This twisted, tortured mess
This bed of sinfulness
Who's longing for some rest
And feeling numb
He aimed the rifle, she was in his sights. The target. That's all she was to him. No name, no explanation. Simply eliminate her. No questions asked.
Yet something stirred deep inside the man known as The Asset. A ruthless assassin. Killing machine. Brainwashed, twisted mess. This beautiful woman, what could she have done wrong?
He closed his eyes and inhaled.
Take the shot. Finish the mission. And maybe, just maybe they wouldn't torture him this time. He needed to succeed.
What do you expect of me?
What is it you want?
Whatever you've planned for me
I'm not the one
The feeling wouldn't go away. No matter what, no matter how much he tried to focus his mind. No tunnel vision with this one. No, she was different.
"Pulling back," he barked into his comm device. "Target not accessible."
It was a bold faced lie and the soldier didn't care.
He knew he'd failed, but it was worth it. She hadn't been harmed, at least not by him. He couldn't get her out of his mind, locked inside his small room. Something was bubbling just beneath the surface.
He wanted her.
A vicious appetite
Visits me each night
And won't be satisfied
Won't be denied
So he watched and waited.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. She'd become an obsession for him. What would she think? Would she run? Would she be afraid? Or could she see beneath the surface, to the man underneath.
She turned her head, her eyes widened a bit inside the dark building. He stood close, just beyond the hallway. His eyes were trained on her, the way she moved. She fascinated him. It was almost graceful.
Pulling her to him, his hand covered her mouth. She tried to fight, eventually realizing he was much too strong.
"What do you want?," she breathed once he moved his hand, his lips just inches from her neck.
"You."
It was low, dangerous. And the sound she made caused him to twitch in his pants.
That was certainly new.
An unbearable pain
A beating in my brain
That leaves the mark of Cain
Right here inside
She reached down, pulling the small pistol from her boot, getting from his grip and pointed it at his face. He didn't flinch, in fact, he'd expected it.
"I know who you are, Asset."
His tongue darted out, licking his dry lips. She had no fear of him and it only excited him more.
"I'm used to staring down the barrel of a gun, sweetheart."
Her nostrils flared and she narrowed her eyes. What was his game exactly? Why did he have such a pull over her.
"They've been looking for you," she told him, "the others. The ones on the bridge."
"Steve."
His eyes narrowed back at her. "Why me?" He felt nerves for the first time and she kept the gun pointed at his face. "Doesn't matter. Now...," she whispered, "what do you want?"
"I told you."
She couldn't deny the feeling she felt. It excited her too. She lowered the gun carefully and he gripped her wrists, pinning her against the wall, his breathing ragged. She was even more beautiful up close.
"You've watched me."
He nodded, finding the zipper of her jumpsuit and pulling it down slowly. Only inches away from her, he could feel her heavy breath on his skin. Her breasts heaved and his eyes were locked to them for a long moment.
"I've wanted you. For so long."
What am I supposed to do
When everything that I've done
Is leading me to conclude
I'm not the one?
"Why me?"
He stared at her, unable to look away. How could she not see how perfect she was?
"Because you made me feel...something."
It was simple. Honest. And she kissed him.
His lips molded with hers, his hands touching every part he reach. It was quick, filthy. Tongues and teeth, hands everywhere. He growled against her neck and lifted her up.
Pulling himself quickly from his tactical pants, he wasted no time pushing into her waiting heat. That was a feeling he could get used to again.
Whatever I've done
I've been staring down the barrel of a gun
It was fast, neither one lasting. The attraction was deniable, yet both knew it couldn't last.
She redressed and pointed the gun at him again, causing him to chuckle.
"We're back to this?," he teased but her expression was cold, unchanging.
"You're my mission, Barnes."
Whatever I've done
I've been staring down the barrel of a gun
