by Rachel Shane
“I do.” He steps closer to me, his body heat radiating. He wears an almost animalistic gaze as his hungry eyes meet mine.
Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the latent desire pulsing in my core, but I throw my arms around his neck and coax his body into movement. “Are you having fun yet?” I whisper against his neck.
“Getting warmer.” He clutches my waist and the room disappears. The whole world disappears. The only thing that’s left is his hands on me and the heat swirling in my veins.
We rock together to the beat and with each revolution of our hips, our bodies move even closer. His knee slides between my legs. My cheek presses against his. Our torsos interlock. I can feel his pulse zipping beneath my fingers and I know he can hear the audible moan I let out when he trails his hands up my sides. Fire and warmth radiate from his touch. “How about now?”
“Not quite there yet.” His memorizing gaze traps me, rendering me powerless against the tingles that ignite beneath his forbidden fingers. I clutch desperately at the back of his shirt, clinging on for dear life. We sway to the music, but there’s a different kind of dizziness blotting out all thought except one: closer. I need him closer.
There’s a desperate ache between my legs that’s almost unbearable.
God, this is wrong. This is so damn wrong.
But damn, it feels so right.
CHAPTER SIX
We stumble up to his back entrance, giggling and clutching at each other. Our hands haven’t left each other’s bodies in some capacity since we started dancing, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Colby tonight, it’s that he’s a perfect gentleman. A frustratingly perfect gentleman. Though it’s probably a good thing he didn’t try to kiss me. I would have had to stop him. I can’t kiss the guy I’m planning to screw over.
A dim porch light illuminates the two keypads resting beside his door, the ones that Galina shielded her hand in front of to prevent me from getting a glimpse, but Colby doesn’t take such precautions. He punches in his entry code in full view and does the same with the alarm code. 0330. 0719. The numbers stick to my tongue like peanut butter and I repeat them over and over like a mantra until they’re engraved in my brain, a part of me now. I don’t need to snoop when he’s home. Now I can have full reign of searching his house as soon as he’s out.
That thought sends a little thrill through me.
Ever since the dance, there’s been an electric connection crackling between us, a spark that blazes through me, growing hotter and hotter. Neither of us dares to speak, as if words might put voice to what we shouldn’t be feeling. Or thinking. Or doing. There’s a spell in the air and we can’t risk breaking it.
Inside his house, the only light comes from beneath the cabinets in the kitchen. Sounds magnify in the darkness, turning my beating heart into the detonation of a bomb. My keys glint on the countertop where I’d left them earlier. Colby follows my gaze to where they rest.
“I can’t drive,” I whisper. There’s something about this moment that warrants secrecy. Discretion. “Not like this.” I press a palm to my swimming head, but I’m not sure it’s the alcohol making me dizzy.
“I know.” He stands so close, his breath sends my hair dancing. A thousand goose bumps pop along my skin.
“Could your driver take me home?” I force the words out despite every cell in my body screaming in protest. I need to leave. Before I do something stupid.
“No.” He steps even closer until my back hits the edge of the table. His arms press against either side of me, palms down on the surface, trapping me in his embrace. His lips graze against my ear, so balmy and close, my veins ache. “Stay.”
My hands come up and press against his chest but stop short of pushing him away. “I can’t.” Instead I trail my fingers down the defined pecs that he hides beneath those pesky things called shirts. “I—”
Colby brushes his lips against my ear in a tantalizing way that makes my breathing quicken. He sweeps his tongue along my jaw, releasing a jolt of desire that shocks through me with the force of a lightning bolt.
“We can’t.” I scramble for the back of his shirt, running my fingers along the hot skin of his lower back.
“I know.” His lips hover against mine, teasingly, driving me insane.
I arch upward as hot need bursts through me, making me shudder. Everything inside me cries out for his touch. “We shouldn’t,” I whisper again, more to remind myself than him. His only obstacle is that he’s my boss. Mine is that I plan to rob him blind. This is wrong, illicit, forbidden.
