Page 82 of The Hitman

“I wanted to be a good man.”

I push him away with a frown. “Sta’ zitto.”

He frowns.

I roll my eyes. “Shut up. You understood what I said.”

“Did I?” he laughs.

“You would have really let me go all the way back to America?”

His thumbs brush my cheeks. “Yes.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a good thing you’re not in charge then.”

“Si, tesora. That’s a very good thing.”

“Show me your house,” I tell him.

“Whatever you want.”

* * *

His apartment is definitely a bachelor pad.

It’s clean, but there’s not much in it; just the necessities. “You’re going to need more furniture,” I tell him as he pushes my suitcases out of the way.

“I have enough furniture,” he says, patting the back of his couch.

“That’s cute.”

“You’re going to be trouble.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

He laughs. God, I love the way he laughs.

“Get naked,” I tell him, power and excitement pulsing through my veins.

He lifts an eyebrow at me. I lift an eyebrow back. He pulls his shirt over his head.

I hold my hands behind my back because I want to touch him so badly, but I need to wait. Also, I want to watch him undress again.

“Sit on the bed,” I say when he’s naked. He rushes to sit on the edge of the bed, facing me, legs splayed and his semi-hard dick bouncing in the air. “You’re much better at taking orders than I am,” I breathe.

“Remember that when it’s my turn.”

I grab the hem of my dress and pull it up my legs slowly.

“Faster,” he grunts.

“Say it in Italian, and I’ll consider it.”

“Piu veloce,” he says.

I pull my dress over my head and throw it on the floor.

He grunts in approval.