Her Hollywood Hitman: A Dark Romantic Suspense by Imani King Read Free Book Online

curves of her breasts barely peeking over the edge of the coverlet. Long twisting curls still wet from the shower, spread out over my pillow, leaving winding trails of water on the white fabric. I sighed, glancing over at the pile of wet clothes on the bathroom floor. Her ripped green dress was draped over a chair, and her gold heels sat under it. I wasn’t exactly sure where her panties had gone, but I was sure I’d come across them at an inopportune moment.  

    The L.A. blondes didn’t leave so much of themselves after staying for a weekend. They were careful to leave a tip for the maid and sneak out before the sun had risen. But this girl. She left traces of herself wherever she went.  

    I walked out to my balcony and fumbled for my pack of cigarettes. They were mostly crushed and damp from being in my suit when I’d followed Gabriella into the shower. I laughed, pulling out the driest and stuck it between my teeth. I lit it and let the smoke blow over the city, adding to its strange and heavy air. The sun was rising over the hills in the distance, casting light over the shadowy buildings as they woke up. I hadn’t been up to see the sun rise in a long time. Normally I slept through it.

    I thought of the girl in my bed and how much I wanted her. Irrationally. Wholly. I took another drag of my cigarette, and that addictive ease came over me. I knew Art said he was Gabriella’s father, and he had been married to the Rose, but the pieces didn’t quite seem to fit. Maybe it was because she’d grown up with her mother. She’d taken on some of that same sensuality her mother was known for, and maybe she’d picked up a moral code along with it. A pang of longing hit me, and I looked back inside at the beautiful girl.

    The morning sun was just hitting her body, and the cover had slipped to reveal more of her skin. Her eyes fluttered open and she shielded herself from the growing light. I stubbed out the cigarette and left it in an ashtray, striding back inside. Gabriella sat up slowly, holding the sheet to cover her naked body.  

    “Smoking again?” Her voice came out in a rasp. She coughed. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time? Piss me off and I’ll run off and make you save me.”

    “Don’t joke about that,” I said, grabbing one of my white t-shirts and throwing it her way. “You scared the shit out of me.” She slipped the t-shirt over her head, letting the covers fall. I caught a glimpse of her breasts again, and my body thrummed, blood rushing to my cock. I looked away, fumbling for a clean pair of boxers that she could wear. I groaned, hyperaware of my body, thumbing the waistband of the boxer briefs I’d picked up. I thought of it, resting against her skin. I turned back and tossed them to her, turning away as she slipped them on.  

    “You handled it pretty well. I mean, you almost killed Clay. But he was definitely a dick.” She laughed, the sound of it sweet and airy. “But… uh… seriously, he could press charges.”

    “He won’t. He knows you’re Art’s daughter, and people don’t fuck with Art.” I turned back to her, watching as she pulled the underwear up over her supple ass. My stomach twisted. Everything in me wanted to go to her and hold her in my arms, take her and make her submit to me. She wobbled, nearly falling. I stepped over and caught her arm, holding her up again.  

    “Oh… uh thank you.” She looked up at me, those dark eyes rich with intelligence and depth. “What do you mean that ‘people don’t fuck with Art?’” I held her close, catching the scent of her hair. Something tropical. Coconut, flowers… as sweet and clean as the girl in my arms.

    “He’s well known as someone you don’t want to mess with. That Clay guy won’t want Art to know that he was… well I don’t know.” She pressed her body close to mine.

    “What do you mean?” she asked, her breath hot against my shirt.  

    “I don’t believe your dad would set you up