Forbidden.
The word pulls me up short. It should be a showstopper. Instead it only makes me moan with desire.
“You don’t sound convinced.” He tugs at the hem of my skirt, scooping the fabric up up up my leg. His fingers continue their trail, heading right toward the source of all heat in my body. The spot between my legs pulses with anticipation.
I press against him harder, closer. “Convince me.”
He plunges his lips against mine in a fierce kiss that leaves me breathless. His mouth is hot and hungry, kissing me with no abandon. A fluttering sensation shocks through me, making me gasp.
The kiss grows hot and fierce, our mouths moving in unison while our hands roam along the contours of each other’s bodies. His fingers press against me over my panties, rubbing and stroking and getting me hot and desperate until he backtracks.
“Don’t stop!” I gasp out.
“I’ll take that as you being convinced,” he whispers.
His palms slide along my legs, then my torso, before leaving a trail of tingles along my bare arms, and my eyes fall shut to savor the glorious sensation. His mouth descends to my neck, sucking and lighting up the nerve endings there with glorious strokes of his tongue. I gasp, gripping him tighter.
When he removes my clothes, he makes sure to dance his fingertips and tongue over every inch of skin he exposes. My nipples harden as he sucks each one into his mouth and forces out the gasp I’ve been trying to hold onto. My head falls back, eyelids descending shut while I lose myself in the incredible swirl of sensation radiating from the tip of his tongue. A deep groan rips from my lips as the throb at my core swells with insistence.
I scramble for his belt. Oh God, I need him now now now. I free him of his clothes and marvel at the free reign I have over his delicious stomach. My tongue blazes a trail along his defined abs, lapping up the salt of his skin like a culinary delicacy.
His fingers yank my panties down down down my legs and toss them somewhere that doesn’t matter. All that matters is they’re gone and his hands are that much closer to touching me. His finger slide inside me, digging and curving in a way that ramps ecstasy right at the very spot of his touch. I writhe against him, my hips following the revolution of his wrist. Pressure builds in intensity, and I squirm, stroking him with the same kind of gusto.
After a moment, when I’m nice and warmed up, he pulls out of me. He wraps an arm beneath me and lifts me onto the kitchen table. I scoot closer to the edge, my desperation for him making me impatient. My body screams for his, and I fumble for the condom I keep in my purse.
“You sure?” He plucks the square from my shaking fingers and slides it on.
“I’m sure this is a terrible idea, yes.”
“That’s well established.” He kisses me again, so hard and fierce I barely have time to catch my breath before he robs it again by entering me with a powerful thrust.
I wrap my legs around him to bring him deeper inside me. Pleasure sparkles through me at the intense pressure of his movements. He lets out a guttural cry that turns me to Jell-O, pliable at his touch. My hips embark on a desperate race to meet his thrusts, each one punting me off a cliff of desire. Pulses of bliss spiral outward until I’m gasping at the heady sensation building at my core.
His lips find mine in a searing kiss before we break apart, both of us struggling to catch our breath. My eyes slip closed, concentrating on the rush of pressure spinning and turning to a sharp
point at the base of me. My fingernails dig into the skin of his back, and I cry out. His hips swivel in a motion that makes my head arch backward. Colby uses the opportunity to bury his face in my neck and sucks a scorching trail of kisses along the tender flesh of my shoulder.
Holy hell. I grit my teeth against the double attack of pleasure working in tandem to send me over the edge. Every atom in my body inflates with enough helium to burst like a balloon. The ache inside me swells to a crescendo with every new pulse of his hips. Oh God. The moan that slips past my lips is an omen, foreshadowing the burst that ricochets through me in beautiful, pulsating releases. A few moments later Colby gasps against my neck, his breath hot along my skin.
Both of us shudder together, clutching each other to hold on for dear life.
