I was going to say I can’t be reasonable about wearing someone else’s clothes, but the arm on the back of the seat hooks around my shoulders, and Hans presses his hand over my mouth.
“You are going to listen to me for one fucking second before you finish that sentence. The backpack is full of your clothes, Cassandra Lynn. Your actual clothes.” My eyes widen. “I’m a sick fuck. I’ve crossed some pretty big lines when it comes to you. I won’t pretend otherwise. And I never wanted to drag you into the mess that is my life, but I still wanted to have you.” He uses his hold on me to pull me into his side. “I wanted to fucking keep you, Butterfly, from the moment I met you. And on the off chance something like tonight happened, I needed to be prepared. So, yeah, I took a few of your things. But now you have what you need.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “So be a good girl for me and find something to put on. Or don’t.” He shrugs against me. “You’re a beautiful woman. People won’t question what you’re wearing. But I’m a big creepy dude. If I showed up dressed in tactical black, dragging a girl like you behind me, people would assume I’m one of the trafficking assholes I’ve dedicated my life to killing.”
I reach up and gently touch the hand over my mouth.
Hans takes another big breath. “Please don’t ever tell me you can’t.”
Twisting into him, I dislodge his hand and wrap my arms around his body. It’s an awkward way to hug someone. But… I have to do it.
Please don’t ever tell me you can’t.
He thought I was going to say I can’t be with him. That I can’t stay. That I can’t do this.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
The only thing I can’t do is give him up.
For a year, I’ve been dreaming of what it would be like to have his attention. And it turns out I have all of it.
Now I can’t settle for anything less.
Hans presses his arm against my back, holding me to him.
“You’re not creepy.” I sniff into his side. “Even if you were stalking me.”
“It was hardly stalking.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my head.
“You just said that backpack is filled with my clothes.” I try to look up at him.
Hans presses his hand to the back of my head, keeping it against his body. “It was more like watching over you.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
“Do you have any idea how many times you left with your back door unlocked? Or fell asleep with your ground floor windows open?”
I bite my lip, thinking of the times I thought I did that but then would wake up to everything locked up tight. I figured I was just losing my memory. “That was you?”
“Or the times you left for work with your hair thing plugged in.”
“Hair thing?” I try to lift my head again, but he doesn’t let me. “My blow dryer?”
“Yeah, that.” Our bodies shift together as he takes an exit. “It’s a miracle you made it into adulthood.”
“Hey!”
“That gray hair your parents have, I bet that’s all from you.”
“I’m not that bad.” I huff.
“You are,” he argues.
I try to pinch his side, but his body is too firm.
His hand leaves my head, then there’s a smack against my ass, the cheek exposed with the way I’m twisted.
I let out a squeaky sound.
Hans’s hand moves back to my head too quickly for me to sit up.
“Pretty sure the gray hair I have is because of you too,” he gripes.
“Those are probably because you’re so old,” I grumble, feeling defensive.
Another smack to my ass.
“Hans!”
He’s too quick, back to pinning me.
But I know how to play dirty.
I lift my hand like I’m going to try and push myself away from him, but instead, I lower it right over his dick.
CHAPTER 72
Hans
The warmth of her hand mixed with the pressure of her palm has my cock hardening the rest of the way.
“Dammit, Butterfly.” I lift my knee to hold the wheel, then press my left hand down on top of hers.
I need more pressure. I need all of her.
She nuzzles into my side. “Did you really break into my house?”
Is it breaking in when you have a key?
“Did you really not know?” I ask instead of answering, even though I already admitted the truth.
Cassandra shakes her head, but the movement slows. “Sometimes, I’d swear I could smell you.” She moves her hand beneath mine, massaging my length.
I shift my hips. “Smell me?”
“Yeah.” She turns her head into my body and inhales. And it lights me on fire.
She knew what I smelled like.
I have to lift my hand back up to the steering wheel to take a turn.
We’re close to the hotel now. So close. But I can’t get there quick enough.
“What do I smell like?” I’m doing my best to watch the road and not nut in my pants, so my voice is strained.
“Like pine trees.” She breathes me in again. “And man.”
I grunt, spotting the sign for the hotel ahead.
I slide my hand down Cassandra’s back and pat her ass. “We’re here.”
Her fingers squeeze me through my pants one last time, then she sits up. And I allow it.
Cassandra looks over at the backpack filled with her clothes. “I forgot to change.” She starts to dig through the clothes I’ve selected, then slowly turns to me, lifting out a pink lace thong and matching bra. “Do you know how long I looked for these? I wore them like once, and then, poof, they disappeared. I thought I was going crazy.”
I lift a shoulder. “Oops.”
“Oops?” She lets out a snort. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
Cute?
She stuffs the underwear back in the bag and zips it up.
“Guess I’m crazy too,” she mumbles.
“You’re not crazy.” I feel unreasonably angry hearing her say that about herself.
Flipping on my blinker, I turn into the parking ramp just before the hotel. They have valet parking, but I don’t let other people drive my truck.
Cassandra turns to me and lifts a brow. “No? I killed a man tonight.” She ticks the points off her fingers. “You have a room in your basement full of weapons and cameras aimed at my house. I watched you throw a dead body over a fence in the middle of nowhere. You’ve admitted to stalking me. You followed me to Mexico, where I saw you kill two men, but I know you killed more. Raging jealousy had me ready to fight more than one woman tonight. And now I’m happily going with you to a hotel for the night rather than calling the police, like I probably should have when I first shot that arrow.” I don’t like this list. “Oh, and I gave a fake witness testimony to the Mexican police.”
I glance at her as I drive through the rows of parked cars. “Fake testimony?”
Her fingers play with the strap of the backpack. “I said you had blue eyes and black hair.”
I back into an empty spot, then turn to look at her. “Why would you do that?”
She bites her lip in that way that makes my blood heat. “I wasn’t positive that it was you, but I was pretty sure. And… I didn’t want them to find you.”
I turn off the engine and stare at her.
It’s been twenty years since I’ve loved someone.