Stalking His Assassin

Chapter 5

five

GRACE

"What am I going to do?"

Potato meows from my bed, watching me pace like a maniac. After leaving Christos in the guest room, I locked myself in my room. I spent several minutes silently panicking before I started ranting at my cat.

This is so not me.

I don't panic.

I don't do emotional outbursts.

I don't feel these feelings.

What feelings, you ask? Ones that have my girly bits shouting that just because I've lived a celibate life—for many reasons—I am still very much a sexually healthy woman, and Christos is the hottest man that ever walked the planet.

"Seriously. If ever there were a time where you could impart some great wisdom, now would be the time, Potato."

He meows as he usually does when I talk to him. It doesn't make me feel better like it normally would. I can't even pretend he understands what I'm saying normally. I take a deep breath and imagine the air flowing through my body like when I meditate. It helps calm me enough to decide there's nothing else to be done tonight.

Now that I've decided to ignore my problems like a fucking adult, I strip down and take a long hot shower. Despite my exhaustion, I know sleep will be impossible with Christos down the hall. No one has ever spent the night in my home before. Harper has stayed late for movie nights but always goes home because, like the best friend she is, she just knows that a sleepover isn't something I'm comfortable with. Now, I have the object of my obsession down the hall, and he's here for an indeterminate amount of time.

Fucking Tomas.

I finish my shower and pull on a pink with white polka dots pajama set. Like all my other sets, it's made of the softest cotton and makes me feel girly. I climb into bed and do my best to clear my mind. Potato curls up against me and purrs. I stroke his soft fur, contemplating what I should do about Christos.

The smartest two options are pretty dramatic as far as reactions go: I can eliminate the threat and kill Christos and Tomas and just hope that Tomas didn't tell anyone else my location so that I can live here as Grace in peace, or I can do to Grace what I did to Lucy. That option isn't appealing because that means losing Harper.

Not to mention the headache of dealing with Shield. I would have to fabricate a sale of the company to some brilliant investor. I would no longer be able to personally handle anything because everyone at the company knows Grace Silva. As far as I'm concerned, that's not a viable option. Losing my only friend isn't something I'm willing to do.

A little voice that sounds like my conscience—something I haven't heard in years—whispers that I would never kill Christos either. The unfeeling assassin part of me scoffs at that thought, but deep inside, I know it's right. For better or worse, I won't be killing Christos Caputo.

Part of me wishes I would have just killed him in that alley four years ago. I wouldn't be dealing with all these messy feelings right now if I had. I've had a sentimental soft spot for the man since I met him as a young girl. A stupid childish crush on someone who was kind to me at a time when kindness didn't exist for me.

Potato keeps purring my favorite broken purr as I pet him, my thoughts slowly stop racing, and I succumb to sleep.

I'm unsure what alerts my subconscious that I'm no longer alone in my bedroom. The room is still dark and completely silent, but instinctively I know someone is in here with me. I breathe deep and slow, mimicking sleep as I try to determine the intruder's position in the room. I feel the air shift above me, and I react. In less than five seconds, I have the intruder pinned beneath me with my knife to his throat. It only takes a second for me to realize my intruder is Christos.

"What are you doing in here?" I snap angrily, putting a little more pressure on his throat with the knife.

"You said I could go anywhere except your office." I don't know how I know it, but I can tell he's smiling as he uses the vague invitation to my home against me.

"It's implied that my bedroom is off limits also."

He hums, and I can feel the vibrations from his chest vibrate against my core in the most distracting way. I shift my position so that I'm no longer straddling his chest, and my knees aren't pinning his shoulders down. He grips my hips in his big hands, holding me in place.

"Are you going to hold that knife to my throat all day?" he asks, sounding utterly unbothered that he's being threatened with death.

"What if I do?"

His hands skate up my sides, slipping his fingers just under my shirt so he's touching my bare skin. His hands are so warm, and when he gently strokes my skin with his thumbs, I swear I feel it in my entire body. No one has ever touched me like this, and I have no idea how I feel about Christos being the one to do it.

I know it's an innocent touch. There's nothing overtly sexual about it, but my body is buzzing like he's stroking my nipples. I've masturbated plenty of times, and it feels nice, but I've never been able to bring myself to orgasm. This simple touch has me more turned on than I've ever been. His grip tightens, stilling the movements I didn't realize I was making.