Fuck, that was good. But only because it was a fucking bad idea.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Morning light filters in through the billowing curtains that hula dance in the slight breeze. I blink against the stark white sheets, my eyes adjusting to the foreign room that smells like sandalwood, replacing the distinct cigarette scent that usually seeps into my motel room from the one next door. A fog pounds against my skull, blotting out all thought of where I am and how I got here. But then the sound of the shower pings in my ears and I bolt upright.
Holy shit.
I’m in Colby’s bed.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m in Colby’s bed and last night I did the one thing I shouldn’t: I forgot my mission, let my desires overtake me, and nearly screwed myself over in the process of screwing him.
I blink, my eyes sweeping over the empty room once more. I’m in Colby’s room…and he’s in the shower.
I leap out of bed, completely naked, my muscle memory and instinct kicking in before the events from last resurface in my brain like a movie I’d forgotten I’ve already seen. Images float to my mind: the rough scrape of his stubble against my thigh, the scream that ripped from my mouth as I straddled him on this very bed with my palms braced against the wall, the delicate whispered words about promises for more. More than tonight. More than just sex.
More than I can keep.
I fucked up last night but today I have clarity. He’s not here and this might be my only chance. I rip open the first drawer I come to and sweep my hands inside, my fingers working fast and methodical the way I’ve always been good at, before I knew my fingers could work other magic on him besides theft. The first two drawers yield nothing but immaculately folded clothes and frustration that makes my teeth clench. But when I dig my hand beneath his boxers, hard velvet scrapes my fingertips.
I freeze, not daring this to be real as I trace the rectangular shape. My pulse quickens. I fumble to remove the box and gasp at the sight of it, my heart swelling with hope and nostalgia and down right gratitude. Tears spring to my eyes, and when I pop open the box and my gaze catches on the iridescent shimmer of the brooch, my breath shivers out of me. I hug the beautiful piece of jewelry to my chest. It’s mine. It’s finally mine.
“Ahem.”
I scream, spinning around to come face to face with Colby leaning against the bathroom doorjamb, a teal towel wrapped around his waist. My heart leaps into my throat and I scramble to hide the brooch behind my back in a childish game of hide and seek.
He stalks toward me, his face void of expression. A lump lodges in my throat and I stumble backward a step, the brooch knocking into his wooden dresser with a bang that sounds like a nuclear bomb to my years.
He holds out a palm, forcing me to be the one to close the distance between us. My throat feels swollen. My hands shake and it takes all my will power to reluctantly hand over the brooch. It feels as if a part of me has been severed. A strangled sound rips from my throat.
“Do you like it?” He holds it up to the sunlight, marveling at the way rainbows sparkle in each tiny prism. A ring of tiny, exquisite diamonds surrounds a teardrop shaped deep red ruby, two inches in diameter.
I gulp down a swallow, my head squirrel-darting around his room in a desperate attempt to locate an excuse. Any excuse. “What is it?” I say because I can’t admit the truth: that I love it. If I say that, I might confess everything.
His lips curve into a frown. “I bought it to give it to my mom on her anniversary of being cancer free.” His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “But maybe I should give it to her on the day she starts chemo again. It might be the only thing that will cheer her up. She’s obsessed with nineteenth century royal history.”
My stomach clenches. I know I shouldn’t ask questions. I should make an excuse and get out of here before he can call the cops on me. But alarm bells ring in my ears and I press my palm against the dresser to steady myself. “When does she start chemo?”
He lets out a low breath. “Sunday.”
Two days. A whimper leaks from my throat. “It’s beautiful,” I force myself to say. “She’s going to love it.”
He settles it back in the box and gently sets it in the drawer, then sets his blue eyes on me. “Why were you looking through my drawer anyway?” He’s clearly trying to keep his voice casual, but his clenched teeth betray him.
