I gotta admit.  I fell for Gus.  Hard.  He’s trying so hard to protect this kid, trying so hard not to fall for Vaughnne.

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Shit.

Vaughnne should have taken those thirty seconds to breathe, she decided, because now it was too late.

His mouth, brutal and hungry, crushed down on hers. She went to shove him away, but he caught her hands and, in a blink, had them pinned at her back. His tongue probed at her lips and the need to open for him almost sent her to her knees. Well, it might have, except his body was pressed to hers. Long, lean, and powerful, and so amazing.

Against her belly, her chest, she felt the hard wall of his chest, the muscled plane of his belly . . . and, oh, hell.

The ridge of his cock pressed against her and any thought of self-preservation went out the window. She opened for him, and as his tongue swept into her mouth, she welcomed it with a greedy moan.

He stilled, for just a second, and then lifted his head, staring at her through slitted eyes. She licked her lips and watched him, breathing raggedly. “If that’s supposed to make me run for cover, sugar, they taught you some crazy shit down there in Mexico,” she said.

The room spun around them and she sucked in a breath right before he slammed her against the cool, hard wood of the bathroom door. The bruises on her body screamed out at her. The need inside her body screamed louder, and she reached up, curled her hands into his shirt. “That’s not doing it, either, Gus.”

He closed one hand around her throat, pressing his thumb lightly.

It didn’t hurt.

But the threat was obvious.

Something dark, dangerous glinted in his eyes. “If I told you that I’ve killed some of your fellow agents, would you still be laughing at me, Vaughnne? Still be taunting me?”

Some of the heat inside her eased back, but she didn’t look away. “I’m pretty sure I’m familiar with what an assassin is. You’ve killed. So have I. I’m still not running.”

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