Forced Assassin Read Online Free PDF Page B

come up with the goods, you’re losing out. I won’t pay up until we have all those bags back. Oh, and Frankie? You need to give that dopey bastard a warning—the one who lost that wanker and the woman. Let him know how the land lies, right?”
    Frankie nodded and he and Kemp left the room. Waterman picked up the phone and issued an order for Kemp to be tailed. That little fucker had been pushing his buttons for too long now. Getting too big for his boots, he was.
    Waterman didn’t do people getting too big for their boots.
     
    * * * *
     
    Bishop leaned his back to the cold tiled wall of the shower while Fallan stood beneath the spray, facing away from him. There was no way he could hide his hard cock—no way he wanted to, either. There was something about her that made him act differently, like when he’d told her he knew she wanted him. Although he sensed she did, he had no idea why he’d said so. That wasn’t his usual style. The lack of sex must be getting to him. The last time he’d had a ‘usual style’ was too far in the past to remember, and, if Fallan was under any illusion he didn’t want her , she’d only have to turn and face him and he wouldn’t have to say a fucking word.
    He took in the sight of her shapely arse and the way her thighs tapered to slim calves and even slimmer ankles. She had a good body on her, he’d give her that, and the glimpse he’d had of her tits when she’d climbed into the shower was all he’d needed to send his dick bolt upright.
    It wasn’t fair that men didn’t get to hide their arousal.
    Was she turned on with him in here with her? When he’d kissed her, she’d been breathless, clinging on to him as if they weren’t in any jeopardy at all, were just on a date where they’d progressed to the next level after dinner. Maybe the danger of their situation had made her needy…horny even. Who knew? He thought about that as she soaped herself, thick bubbles gliding over places he longed to touch himself.
    He never thought he’d wish he were lather.
    Could he fuck her knowing she might only allow him to through fear? Or, worse, to get him on side, make him drop his guard so she could slip away when he was having a weak moment? No, he couldn’t, no matter how much his cock protested now, throbbing like a son of a bitch, announcing that it needed touching, needed to be inside her.
    If she wanted a fuck, she’d have to ask for it, make it clear she was up for it. He’d laid the groundwork and it was up to her to start building the frame. If he pushed her he might lose her. That wasn’t something he fancied contemplating. She’d already got under his skin in a way no other woman had, and the thought of not fucking her left him oddly empty inside. He hadn’t felt like that since…well, in a long time.
    “I know you’re looking at me,” she said, tipping her head back so the water soaked her face.
    Yeah, he was looking at her all right—difficult not to when they were about two feet apart. Fuck, his bollocks ached.
    “And?” He waited for a typical female response—the kind he’d got from other women who’d wanted to get into his pants but denied it.
    “So stop it. I need to turn around so I can get my hair wet then wash it. You have to close your eyes.”
    “Do I now?”
    “Yes, you do.”
    “And you’re going to make me, how?”
    She tensed, her shoulders going rigid, fingertips appearing over her shoulders as she crossed her arms over her breasts. “I can’t make you. I just thought you might do the gentlemanly thing and give me some privacy, despite being in here with me, which, as I said before when I used the toilet, is a total violation.”
    “All right. Turn around.” He closed his eyes.
    “Have you closed your eyes?”
    “Yes.”
    “Because I don’t want to be turning around to find you gawping at me.”
    “You’re safe.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “What, am I sure I’ve got my eyes closed and I’m not staring at your sexy arse?