Chapter 7 #2
His scent consumes me and floods my lungs.
It’s a clean, intoxicating drag of shea butter laced with a sinful trace of vanilla.
Giving in to the madness and the undeniable gravity of him, I let my mouth ghost over his lips.
He groans, and I swear I feel the rumble all the way down my body.
To my surprise, he uses the last of his fleeting energy to firmly press his lips against mine, reverently nibbling and sucking until he goes lax in my arms.
Fuck me. My lips tingle, already missing his warmth. I’ve never experienced a first kiss quite like that before.
Dazed, I murmur a ‘thank you’ to the man who now feels like a corpse in my hold.
Shaking my head, I snap back to reality.
“Ooof. I’m so fucking thankful I work out so much as I do, because there is no denying you’re heavy as fuck.
Aren’t you, big guy?” Not to mention, he’s also dead weight.
I struggle to get his thick body to the bed.
Once I do, I take far too much pleasure repositioning him to my liking.
Slightly out of breath and questioning my life, I pant as I stare down at my handsome kidnapper.
Another bout of laughter tumbles from my lips.
“Damn,” I say out loud. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances. I think I might like you.”
Thanks to the crushed white amethyst I added to the sedative, he should be out for several hours.
Which means I have enough time to explore.
I’m really curious why this man was targeting Franko.
Was it something personal, or did he actually take a hit?
He didn’t react well to me asking if he was the mafia’s dog.
I mean, sure, I did call him a bitch, but usually people in the mafia flaunt it. Especially the goons.
So what’s this guy’s deal? My mind wanders back to the slip of paper with some of Franko’s victims on it. How did Jericho know my sister was supposed to be on that list?
I peer over at his sleeping form. My cold heart thaws just a little, knowing that someone out there is seeking revenge in her name.
Leaving his bedroom, I snoop around the house for about ten minutes before wandering back into his surveillance room and checking his cameras.
Sure enough, it’s the same security system I had before I realized I desperately needed an upgrade.
If you know anything about anything when it comes to computers and security, it doesn’t take long to find a backdoor to this program.
Once I have the surveillance in a loop, I walk out the front door and leave so that I can gather some supplies back at my place. The longer I think about Jericho, the more engrossed I become. And the more I’m convinced that my curiosity won’t be satisfied until I have the answers I want.
Two hours later, I’m back at his place, and everything is set up.
I re-enter his surveillance room and program the loop to last about five more minutes before switching back to normal.
That little gap in time should keep him questioning things without making him so suspicious that he investigates his house for my extra little additions.
Slipping out of his surveillance room, I re-enter my favorite room in the house.
A room that’s filled with personality and is clearly lived in.
While it’s still neat and tidy like the rest of his house, this room has life.
In the corner, there’s an end table with a half-empty mug of coffee and a book placed on top.
The walls are packed with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
I trace a finger across the spines, skimming past some well-worn classics, a half a shelf of handwritten journals, and several antique books with beautiful leather spines that look like they should be in a museum, not in the home of a hitman.
In the center of the room is a small oak table. A chessboard sits atop it, with a game frozen mid-action, displaying a patience I never imagined a clumsy brute to possess. But The Cleaner? This place is exactly what I’d imagine for someone as brilliant as him.
I no longer want to leave. An unexpected need to learn exactly who that man is in the next room overwhelms me.
My eyes scan the area one more time before clicking the door behind me.
This isn’t just Jericho’s home. This is his sanctuary.
I can imagine myself wanting to spend days here, getting lost in his possessions.
Getting lost in him.
As soon as my time is up, I meander through his house and down the hallway that leads to his bedroom.
He’s there on the bed, right where I left him.
Damn, he’s a tempting specimen. I trail my fingers over his muscular arm, lingering.
Once my eyes have had their fill of him, I place a letter and a special little gift for him on his pillow.
Then, adding an extra sway to my hips, I leave his room. Right before I walk out the front door, I turn back toward the camera I noticed earlier, give it a wink, and blow it a kiss.