Author: Jen Frederick, Jessica Clare
Series: Hitman #3
Published by Berkley Trade
Release Date May 5, 2015
Genres: Dark Romance, Erotic Romance, Mystery/Suspense
More Info: Goodreads
Purchase From: Amazon US
Purchase From: Barnes & Noble
Purchase From: Amazon UK
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Naomi: When I was kidnapped I thought only of survival. I don’t thrive well in chaos. That’s why I gave my captors exactly what they wanted: my skill with computers. Making millions for a crime lord who kept me imprisoned in his basement compound kept my family safe. When he was taken out, I thought my ticket to freedom had arrived. Wrong. I traded one keeper for another. This time I’m in the hands of a scarred, dark, demanding Russian who happens to be the head of the Bratva, a Russian crime organization. He wants my brain and my body. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued, but I can’t be a prisoner forever...no matter how good he makes me feel.
Vasily: At a young age, I was taught that a man without power is a puppet for all. I’ve clawed—and killed—my way to the top so that it is my heel on their necks. But to unify the fractured organization into an undefeatable machine, I need a technological genius to help me steal one particular artifact. That she is breathtaking, determined, and vulnerable is making her more dangerous than all of my enemies combined. But only I can keep her safe from the world that she now inhabits. Soon, I must choose between Naomi and Bratva law. But with every day that passes, this becomes a more impossible choice.
From the bestselling authors of Last Hit and Last Breath comes the next dark and sensual tale in the Hitman series that crosses the line between danger and desire…
Meet Naomi & Vasily in the newest addition to the Hitman Series!
“Do you wish for me to touch you?”
I nod, sucking in a breath when his thumb skates across my lower lip. I should be thinking GERMS BACTERIA CONJUNCTIVITIS HERPES SKIN CONTACT PATHOGENS but all I can focus on is how skittery and excited his touch makes me. My pulse jumps, and I realize that I’m as aroused now with him talking to me and touching me with his fingers as I was in the bathroom when I masturbated.
He pulls his hand away again, and I realize his other is gripping my shoulder, his arm wrapped around my back. I’m pulled against his chest, and I feel oddly secure here against him. Then, Vasily moves his fingers in the air again, as if to get my attention. I watch as his free hand now moves to my knee and firmly presses it back, nudging my legs apart.
And I’m helpless to protest. I want this. I want to know what’s going to happen when he touches me. I’m throbbing and aching with need, and my breath is coming as small, gasping little pants that are registering even in my distracted mind.
“Are you still unsettled?” he asks in a low voice.
“No,” I whisper, my tone matching his. “I’m aching.”
He groans softly, and then his hand glides up the inside of my thigh, the backs of his fingers skimming along my leg. Then, Vasily’s hand moves and he is cupping my pussy. He feels scorching hot against me, and just the sensation of his skin touching mine is making me anxious.
“You are very wet,” he rasps, and I notice curiously that his breathing is as rapid as my own. One of his fingers presses forward, parting the lips of my pussy and pushing in. “Very wet.”
“I can’t help it. It’s a natural reaction to stimuli, but I understand if it disturbs you—”
“I like it.” His voice is a guttural growl against my ear, and I shiver. I didn’t realize how close he’s pressed to me but I can feel his breath on my neck, and his head is canted toward mine, as if he is telling me secrets. “I like that your wetness is for me.”
“I don’t know if—” I begin to protest, but his finger taps against my clit, and I gasp, completely and utterly distracted by that quick touch. It feels . . . different to have a man do it for me. Very different. Intense. Raw. I grab his hand at the wrist and press my flesh against his fingers, asking for more.
“Tell me what you want, Naomi.”
“More.” I press his hand again, breathless, and my hips twitch. “Start with an even rhythm and circle the hood of my clit. Over time, speed up and increase the frequency of touches. You can change the pattern as you go but don’t let up until I come.”
He laughs again, and I stiffen, but then his finger begins to move against my clit, stroking it in tiny circles like I told him. “I like that you tell me exactly what you want, Naomi. There are no games with you.”
I’m confused at that. Isn’t that what he wants me to do? But then a second finger follows the first, and he’s rubbing wide circles around my clit, and adding an extra little stroke every now and then, and it feels like he’s taking my flesh between his fingers and just rubbing rubbing rubbing . . . And I love it.
“Just like that,” I tell him, closing my eyes and falling against his shoulder. I hold my knees open wider so he won’t stop touching me, and my hips begin to move, involuntarily following his fingers as he touches me.
“Do you like this?” His voice is rough, biting, and so close to my face.
I nod without opening my eyes, letting the sensations take over. “It feels much better when you do it,” I tell him, and cry out when one of his fingers dips lower and touches me . . . deeper. “What are you doing?”
“I am seeing if you like more touches.” His nose nuzzles against my face, and I press against him, seeming to need his caresses as much as I need his touch on my clitoris. “Are you frightened?”
“No, but I like the other touch better,” I tell him as his finger circles lower. “That one just makes me ache.”
“It makes your cunt ache to be filled,” he tells me. “Someday, you will let me fill it for you.”
I don’t reply; I don’t need to, because he circles a finger at the entrance to my core a moment longer, and then shifts his hand. My fingers graze over his, exploring—I feel too good to open my eyes and leave the sea of sensations—and I realize he’s now working my clit with his thumb. His finger presses deeper again, and I gasp when he sinks it into me.