Jesus. I can't believe I was just shamelessly rubbing myself on him. I'm very grateful that it's dark in here because there is no way I can hide the embarrassment that's painted all over my face.

"Sorry," I murmur, my voice little more than a whisper. I pull the knife away from his neck and move to get off him, but he doesn't release his hold on me.

"Don't apologize for rubbing that hot little pussy on me, little wolf. You're testing my self-control, and I know you're not ready for everything I want to give you." His voice is a sexy growl that sends a shiver of desire down my spine.

"You can't talk to me like that," I say, breathless.

One of his hands trails up my back, his calloused palm softly abrading my skin in the most delicious way. I'm completely distracted by his touch, which is the only reason he's able to gain the upper hand and flip me onto my back. I gasp when I feel his hard length press against my core. My thighs tighten around his hips, and it takes every bit of my control to not rock against him to chase the pleasure I instinctively know he can give me.

The tingles and desire I'm feeling are nothing like what I've felt when I've touched myself. Being touched by Christos is electric. I want more of his touches. My rational side is screaming to stop this and show him I'm in control. No one makes me submit, but my body is practically vibrating with the need to give myself over to his dominance. Being under him like this is a revelation. It's freeing in a way that it shouldn't be.

He leans forward, breathing me in. I feel the barest brush of his nose along my neck as he slowly works his way up to my ear. His hot breath tickles, adding more sensation to this overwhelming moment.

"I think you like how I talk, little wolf. Your cunt is so wet you're soaking me through our clothes."

He nips my earlobe, and I gasp. "Christos…"

"Hmm…"

His lips move across my skin in a feather-soft touch that's driving me to madness, then they're hovering over my lips, and I desperately want him to kiss me. I need it like I need my next breath. I never thought I would want this from anyone. Never thought I would trust someone enough to let go. The years of playing cat and mouse with him have smoothed the way, allowing me to trust Christos. Because I do trust him.

I just hope it doesn't get me killed.

"What do you want, little wolf?"

I lift my lips to his, but before they connect, he pulls back, denying me.

"I want the words," he commands.

"Kiss me. Please. I want you to kiss m?—"

Before I can finish begging, his lips crash against mine in a searing kiss. I feel clumsy since this is my first-ever kiss, but he doesn't seem to mind. His tongue slicks over my bottom lip, and I part mine with a gasp that turns into a needy moan when his tongue dips inside to stroke over mine. It's a delicious, wet glide that is better than anything I have ever imagined. Now I know why Harper dumped Andy for being a bad kisser; kissing is amazing.

I drop the knife in favor of burying my fingers in Christos's hair. It's the first time I've willingly disarmed myself when faced with potential danger. Right now, the danger isn't a threat against my life, more a threat against my sanity because, with every drag of his tongue over mine, I'm growing closer to spontaneous combustion.

My lips are tingling, my nipples are hard peaks that are begging for attention, and my pussy is wetter than it has ever been. I have no thoughts in my mind other than how to feel more. I wrap my legs around Christos and moan at the way his hard length presses against my pussy.

"Naughty girl," he growls against my lips making me shiver. "Such a needy little thing."

"Please…" I mewl, rocking up against him, seeking more.

"You want me to make you come, little wolf?"

"God, yes."

He pulls away from me, and I whimper at the loss of his weight over me.

"I'm only giving you one chance to change your mind. Once I make your pretty pussy come, you're mine. Do you want that, little wolf? Do you want to be mine?"

I try hard to think why I wouldn't want to be his. Of course, I want this. Want him. My body has completely overridden all logical thought. There's no overthinking everything and no analyzing all the possible outcomes, not when this feels inevitable. Us ending up like this feels right. I'm terrified to think too hard about it right now, though. The thought that I'm ready to surrender to Christos makes me vulnerable, and I don't do vulnerable.

He cups my face and runs his thumb over my cheek.

"Just say the word, and this stops," he says with the kind of tenderness that's never been directed toward me by anyone.

A fission of panic cuts through my heart at his words. "I don't want to stop," I say in a rush.

The weight of him returns all at once. His lips devour mine, making our kiss from before seem like a platonic little peck. Every slide of his tongue comes with a thrust of his hips that has his dick rubbing against my pussy. If I wasn't wearing shorts right now, my thighs would be soaked with my arousal. With how Christos is pressed against my core, there's no way the front of his underwear isn't soaked as well. The idea of him being wet with my juices has me grinding my hips against his every movement. I want to rub myself all over him. Claim him like he's claiming me.

