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By:Cherry Adair

She liked her sex exactly as he did. His dick was very excited by that. No! Cruz didn’t bother responding to her instructions as they passed the room to the left, kitchen to the right. The house smelled strongly of baked cookies, but this close to her, his senses were filled with the lush, creamy fragrance of tuberose and clean woman as she walked ahead of him, the taut curve of her almost naked heart-shaped ass swaying tantalizingly beneath the thin burgundy silk.

His heartbeat kicked up a few more notches, and his cock responded.

“Through here,” she said, a flush creeping up the back of her neck. Cruz realized, for all her sangfroid, Miss CEO was nervous. “I’m not sure of your company’s policy. Do I pay you half now and half afterward or all up front?” Her voice told him she considered this half risky. Still, she led him into the brightly lit kitchen without waiting for his response, then backed against the counter to face him.

He glanced around. Not at the crap décor, but to ascertain exits and hiding places. But the decoration was hard to miss. He was in a fucking time warp, circa 1950. Yellowing cabinets, beige Formica countertops, a peeling beige linoleum floor. None of which was enhanced by the giant butterflies in unnatural colors flying on every wall. The curtains sported surreal-looking sliced fruit. Three buckets, strategically placed to catch the rain, played musical notes as water dripped from the ceiling.

A round glass-topped table by the window was the only thing in the room from the current decade. A center island took up a good portion of floor space. A lead crystal vase filled with spiky purple flowers looked incongruous standing in the middle of the chipped countertop. Beside it several trays of cookies cooled. Very homey.

Stepping forward when he turned to face her, her pupils dilated as she realized how close he was. “I want to get the business end of this established befo—”

Bathed, perfumed, opening the door to a stranger—business. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who or what she thought he was. This was an interesting development. It seemed there’d be a bonus before the job.

Cruz had never had sex with a mark. Impersonal was a given in his line of work. But he had no qualms about fucking Miss CEO before he killed her tonight.

In one, quick, fluid motion, he wrapped his hands around her waist, lifted her, and planted her naked ass on the cold Formica countertop. She gasped, her expression indicating that the sound wasn’t due to the change of temperature on her ass but from the change of control.

Without giving her time to protest, he nudged her knees apart with his hips, then stood in the juncture of her thighs, pulling her forward so that she was unbalanced and had to grab his shoulders to maintain her precarious perch. Her lips parted as her lashes fluttered up and she stared at his mouth.

“Put your hands on the counter.”

She gave him a slightly dazed, questioning look.

“Now,” he snapped out like a lash, and waited, stone-faced, as she cautiously let go of him to place her hands beside her hips. The angle canted her shoulders forward. An awkward tilt of her body with a cabinet directly behind her head. Good. He wanted her off balance physically as well as emotionally.

He knew how to detach mentally. But it had never been this hard to do so. If he had the time or inclination, he’d tell her not to be fooled by any illusions that he was safe in any way.

He didn’t act like a badass. He was one.

The fingers of one hand curled, white-knuckled, over the metal edge of the countertop, the other she slapped against his chest as she said with authority, “Just a min—”

The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered, then started beating faster beneath her pale skin as he slowly untied the sash at her waist. “You’re the one who made the no-talking rule.” Cruz slowly slid the sash free from the loops, fascinated by how her nipples hardened beneath the thin layer of fabric as silk slid against silk. He wanted to put his mouth there, suck those peaks through the material. She’d said three minutes of nipple stimulation—he could probably make her come in less time with his mouth.

“Actually, I was telling you not to talk.” Sounding stiff and formal, she looked a little shell-shocked by the turn of events. “Before we get started, I’d like to establish those ground rules—”

Yeah, he bet she would. He gave her a thin smile. “I’ll let you know what those are when I’m done here,” he told her dryly, plucking her hand off his shirt and firmly placing it at her side. Gripping her hips, he tugged her even closer to the edge.

Spread open to him like a juicy feast, she offered him an up-close-and-personal view of her delicate pink folds as she listed forward. Cruz maintained eye contact as he let her ass teeter on the edge. “Stay still and you won’t fall.”