Six(42)

He nodded in agreement. “I won’t. Find a way. I’ll wait.” His lips pressed against mine again. “I still love you, Pais.”

“I should have gone with you,” I whispered through my tears. “Now kiss me goodbye…one last time.”

Lips, tongues, mouths devouring. I could taste the salt of our tears on our lips. Feel the desperation of his body against mine, like he was trying to fold me into his. To keep me safe.

But there was no keeping me safe from an assassin.

One last tongue battle, one last feeling of his lips against mine. One last time feeling loved and cherished.

One last goodbye.

It took every bit of strength in me to pull away, to leave him.

Digby was the chance I’d been waiting for to escape, but there was no way I was going to risk his life in order to save mine. Even if I was ever able to get away from Six, there was already no way to go back.

Digby was a past that would never be my future, even if a part of me still loved him.

My future was written in blood and bathed in black.

Only a few steps later was when I intersected with Six. His jaw was tight, eyes empty as he looked down at my face. I was a mess, and there was no hiding it from him. He glanced behind me, and I didn’t dare to do the same.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand and yanked me away from Digby.

For the two-block trek back to the hotel, anger rolled off Six’s back, creating a tension that had people inadvertently steering clear.

The moment we were back in the room, he was stuffing things in suitcases.

“Get moving.”

“We’re leaving?” I asked. We’d just been on our way to meet a contact.

His spine straightened and he turned, a cold, hard glare meeting my gaze. “Who was he?”

I shook my head. “No one.”

He picked up his gun and cocked it before slipping it into his waistband.

“No!” I blocked his path do the door.

“He knows you. He saw you.”

“He didn’t.”

His hand gripped my neck, then he pushed me against the wall, baring his teeth. “Who is he, Lacey?” His hand tightened as he lifted me off the ground by my neck. “He was f*cking kissing you. Holding you. In an intimate way,” he seethed. “You were crying. He knew you. What did you tell him?”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend,” I managed to choke out.

His breath was heavy when he added through clenched teeth, “No, he’s a dead man.” He released me, sending me crashing down to the floor.

I scrambled to my knees, grabbing at his legs. “Please don’t!”

He pulled out his gun and pressed the tip into my forehead. “Putting please before don’t isn’t going to change my mind. Pleasantries aren’t for killers, remember?”

“You don’t need to worry about him.”

“What part of ‘he saw you’ don’t you f*cking understand?”

“He won’t say or do anything.” Please, not Digby. Don’t kill him.

“You’re right, because dead men don’t talk.”

He grabbed my hair, fisting it hard and pulling me back up to my feet. The pain was blinding, and it felt like he was about to tear my hair out. He leaned down, his teeth scraping against my neck before he bit down just below my ear. There was no pleasure, only pain. His whole body was tense, vibrating with a destructive energy. His other hand roughly kneaded my breast before he let go with so much force I stumbled back down to the floor.

Facing the anger of a killer wasn’t something I’d wanted to do in Paris, but I would do it to protect Digby.

He put the gun up on the table and picked up his knife. Kneeling between my legs, he grabbed onto the front of my shirt and sliced it open in one swift move.

My teeth chattered and I scooted back, only to have him draw me closer, prying my thighs open and slamming them to the floor. I wasn’t used to this side of him. It was worse than Paris.

He was out of control.

I didn’t know what was going on because it was more than just the possibility of Digby talking. The wild look in his eyes as he tore my shorts down, staring at my almost naked body with an aura of domination.

Maybe he saw me as out of control again and needed to assert his control over me. I really didn’t want another belt lashing.

The cool blade of his knife slid up my thigh and I froze, waiting to see where he was headed. The tip slipped under the edge of my panties and with a quick flip of his wrist, cut right through. He cut the other side, then pulled the scrap of clothing away from me.

Nostrils flared as he took deep breaths while he continued to run the tip of the knife around my skin.

“You are my wife in this life.”

His anger shifted, lust clouding his still turbulent eyes. I couldn’t do anything but lie there and pray that him being distracted provided enough time for Digby to leave.

The knife was tossed to the side as he opened up his jeans and pulled his cock out. No prep, just a lick to his hand to wet the tip before shoving it in. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable as he worked his way into my dry *.

I tried to retreat, but he gripped my neck with one hand and pinned my hips with the other.

Grunting and groaning, it only took a few strokes of his cock for my body to react and my * to start practically squirting all over the place. The lube served for each thrust of his hips to grind me harder into the floor.