Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 38

38

HANNAH

“You read too fast,” Jack said. “Slow down.”

We were on his leather couch, the day after the Night My Vagina Broke. It would go down in infamy for me. When I was ninety, I’d remember it. For now, I was feeling it. I was sore and while he had the most incredible stamina in bed, he needed a break, too.

I didn’t have to work today so he’d ordered in everything bagels and all the fixings; veggie cream cheese, capers, lox, and even sliced tomatoes. This didn’t need to be cooked and yet he hadn’t had any of it in his kitchen, proof that he really didn’t use it.

Except for coffee. That he made and did a really good job of it.

Our plates in the dishwasher and refilled mugs on the aptly named coffee table beside us, I was tucked between Jack’s legs, my back to his front. We were reading from my e-reader which I always carried with me in my purse.

Jack had insisted we read a romance together. I had a feeling he intended to act out any sex scene that we came across. With this author, there were going to be quite a few before The End. My pussy silently whimpered at the idea of more Big D, but Jack was inventive and very creative so I knew he’d satisfy us both in other ways.

“You slow down when we get to the sex scenes,” I muttered. I held the e-reader in one hand, the other on his jean-clad thigh. Yes, jeans. I figured he owned some, but this was a first. The fact that that was all he wore made me happy. In return, all I wore was one of his white dress shirts.

I was fed, well satisfied and cozy in Jack’s arms.

“Research.”

I giggled which made him tickle me. Which made me drop the e-reader onto the soft carpet beside the couch. Which made my hands free so when I rolled over, I could let them roam his bare chest.

“When did you start getting tattoos?” I asked, running my fingertip over a Celtic band on his bicep.

“Sixteen. Dax and I have matching ones.”

I looked up at him through my lashes. “That’s sweet.”

He stroked my hair back. I’d showered and used his scented soap, but he didn’t have any hair products because the jerk had naturally perfect hair, so mine looked a little wild and wavy. “Dax’s dad, Big Mike, took us to get them after we–”

His eyes roved over my face.

“After you what? ”

“After we both won our first fights. Big Mike owned a fighting gym.”

“Is he gone now?” I asked.

“Florida. Retired.”

“You said his dad took you in after your mom died.”

He nodded. “Yeah. He’s a good man.”

“You took up boxing because of him?”

“MMA. Mixed martial arts. And yes. I was an angry teen, and he gave me an outlet. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I feel confident you never wanted to take after your dad and stuff roadkill.”

I rolled my eyes and had to laugh. “Not a chance.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’s an accountant. Too boring.”

He smiled and it lit up his face. “I really like the books you read. If I do, then I’m sure the store you mentioned will be a huge success.”

“Someday,” I said, feeling the familiar twinge of disappointment.

“Tell me about it. I know you have it all figured out.”

“Really?”

He shifted me so I was tucked between his side and the back of the couch. My top leg was thrown over his and my head was on his chest. I felt his heart thumping beneath my ear. I couldn’t remember being so content. And I couldn’t imagine ever going back to being alone.

“Really.”

“Well, there’s a vacant space on Main Street that’s perfect. It already has some shelving and a cashier counter. It’s on the same block with several popular restaurants and shops that cater to tourists. People read on their vacations and women–and you–enjoy escapist fiction like romance.”

“The spicier the better,” he added, giving me a squeeze.

“I’ll offer all kinds. Spicy, sweet, all genres and make sure I’m as inclusive as possible.”

“You’ve got it all worked out. I’m impressed.”

I stayed quiet and he noticed. “What?” he prodded.

“Besides Brittany and Mrs. Metcalf, you’re the only one who thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Maybe you’ve surrounded yourself with the wrong people.”

“I can’t ditch my family just because they’re–”

“Crazy? Hurtful?”

I pursed my lips. They were those things.

“Family isn’t always forged with blood. I should know.”

Yeah, he should.

“I want to meet your friend Dax.”

“Oh, gorgeous, he’s dying to meet you. Soon. For now, I want to know if the heroine realizes she’s fallen for the wrong twin.”

“You know these books all end in happily ever afters, right?”

“I hope in more than just books.”