Kidnapped By A Hitman [BoyxBoy] ✓

MATT S. [7]

I'm going to die.

That was the first thing that came into my mind when the mysterious man said my name and something about his boss. I panicked. It's pathetic for a guy to panic but could I be blamed? Any guy would freak knowing the Mafia was after them and since they knew who they were, anything could happen to their family.

I was too busy freaking out I didn't have time to even realize if the guy talking was the same one from the parking lot in Burger King. Now I was sitting on the passenger seat with my eyes closed too ashamed to open my eyes and I knew that the moment I looked at Neil I'd remember the kiss.

His lips were hot and smooth, kissing me so passionately, his hands were large and calloused but gentle. I forced the image away and shook my head after opening my eyes reluctantly gazing at Neil. He was still wearing those spectacles, making his jawline sharper; my fingers twitched at the urge to touch the jaw—feel his tawny skin.

"You're staring, Matt. It's getting hard to believe I'm not your type when you're looking at me like that." His deep voice brought a shiver of delight down my spine. I blinked, heat rushed to my face for the up tenth time—cringing my nose, "Shut up, you're not my type." I grumbled, biting my lower lip.

Neil glanced at my direction and cocked an eyebrow, "Do you even have a type?"

The blush didn't subside as I shrunk myself more onto the seat with a small pout. Lips stretched onto a smile, honey brown orbs glinting in his own sick amusement. "That's none of your business."

"So, that's a no," He intoned, "How cute."

I glowered, "I'm not 'cute'. Stop calling me 'cute' goddamn it, you really piss me off." I snapped, frowning in anguish; there wasn't a single moment when he didn't piss me off. There was nothing cute about me and I bet he just kissed me to mess with me. He shouldn't have done it to begin with, it's not like I had feelings for him or anything.

I mean, I admit he's hot, attractive, strong, smart, annoying, scary, skillful, and a flirt. His dark locks were framing his face which was then swept and tamed but now was cut and dyed to ginger brown. Honey brown eyes that glinted in promised death, glistened in amusement and softened when gazing at me. His lips pulled into a frown, a smile, a smirk, or curled in anger.

His tawny skin—tan with flecks of gold to it, shimmering when the sun bathed him in light. More often than not I wondered what he looked like underneath all those clothes, how it would be like to run my hands over his muscles, trace the lines and curves, feel them tighten up, twitch, and just relax all at once. He was tall, so damn tall and it annoyed me but graced me with long muscular legs by his jeans.

"Here I thought we were getting somewhere," He spoke in a singsong tone, "You know, after that kiss and all."

A dark blush crawled from my neck, up my cheeks, and to the tip of my ears; I wish he'd stop teasing me. "That kiss doesn't mean anything." I unintentionally squeaked as if it was going to help the situation at all. Neil rolled his eyes, "That's great, deny it, pretty boy. I don't just kiss random people." He stated.

I scoffed trying to recover from the blush, "Believe me, I'm far from random."

"Exactly. You're really slow at things aren't you?"

"What? No! What the hell are you talking about?" I frowned in confusion as he merely shook his head at me without saying another word. I wasn't slow, I'm always perceptive about things that are going on—well at least I thought I was because clearly, I wasn't sharp enough to avoid getting kidnapped. I grunted to myself, my fingers brushed over the collar around my throat and felt the smooth, glass-like black fingerprinting device at the center of it.