experienced man, pressing firmly against his lips. He kisses me in return, his hands looping around my waist, pressing on the small of my back and driving our bodies closer together.
His manhood is so hard, pressing against me hungrily.
“What do you think?” he asks, his breath caressing my face. “About the tattoo?”
“Are you sure you trust me?” I murmur.
“I remember how passionate you were, talking about it,” he says intensely. “I believe in you. I trust you.”
“Then…I think it would make it really special. Half a heart before, and half….”
I trail off again, thinking aboutafter, the sex, the if I’m going to be able to give him what he wants.
“After,” he whispers.
