Last Kiss (Hitman #3) by Jen Frederick, Jessica Clare

this. I’m startled into silence.
    He’s still standing over my shoulder, rubbing my lock of hair slowly. He hasn’t moved. I think of him watching my breasts earlier, and his words about stroking his cock between my breasts. I think of the euphoric almost-anxiety-but-not I felt when he looked at me. It’s not something I feel often and it’s hard to put my finger on. I lick my lips, thinking of my shower. And I wonder what it will feel like if Vasily watches me while I bathe.
    I enjoy touching myself and getting clean. I love a scalding-hot shower. And a new, subversive hypothesis forms in my mind. Query: if Vasily gazing at my clothed breasts makes me feel breathless, will him gazing at my naked breasts induce a different physical reaction?
    Scientific theory always provides an interesting path to take, and I’m intrigued by where this could lead. I look up at Vasily again. When his gaze meets mine, I break contact and let my eyes focus elsewhere. “I need to shower. Do you want to watch?”

CHAPTER FIVE

    VASILY
    My hand drops from her hair and I turn her down. “Not tonight, Naomi. I think, perhaps, you should sleep now.”
    “So you don’t want to see me naked?” Frown marks crease her forehead. Her fake confusion generates a wild urge inside me to soothe her, to draw her down next to me on the sofa and rub away the furrows in her brow. The feelings and sensations she is eliciting are startling and unfamiliar.
    Impatient with her and myself, I speak to her more harshly than intended. “
Nyet
. Thank you for the invitation but I must decline.”
    I can see the words tumble inside her head as she debates how to respond, which only irritates me more. I do not need a conniving female on my hands thinking to seduce me. No matter that the thought crossed my mind earlier. My response to her was real and genuine. I am disturbed that she responds with calculation only.
    For hours, Naomi had forgotten everything outside of the keys of her laptop and the scrolling screen of black with green text. She tapped away at her screen and muttered how it was too small. When I suggested something larger, she ignored me. I brought her a sandwich but she pushed it away, muttering something about the red looking like blood. She would not eat it. Aleksei and I discuss that perhaps she is a vegetarian and Aleksei goes to speak to the chef. A cheese and avocado sandwich is returned. She eats the avocado and bread but nothing else.
    I make note of everything.
    Her actions toward me are now calculated. The tug on her shirt to reveal her breasts, the placement of her mouth over the glass where mine touched—all of it seems to be a ploy to garner a reaction. The shower invitation is yet another part of a game she is playing.
    But I am still tempted.
    “You are—what would you say? Trying too hard,” I respond. Even to my ears, I sound petulant and accusatory. A child, not a man. Rising from the sofa, I try for a more modulated tone. “I think we are both too tired for bedroom antics tonight, Naomi.” With that, I turn and walk toward the third bedroom. The diplomatic suite had been mine, but Naomi seems to prefer it and the view. Why not simply accede to her requests in this matter?
    “It’s the bathroom.” Her statement stops me short.
    “It is what?”
    “I’m not asking you to watch me in the bedroom. That’s a different room. I invited you to watch me shower. There’s water. A toilet. Also nice-smelling things. Steam. It’s a different environment. Environments can result in differing outcomes. I’m not interested in the bedroom currently but I may be later. What is it aboutthe bedroom you prefer? You mentioned the bedroom earlier. Is that more conducive to watching things?”
    Her words have caught me off guard and worse, I begin to imagine things such as Naomi’s ample breasts being caressed by her own hands as she massages oils and lotions and soaps into her skin. It takes little effort to visualize the water