Oh, #WIP It Up Wednesday, it’s been too long! So glad to be hopping back into the blog hops each week. Why, hello lovelies! I’m especially excited because I’m working on the prequel book for ‘Lethal Sin‘, and it’s already dark, and twisted, and a lot of fun. If you’ve already read Lethal Sin you may have been a little curious about Camille’s sordid past, about how she got involved in the assassin game, which ultimately puts her on the path to collide with Mateo in the book. I was so caught up in Camille’s story myself that this prequel started flowing out. It’s not named yet, and I’m not sure when I’ll have it finished, but in this scene Smith has woken up before her, and we see he may not be as cool, calm, and collected as he’d like us to believe.
Looking over at C he knew she had been damaged by something beyond his understanding. She never spoke about it, never even hinted at it, not even when she woke them both up shouting and crying in her sleep. No, she was closed up tight, like a lockbox. Too strong for her own good, and it was eating her alive from the inside out.
What the hell had she wanted the gun for in the first place?
Why had she tracked him down at Bill’s?
Those questions kept him up at night. If it was just for the johns, he’d understand, but her tenacity to learn how to kill had never faded, even after she’d stopped turning tricks the night he’d taken her with him. Whoever had hurt her wasn’t a john. The street life had been the result, he was sure of that. So what was driving her?
She was feisty, and beautiful, and strong, and –
Smith forced himself out of bed as his cock kicked to attention, remembering her lithe body as she had run the obstacle course he had laid out for her the day before. Remembering the way she had moved on the rooftop, the feel of her soft skin under his hands as they had fought. Scrubbing his face he tried to wipe the images from his mind, and he found himself on the uncomfortable, stiff chair by the table in the living space of the hotel room. The crossword puzzle was under his hand and he dragged it into the dim light coming from the curtains, ignoring the rock hard flesh between his thighs.
“Alright, distraction time. A two-ton animal that can run 35 miles per hour…” he mumbled under his breath as he read, scanning the letters he’d filled in the day before, racking his brain, even as his thoughts wandered against his wishes.
C deserved so much better than him, than this life. She deserved a real life, a normal one, but he seemed to be the only person she had and she didn’t seem to want to be anywhere else. Worse, he didn’t want her to leave. Now, he couldn’t imagine coming back to an empty hotel room. A room with nothing but mindless television as company. No smiles for weeks at a time. No smart ass remarks to frustrate him and make his eyes roll. Just death, payday, death, payday, and more death.
A soft yawn broke the silence behind him. “Are you seriously doing the fucking crossword at six o’clock in the morning?”
“Yes.” He glanced over at her as she dropped onto the couch, her limbs all akimbo as another yawn nearly cracked her jaw. Too beautiful.
Smith is trying so hard to maintain that professional distance as he trains Camille, and while it’s a very good thing (at this point in the story) Camille definitely feels differently. Who wouldn’t want a hot, sexy, assassin teaching them? I’d sign up! Until the next bloghop (I post #WIP Wednesday and #SaturdaySpanks), check out these other sneak peeks below: