We clung together, panting, as he grew soft inside me, and he slowly lowered my feet to the ground.
As though we both suddenly came around to the reality of what we had just done, an awkwardness settled between us. X stepped from me and tucked himself away, while I quickly yanked up my panties and jeans and shoved my foot back into my sneaker. I was aware we'd wasted precious time we didn't have, and guilt washed over me. What if something awful had happened to Nickie while I was eating burgers and getting screwed by some guy up against a truck? I felt so bad, I couldn't even look at X.
"Are you okay?" he asked, reaching out to touch my arm. I flinched, but it didn't have to do with him. My reaction was down to my own self-loathing. "I'm sorry," he continued. "I don't know what came over me."
"Me either," I replied brusquely. I checked the cell phone which miraculously had stayed in my back pocket while my jeans had been around my ankles. I was relieved to see the screen blank, and not showing any missed calls. If I hadn't noticed Nickie's abductor calling while we were f.u.c.king, I'd never have forgiven myself.
His c.u.m wet the inside of my panties, seeping through to the crotch of my jeans. I would have liked to take a shower and change, but there was nothing I could do about that now.
I'd dropped the bag containing the guns. Stupid. So stupid. I should never let my guard down like that. Anyone could have taken aim at us and killed us on the spot, and we'd barely have noticed the shot.
"We need to go." I picked up the bag and found the keys for the truck. I hit the b.u.t.ton to open the internal locking. X cast me a glance, and I deliberately ignored the confusion and hurt in his face. A guy like him would go around nailing whatever women he came across. This was just another notch on the bedpost. I doubted he even had real emotions-he was a hired killer, after all.
Hired to kill me.
And I'd just had s.e.x with him.
Chapter Twenty.
X.
I watched Vee get into the car as though nothing had happened.
I guessed I couldn't blame her. She'd just had s.e.x with the guy her father had sent to kill her. I wasn't exactly perfect boyfriend material. But the instant regret I'd seen in her eyes had felt like she'd stabbed me all over again.
My wounds throbbed afresh; the physical effort I'd put into the act was not playing nicely with the healing process. I should have been resting, or seeing a doctor, not chasing down gangsters and f.u.c.king hot, tattooed girls with sad, dark eyes up against the side of a truck.
Climbing into the pa.s.senger seat, I tried not to notice how Vee stared straight ahead, acting as though I wasn't even there. She started up the vehicle and backed it out of the spot behind the diner and into the parking lot. She spun the
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