Hit: A Thriller (The Codename: Chandler) by J.A. Konrath, Jack Kilborn, Ann Voss Peterson Read Free Book Online Page A

bit of aftershave, and that male smell that I knew was juiced with pheromones.
    Heath took my lower lip in both of his, gently, then worked over to the corner of my mouth. I turned my head to meet his, but then his lips were on my ear, and his tongue made the faintest trail down along my neck.
    Uh-oh.
    His lips brushed my chin, and his mouth opened, as did mine. My tongue rose to meet his, but didn’t find it—he’d pulled back. I watched his eyes twinkle in a smile, and then the sneaky little Latino somehow got one of his hands between my legs and began to gently caress me on the outside of my panties just as his tongue met mine with a palpable shock.
    My first instinct was to swat his hand away, but I stopped myself. Chandler might be uncomfortable with a move this forward, but Simone would be used to it. And I had to admit the more he caressed and kissed, the more I was beginning to enjoy being Simone.
    I couldn’t tell if he was better with his tongue or his fingers. The sensations of being explored in both places at once using the exact same motions were as powerful as they were confusing.
    I might have moaned a little.
    I might have pressed against him.
    I don’t know if it was the best first kiss of all time, but I would have nominated it for the semi-finals.
    And then I gave him a firm but harmless nip on his lower lip, causing him to pull back enough for me to say, “Okay, done.”
    He smiled, then did something outrageously erotic to me with his thumb. “Done? Your body does not seem to be done, Chiquita . It seems like a car just warming up.”
    I exercised a degree of self-control never before attained in all of female history and said, “The kiss is over, Heath. If you want more, you have to win.”
    “But I do want more.” He moved to kiss my neck again.
    I pinched his chest, hard. “Then play the game.”
    He went from Pepe le Pew eyes to Droopy Dog eyes, and then he had me twirled back to my feet like I was his tango partner. After holding my hand longer than needed, he picked up the cards.
    “My turn to deal,” I said, sitting down.
    “But lady luck was finally smiling upon me.”
    “Maybe she still will, with me dealing.”
    Again he placed his hands upon mine, stroking my wrist like he’d stroked me elsewhere. “If you deal, we raise the stakes. Five thousand dollars.”
    “Against what?” I asked.
    “A night with you.”
    “Do you even have five thousand dollars?”
    He shrugged. “We are going to Las Vegas. A man can get lucky, no?”
    I’d known few men like Heath.
    There were the hot and heavy wham-bam types. The shy ones who didn’t have a clue. The over achievers who went down on a girl for so long it became boring. The quick and the fat and the ones who couldn’t get hard.
    And then there were the kind who treated a woman like an expensive instrument to be played, a gourmet dish to be savored. The ones who truly loved to make love, in every possible sense of the term. They were the fun ones. The ones who made your heart flutter with a look. The ones who made you wet with a single kiss.
    Heath was a three day vacation in a ritzy hotel suite, stopping the sex only long enough for more room service champagne and strawberries. What he wasn’t was a man to fool around with on an op.
    I sometimes had sex on missions, but it was with the target, and although I was able to respond physically it was perfunctory at best. The goal was the hit, not the orgasm. This was a job. A job I was very good at. But I kept it separate from my private life, and never, ever mixed the two.
    Heath would have to be the one that got away. Or I’d have to kill him. Either way, our chance encounter wasn’t meant to end in a ritzy hotel suite.
    My mission, and my focus, was Bratton. And Bratton is where my attention would stay.
    “Agreed,” I said. Five grand didn’t mean much to me. I was well compensated for my service. But maybe it would be a big enough sum to knock the ardor out of the playboy