Free Beck: Hollywood Hitman by Maggie Marr Page A

. . I understand the need for closure, okay? I get how that can feel so important. “
    “Take Mr. Muscles with you. I mean, who knows what person is after Rico’s ass now? Last time it was his bad shit that got you hurt.”
    ***
    Hot water pelted Beck’s skin. Damn. Natalie’s eyes on him . . . This was the third time she’d watched him work out, and today Stacia had been in the audience. He didn’t work out to give Natalie a view, he worked out so his physical performance remained on point and he could protect her, keep her safe, keep himself safe. But her eyes on him were like a warm caress over his skin, and damn if he wasn’t starting to want that caress to be real.
    She tugged at him with her presence. He knew where she was nearly every minute of the day, but he also felt her presence. A connection he couldn’t ignore.
    What the hell?
    Had there been anyone he’d ever felt this connected to? Marisol? No, not even her. Their relationship had been based on a shared past and two good people stuck in a bad situation. He’d cared for her, loved her, but not felt this undeniable connection to her. Why Natalie? Why now? What a pain in his ass. Mistakes happened when want and need and emotion interfered with logic and calculated engagement.
    He dropped his head beneath the water and scrubbed his hands over his neck and face. Hadn’t he learned that tough lesson after the last mission? He’d let down his guard, allowed emotion into the equation, made himself and her vulnerable and been fucked.
    His hand rubbed soap over his chest. Natalie. Her gaze clung to him. Her body, her face, her eyes. He reached for his cock. Hard. So fucking hard. He hadn’t been hard much when he was in Club Crazy. Sex. Women. Pleasure, sensual or otherwise, had felt distant and impossible. Now the pinpricks of want bit into his flesh every damn day.
    Her body in those shorts, her eyes on him, her laugh, her smile, and the heat that pulsed between them. How long could they ignore this desire?
    For as long as it took.
    He pressed one hand to the marble wall beneath the showerhead and grasped his hard cock with his other. He needed the release, needed this moment. Needed to get the thoughts of her low-cut bikini top and that skin and thick hair and the legs he desperately wanted wrapped around his body out of his mind.
    He’d part those legs and pull each one over his shoulder. Kiss up the warm flesh of her thighs. His tongue sliding into her sweet folds. Forward and back over his cock, he pulled from base to end. Slow and steady. Her breasts, those taut nipples, sweet as sugar, in his mouth. His tongue lapping at her flesh and leaving hot trails of desire over her skin.
    His tongue circled her clit and pulled her deeper into his mouth. Her hips pulsed up and back, seeking him, wanting him deep inside her. The moan from her lips. His grasp grew harder around his cock and he quickened the piston action. He wanted to hear his name rush from her lips.
    He pulled harder. The image of Natalie splayed naked on the bed, ready and wet and willing and waiting for him to take her. The gorgeous flesh creamy and full of curves. His palm slid over her belly and up to her chest. He cupped her breast, leaned forward, and pulled her nipple deep into his mouth. Her head pressed back into the pillow and her breath short, her pulse like a hummingbird, excited and beating fast.
    Beck’s balls tingled and heat built in his low back, liquid fire ready to explode from his balls. Her mouth open, he hovered above her, weight on his forearms. Her gaze latched to his, with the same desire he’d seen in her eyes today. He slid deep into her pussy. Hot, tight, sweet pussy clasped around him. God, yes.
    His need to come built faster and faster, and he pulled hard on his cock and stroked with an insistent need for release. God, yes! He pulled faster and faster and harder and harder. The muscles in his legs tightened and the white-hot heat of come shot from his cock and