Page 56 of The Hitman’s Final Job

The kiss is not gentle this time. This is two weeks of keeping a distance even when we both know that’s not what either of us wants.

He threads his hands through my hair, pulling me closer. My scalp burns, but I don’t care, because all I can feel is the taste of Silas’s tongue. The soft lips, the scrape of his beard against my skin. I reach down and pick him up. Silas isn’t a small man. He’s slim but fit. Not entirely light, but light enough for me. He wraps his legs around my waist, and I carry him through my bedroom door.

I drop us to the bed and cover his body with mine. I swear I hear a whimper.

“Fuck, Vaughn. You feel so good.”

“So do you. Your fucking mouth is sinful.”

We’re both hard already. I’ve been erect since he put his hand on my leg at dinner. We can’t stop kissing. I don’t want to.

Silas gets his hands on the hem of my shirt.

He pulls it up.

Then he stops.

I lift my head and take him in. His hair is disheveled, his mouth red, his eyes dark and certain.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

This man has been in my house and my garden and my life for two weeks, makes coffee before I’m awake and knows more about gardening than is good for my heart, has a Pine Ridge wooden bear on his windowsill, and has been twelve feet away from me every night while I’ve been lying in the dark not knocking on his door.

“That I want you?” I ask. “Absolutely. Without question.”

He holds my gaze.

“Of the consequences?” I say. “That’s not something I want to think about right now.”

Something moves through his eyes. It could be relief or recognition that us getting here was inevitable; we’ve just been too stubborn to recognize it.

He pulls my shirt over my head and runs his hands down my chest.

I watch his face as he does it. There’s a focused, unhurried attention, like he’s memorizing me, his palms flat against my chest, moving slowly, learning. His eyes follow his hands, and I absorb every inch of his heated gaze.

It’s been so long since another man has touched me. I close my eyes and breathe in.

“You’re so beautiful, Vaughn. Just like I knew you would be.” His voice is soft, sensual. “Do you know how often I imagined this?”

“You’ve always intrigued me, Silas. I’ve wanted you for so long.” I straddle his waist and bring him up to a sitting position. “Your turn.”

I reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. I knew Silas must work out regularly because the way his tank top hugged his chest when we were in the garden made my brain stop, but now that I can touch it, feel the warm skin, the ridges of his abs …

“Fuck, Silas.”

“You like?”

“Very much.”

“Vaughn,” he says, and my name in his mouth sounds different. “I’m gonna need you to touch me.”

“I thought I was doing that already.”

He grabs my hand and places it over his jeans where his cock is so hard it must be painful. “Sex Ed 101, Vaughn. That’s my cock. It wants you. Badly.”

“Okay, smartass.”

“That’s yours too.”