It’s time for #SatSpanks again and I’m still working on the prequel book for ‘Lethal Sin‘! 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 Camille ran into Smith back at their hotel room where she hadn’t expected him to be back from his last job. She has her own job to do, which means leaving no matter what Smith’s words promise.

—

Dropping onto the bed she pulled her shoes back on, and Smith appeared in the doorway. Still half-dressed, still impossibly gorgeous, and still completely uninterested in her. “You slept in my bed last night.”

The words froze her hands in place, mid-tie with the laces. Camille swallowed and kept her eyes towards the floor. “Uh, yeah. Won’t happen again.”

“I don’t care that you slept in my bed, I care that you apparently slept in my bed and then threw up in the trash can.” He blew out a breath and ran a hand across his face. “Did you get drunk last night?”

“Yep. I got fucking plastered, so sue me.” She stood up and faced him, lying through her teeth. “Mind getting out of my way?”

“Was it a nightmare?” There was a softness around his jade colored eyes as she met them, and that momentarily hurt worse than the accuracy of his question.

“Fuck off, Smith,” Camille growled under her breath as she brushed past him, but he caught her by the arm.

“Where are you going?” he asked, the softness bleeding into his voice. He was too close to her. Those quiet eyes boring holes through her, into her soul, and if she let him look too long he’d see everything. Every gory detail of her past – and then he wouldn’t want her around him.

Damaged goods.

“I’m going out.” Jerking her arm away from him she walked backwards towards the door. “You know, just because you show up early doesn’t mean I cancel all my fucking plans. I’ll be back later.”

“Your plans?” He lifted his eyebrows, a doubting expression.

“Yeah. My fucking plans.”

“Cancel them. I want you to stay here. Go get a late lunch with me.” Was that a pleading tone underneath the cold command in his voice? Where the hell had that come from? He stared at her from across the hotel room, a matter of feet that he could cover in a breath if he actually meant to stop her.

Does he want you? A flicker of hope burned hot for a moment until the memory of her nightmare destroyed it.

Fuck this. No. You don’t have time for this.

Joe.

Joe Wilson was waiting. Waiting for a bullet in the head, or a lung, and maybe a few to his dick, and that was more important than a half-dressed Smith asking her to stay for lunch.

“We don’t always get what we want,” she muttered and ripped open the door to the room, practically running into the hallway to get away from him. To get some space so she could think. Plan. Prepare.

This time she wouldn’t panic. She wouldn’t freeze. She would kill him.

—

Camille is single-minded and too driven for her own good. The consequences of this scene are… serious, but I’ll let you read to find that out! Until the next bloghop (I post #WIP Wednesday and #SaturdaySpanks), check out these other sneak peeks below: