Temptress

18 - Cleo | Regret

Let's just say he didn't disappoint.

Wake the fuck up, Cleo. You hate him, he's your enemy.

I had to force myself to snap out of my thoughts and take a deep breath when Harry finally stood up from the bed, moving way quicker than I expected. I realized the knocking on the door had stopped and I watched as he straightened his white shirt, the bulge on the front of his pants was still very visible and I was trying not to think about how it felt pressed in between my thighs, right where I was throbbing because of the kiss.

But Harry actually walked across the room, grabbing his gun from the floor and making me mentally facepalm myself. What the fuck was I doing?

Of course he'd go grab the gun, he looked pissed. His sharp jaw was clenched and his green eyes looked nearly black because of how dilated his pupils were.

"Aren't you gonna get the door?" He asked simply, tucking the gun on the waistline of his pants before he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame his curls.

And now I knew how that felt because I actually pulled his hair... fuck, what had I done.

I cleared my throat, putting the bloody knife in my back pocket and rushing to the living room, trying to understand what was happening and why things were so fucking awkward when we were just trying to kill each other.

And we kissed.

I was so fucking stupid.

I didn't even bother to clean myself when I reached for a black shirt from my bag, noticing my other knives were missing.

Of course he took them, fucking great.

I tried to focus and think clearly, but it felt like someone had just thrown a fucking brick on my face all of a sudden.

After I covered myself, I finally went to the door and I unlocked it... and there was no one outside.

This hotel was practically a motel, despite the name, but it was late at night and the only thing I could see outside were three cars parked, besides my bike and the Tesla... I was sure that one belonged to Harry.

I was staying on the ground level, so I could easily see the empty street and the blinking sign with the establishment's name.

"Who the fuck knocked?"

Harry scared the shit out of me when he came up behind me, standing way too close when our shoulders brushed, and flashes of what just happened kept replaying in my head.

"There's no one." I sighed, turning to look at him.

What the fuck was I supposed to do now? He had his gun and I didn't have the element of surprise.. but I honestly had questions to ask him.

First, why did he think I set him up with the same list of targets when we hated each other and I literally didn't have a reason to suddenly go after him? Why did we have the same list at all?

Which client would do this? And for what reason besides messing with our heads and forcing us to be in the same place?

Shit, I actually wanted to talk to him about this, my brain was strangely calm now that the adrenaline was suddenly gone and I was able to think like a sane person. Whenever I was around Harry, it was hard to keep my thoughts in check.

"What is that?" His deep voice made me snap out of my thoughts as I was still holding the door open, and he reached his arm to grab a large envelope from the floor, right on top of the doormat.

His black fingernails contrasted with the white paper and he arched his eyebrows at me, showing me the envelope.

"I don't know what that is," I said.