My pulse is still pounding with the force of a concert speaker, making it hard to think, but my brain latches onto one piece of evidence: boxers. I glance down and realize I’m still standing here, completely naked. “I was looking for something to wear.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was going to grab your clothes for you after I got out of the shower.” He bends to open one of the drawers I dismissed and plucks out a crisp black t-shirt and then a pair of boxers. “You can put these on for now.”
I yank them from him hastily and clutch them against my chest. “Where’s your mom?” I bite my lip and suck in air through my nostrils so I don’t sound so desperate. “I mean, where’s her chemo treatment?”
“Back in Indiana.” Colby rakes a hand through his hair. “I’ll have to take an early morning flight out on Sunday to be able to surprise her in time.”
I nod while cold panic sluices through my blood. In two days, the brooch will be gone forever. “What are you doing tomorrow?” I blurt, my mind running ten steps ahead, working out a plan of action while I’m still trying to get my bearings straight here.
“Um. Work?” He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “I need to make up for yesterday.” He slides his palm over his forehead. “You can have the day off today, by the way. And a few days next week once I figure out when I’m getting back. I’ll still pay you, of course.” He pauses, his eyes widening. “Actually. Would you want to come with me? To Indiana?”
My body thrums with his invitation. The girl part of me wants to say yes yes yes and leap into his arms. He’s asking me to go on a trip. To meet his mother. The mother he loves enough to pluck down three mil for a stupid brooch his mom won’t even wear, just display.
But there’s another part of me—the criminal part—that can’t possibly say yes. Because by Sunday, I’ll be far away from this town and never looking back. “I wish I could but…” I tap my finger against my lips, cobbling together a plausible excuse. “I have my grandmother’s seventy-fifth birthday on Sunday. I’m throwing her a surprise party.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. My grandma didn’t live to see seventy-five. “I was actually going to invite you to it, but—”
He holds up his palms. “No worries. That’s just as important.”
“But Saturday,” I say again. “I know you said you have to work, but my friend’s having a party that afternoon.” My stomach clenches. Damn it, I just used the party excuse. “It’s a low key barbecue, should be fun. I’m going to work my magic on the grill,” I add, because if this is a fantasy date, I should put on all the fixings. “Do you want to meet me there?” I disarm him with a smile. “As my date?”
He pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “That sounds amazing, actually. Screw work and my investors!” He fist-pumps the air.
My arms are trapped between us, still clutching the
clothes he handed to me. I toss them to the floor. Outside the door, I can hear Galina singing to herself, but I don’t care if she hears us. “Meet me there around six then? I’ll text you the address.” I tug at the towel wrapped around his waist and then toss that aside too.
“Why can’t we drive there together?” His lips graze against my neck, leaving a trail of tingles in his wake.
Fuck. Why can’t we? “I promised I’d help her set up so I’m actually getting there a few hours early. Trust me, you don’t want to be there for this. It’s more about leg waxing than setting out appetizers.”
He laughs against my neck and I nearly melt into a puddle right there. “Okay, I can still work all afternoon then.” He kisses me, hard and passionate, leaving my gasping. My hands start to grasp at his exposed skin but he wraps his fingers around my wrists and sets them back at my sides. “But unfortunately we have to wait for this.” His eyes flick toward his clock. “I have a conference call in a few minutes.”
I let out a moan at the unfinished business pulsing between my thighs. Business that’ll never be finished between us again.
Because tomorrow when he drives an hour a half to meet me, he’s going to leave his house empty. Ripe for the taking.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I park several blocks away from Colby’s house. Far enough that he won’t notice my car. It’s four-thirty P.M., but I still don the requisite all black favored by girls who want to look skinny and by burglars who prowl the night. Except my all black comes in the form of yoga pants and a sports bra. My blond hair swings in a ponytail behind my head. I’m a jogger. I’m not suspicious. Everyone will ignore me.
I crouch behind a bush, bending down as if I’m tying my shoe. Through the leaves, there’s a dissected view of Colby’s driveway. A text vibrates in my pocket—on my way!—a full two minutes before his car backs out of the driveway and swerves down the road.