Everything we're doing feels so damn good, but I want more. He breaks our kiss to trail kisses down my neck to my chest. He reaches the top of my tank and stops. Before I can complain, he literally rips it from my body. I should be outraged, but it's so fucking sexy, and I don't care if he rips every shirt in my closet off me.

He cups my breasts, teasing the tips with his thumbs. I arch my back into his hands, wanting more. I feel like this whole moment is nothing but me wanting more. Then his lips tease my nipples in the most delicious way. I didn't realize how sensitive my nipples are. He licks and sucks first one nipple then the other. I feel an echo of pleasure with every lick and suck in my clit.

I grind against him, chasing that elusive orgasm. I want it bad, and I know Christos can give it to me. His mouth descends, kissing and nipping down my stomach until he reaches the waist of my sleep shorts. He quickly pulls them off, leaving me completely bared to him. I'm disappointed that it's so dark in here. I want to see him. Watch everything he's doing to me. Next time, I'll make sure the lights are on so I can see it all.

His hands trail up my legs in a sensual caress, dragging out the anticipation. He pauses when he touches the bandage on my thigh.

"Why didn't you tell me you're hurt?" he growls.

"It's nothing. Please don't stop."

"I'm not stopping, little wolf. I'm going to eat your sweet pussy until you soak my face with your come while you tell me about this," he says, circling the edge of the bandage as if he's trying to gauge how injured I am.

My heart clenches at his concern. No one has ever worried about my injuries before. It should make me uncomfortable because he knows I have a weakness, but it doesn't. I find that I want to tell him about it. I want him to show me that he cares.

He spreads my thighs wide, being careful with my injured leg. If I'm being honest, it's sort of fucking with my head to try and fit this caring man in the same shoes as the ruthless assassin that's been obsessed with catching me for years. I don't have time to contemplate more because his mouth is on me.

He's not tentative with his touches. He dives into my pussy like he's devouring his favorite treat. His tongue circles my clit, then plunges inside me so he can fuck me with it. It feels unbelievably amazing. The scruff of his beard adds another layer of sensation to the pleasure he's giving me. I'm moaning and practically humping his face like I'm in heat. He pulls away, and I whine.

"Don't stop!" I shout, outraged because I was so close.

"Tell me about the bandage, or I'll stop," he threatens.

He goes back to licking circles around my clit, and I sigh in relief. He gives my uninjured thigh a little slap, reminding me to talk.

"S-stab wound," I stutter.

He rewards my words by sucking my clit between his lips, lashing it with his tongue. "Oh God… German soldier…" I gasp, trying to earn my pleasure. "K-killed him with…" I moan when he runs his teeth over my sensitive nub. "…h-his knife."

"Good," he growls. The vibration on my clit causes me to shudder.

Christos slides a thick finger inside me at the same time as he sucks again, and I detonate. The orgasm explodes through me like a million fireworks filling the night sky. His finger pumps into me while he laves my clit with his tongue, drawing out my pleasure until I swear I might die if he keeps going, or maybe I'll die if he stops.

He slows his ministrations as my orgasm fades, soothing me down from the intensity. He presses a kiss right above my pussy, then lays beside me. My breathing is still erratic while my body buzzes from such an intense release. Christos pulls me against his body, arranging me so our legs are tangled together, and my head is resting over his heart. I swear it's beating as fast as my own.

I run my palm down his muscular chest, loving the feel of his warm skin. When I get to the band of his underwear, he grabs my wrist stopping me. I pull against his hold, wanting to make him feel good too.

"Naughty girl. I didn't give you permission to touch my cock."

"I want to give you pleasure too."

He moves our hands to rest on his chest. He doesn't release his hold. Probably not trusting me to behave, which is fair because I tend to take what I want when I want it.

"Not tonight, little wolf. You're not ready yet."

"But—"

He slaps my ass, cutting my protests off. "I'm in charge. Be my good girl and let me hold you while we sleep."

My pussy clenches at his calling me a good girl. Never would have guessed I had a praise kink. It seems I'm learning a lot about myself tonight. I like Christos taking control and making me submit, and I like his praise. Not to mention, I love how warm and safe it feels to be held by him like this. This entire night is proving to be a mindfuck.

His fingers draw gentle patterns on my back, lulling me into a deep sleep.