I’m riding his hand.
He murmurs something in Russian and I feel his mouth press against my brow.
Then, as if he’s a car that’s changed gears, he begins to press his thumb against my clit rapidly. His speed is so fast that he practically feels as if he’s vibrating . . . and these motions carry down to the thick finger that’s buried deep inside me.
I’ve never experienced this double sensation before, and it’s overwhelming.
I bite my lip, and when that won’t hold my feelings inside, I burst into noisy gasps and my hands start clawing at him, at his shirt. I don’t know what I need, but this feels like too much. It’s overwhelming and twice as powerful as anything I’ve ever done to myself. “Stop, stop,” I breathe, even as I press my legs further apart and lift my hips against his hand.
“Vasily, stop. Vasily!”
“Keep saying my name like that, Naomi.”
“Vasily, please.” I pull at his shirt, practically butting my head against him as I writhe against his hand. “I need . . . something . . . more . . . not as fast. Too much!”
But he keeps twitching that intense thumb against my clit, stroking his finger inside me. He’s not stopping. If anything, he’s going faster.
And all of a sudden, my body can’t handle it anymore. I burst and a hard, choked noise rushes out of my throat, and my body clenches and I’m coming, coming, coming, endlessly coming.
I feel as if I’m being torn apart by pleasure so intense it’s making my toes curl even as the breath leaves my lungs. And all the while, I gasp like a dying fish and cling to his shirt.
Nikolai: I have been a contract killer since I was a boy. For years I savored the fear caused by my name, the trembling at the sight of my tattoos. The stars on my knees, the marks on my fingers, the dagger in my neck, all spoke of danger. If you saw my eyes, it was the last vision you’d have. I have ever been the hunter, never the prey. With her, I am the mark and I am ready to lie down and let her capture me. Opening my small, scarred heart to her brings out my enemies. I will carry out one last hit, but if they hurt her, I will bring the world down around their ears.
Daisy: I’ve been sheltered from the outside world all my life. Home-schooled and farm-raised, I’m so naive that my best friend calls me Pollyanna. I like to believe the best about people. Nikolai is part of this new life, and he’s terrifying to me. Not because his eyes are cold or my friend warns me away from him, but because he’s the only man who has ever seen the real me beneath the awkwardness. With him, my heart is at risk . . . and also, my life.
Regan: I never really knew what misery was until the day I was kidnapped and sold for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Two months later, I’m at a brothel in Rio when I meet Daniel Hays. He says he’s here to save me, but can I trust him? All I know of him are his sarcastic retorts and his tendency to solve every dispute with his gun. He’s also the only safe thing in my world, and I know it’s wrong to fall in love with him, but I can’t seem to help myself. He says he’ll protect me until his last breath, but I don’t know if I should believe him or even if I can.
Daniel: For the last eighteen months, one goal has dictated every action I’ve taken. I’ve left the Army, turned paid hit man, and befriended criminals all across the globe to find my kidnapped sister. In every brothel I raid and every human trafficking truck I stop, I hope the next face I find is my sister’s. In a hidden brothel in Rio, I find Regan Porter, bruised but not broken, and still sane despite her weeks in captivity. I should leave her behind or send her home, because the last thing either of us needs right now is to get involved. But with every passing minute, I find I’m less able to let her go.
There was a time when Nick loved the fear he instilled in his enemies. His tattoos alone promised danger, but it was the look in his eyes that delivered on it. A contract killer since he was just a boy, Nick has now forged a new life and a new identity with the woman who followed him, captured him, and changed him.
He terrified Daisy. Once. But she couldn’t resist, and she ignored every warning. It paid off. Now she’s part of a new beginning, a fresh start in America helping him to leave behind a reckless and violent past as a professional killer. But the past is never easy to outrun, especially when so much of it thrives on revenge.
A new threat has emerged from the shadows, and now Nick and Daisy have no choice but to rely on Nick’s killer skills to protect them from everything they’ve tried so hard to escape.
In the explosive new Hitman novel from the bestselling authors of Last Kiss and Last Hit a jungle mercenary and a female target find love on the run…
Mendoza: I grew up in the slums and lost everything I loved to poverty, illness, and death. I had only one skill to leverage myself out of my circumstances—violence. Being hired out as a mercenary hitman brought me money and built an empire. I’m the king, owner of an entire island, leader and protector of people. But I’m alone, and alone I must remain—because of my terrible scars and secret shame. My next job: Bring down a rival hiding in the Amazon. Find my target. Destroy it. But then, I meet her.
Ava: Ok, I’ll admit it. I’m famous for having bad luck. Karma hates me, and when the day job got ugly, I figured I could use a vacation. I should have known that bad luck tends to cling. So there’s no way I’m surprised that my plane was shot out of the sky. That I survived a crash-landing was a sweet twist. My jungle rescuer isn’t so bad either. Hot, sexy, dangerous—Mendoza’s just what the libido ordered. The thing is, he says I wasn’t some unlucky part of a larger plot. In fact, I was the target. So what does he know that I don’t know? I guess I’m going to find out. If I have to be on the run with someone, I could do much worse than Mendoza. Now if I could only get the stubborn man to touch me…