Reluctantly he left her lips and trailed a line of kisses down the center of her until he was poised over the dark nest of curls between her legs. Parting her lips with his hands, he found the swollen nub of her and bent to kiss it. Worshipped it with his lips and tongue as he eased his fingers into her. Stroked her desire ever higher as he suckled her. She arched against his mouth and wave after wave of pleasure flooded through her. She called out his name and held onto his shoulders, teetering on the edge, holding back because she wanted to fall with him into the ecstasy of release.
She dug her fingers deep into the muscles of his shoulders and tugged him upward, her gaze locking with his as she said, “I want you inside me. I want to come with you.”
“I want that, too, Tatochka,” he said, and quickly found her center and thrust in, dragging a gasp from her. A sensation of fullness, of oneness, filled her as he buried himself in her depths.
They held still for long moments, savoring that union. Finding peace in togetherness even as their heartbeats raced, and he finally moved, drawing himself out until his head teased her opening. Pushing forward again, he dragged a moan from her as the friction of him had her shaking and battling for control.
…
Peter sucked in a breath. The wet of her, the tightness of her muscles surrounding him, almost made him lose it. But he wanted to give her yet more pleasure. He wanted to hear her shout his name when she gave herself over to her release. And so he tempered his motions, riding her slowly at first. His pace increased as she reached up and held onto him, raising her knees to deepen his penetration.
The couch creaked and shifted on the polished wood floor as he strove to please her and satisfy his own need for her body. Over and over he took her to the pinnacle, watching her as she watched him. Held onto him to keep control.
Her full breasts bobbed from the force of his thrusts. His balls tightened to the point where he knew his release would come soon, and he bent his head and suckled the tips of her breasts, wanting her to come with him.
She cradled his head and cried out his name. He gently teethed her nipples and she climaxed with a rough cry, her hands holding his head to her breasts. Her thighs tightened around him as with one final push, his climax pummeled him and he spilled himself into her.
He dropped down onto her and raised his head. Kissed her in between their rough breaths as they collapsed in the aftermath of their passion, slowly returning to earth.
“Tatochka, I don’t think I can ever get enough of you,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the couch with ease.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, his cock still buried inside her and coming to life once again. A sexy smile burst onto her lips as she held his shoulders and he finally took the short walk to the bedroom, each step making her ride against him and awakening desire.
“If you keep this up, Peter, my mother may get her babies quickly after all,” she teased and licked the shell of his ear.
He grinned and kissed her. Gently laid her down on the edge of the bed and braced his hands on the mattress. “I guess you want me to stop?”
“Never,” she said and let herself surrender to his loving again.
…
Tatiana lingered in bed while Peter showered, not wanting to move. Too sated and too happy.
She wanted to share that happiness, especially since by now everyone in Atlantic City was bound to have heard of their engagement.
Raising her left hand, she snapped a picture of the ring with her phone and texted it to both Alexander and Vanessa.
Then she pre-empted the call that was sure to come, and dialed her brother.
“Congratulations, Tatochka. I hope he makes you very happy,” Alexander said as soon as he answered.
“He does, Sasha. I may just be able to forgive you,” she kidded her older brother.
“I hope so. If he doesn’t treat you right, he’s going to have to deal with me.”
“I think he knows that. I love you, Sasha. Kiss Kathleen and the baby for me.”
As she disconnected, a text message came in from Vanessa.
OMFG. CONGRATULATIONS. I THINK. VANESSA.
THX, she texted back.
DO U LOVE HIM? Vanessa asked, and Tatiana had no doubt about her answer.
WITH ALL MY HEART.
Chapter 21
Shea watched the snipped locks of his sandy hair swirl around and down the toilet.
Returning to the sink, he lathered his skull and carefully shaved off whatever was left of his hair. Toweling off the remnants of shaving cream, he examined himself in the mirror. Pleased, he walked over to the Mohawk hairpiece he had dyed a bright blue a few days earlier. He peered at it, recalling in his mind’s eye the color of the Mohawk his mark wore. Satisfied it was close, he grabbed a bottle of spirit gum and the hairpiece. At the sink, he painstakingly applied the Mohawk, smiling when he was done.
Shea had chosen his man because his general appearance, height, and weight were close to his. With his hair gone and the crazy Mohawk to draw attention away from his features, he had no doubt he could pass for the other man, especially in the rush going on backstage.
Just a few more things and his disguise would be complete.
He went to the small desk in the room and the stenciling paper on which he’d painstakingly recreated the facial tattoo the other man possessed. He had snapped several pictures of it during his surveillance of the man, and now it was time to transfer the image to his own face.
At the sink, he applied the spray that made the stencil stain his skin, then precisely placed the stencil, giving the chemicals time to transfer the design onto his face. When it was ready, he gingerly removed the paper and compared the outline to the photos he’d taken. Choosing the best picture, he taped it to the mirror and opened the body paint he had purchased.
He worked carefully, painting over the stencil lines to recreate the tattoo. His hand was steady as he stroked the paint on his skin, and the tattoo came to life on his face. He wanted to smile, but held back, fearful he’d ruin the work.
Instead, he snatched all the photos together and tore them into tiny pieces. Then he flushed them a little at a time to destroy the evidence.
Heading back to the bedroom, he grabbed the backpack with the rest of his supplies and slipped on the leather jacket, which matched that of his mark. In one pocket of the jacket were the paste jewels, and in the other a stun gun to subdue his target.
He glanced at his watch.
He still had over an hour before he had to head out to swap himself for his target—the man who’d be assisting the designer of the dress that was paired with the necklace Prince Sergei desired.
Time enough for a cup of coffee and breakfast. It was going to be a long day and he’d need the energy to keep him going. Once he had made the switch and slipped into the hotel’s clothing shop to drop off the necklace, he’d be on his way to one of the escape cars and a long road trip to a safehouse in sunny Positano, Italy, where he could lay low for a few weeks and relax.
…
From the moment they left their suite, Peter and Tatiana were in constant motion, finalizing an assortment of details so the charity event went off without a hitch.
When a problem arose with one of the designers, Peter hung back to do a final sweep of the area with Tony while Tatiana rushed off to handle whatever was upsetting the man.
Everywhere he and Tony checked, their security staff was alert and at their posts in the hotel and casino areas. Moving backstage, they walked to the stage door where a duo of security guards checked the credentials of everyone participating in the show or working the backstage area. Peter lingered a few feet away, making sure the men were using the appropriate precautions, and as he did so, Tony received a call about a possible problem in one of the gambling salons. The security chief excused himself, but Peter hung back. He wanted to get his own impressions of the people handling the dresses and jewels. He had already read through all the backgrou
nd reports compiled by Tony on the assorted designers, dressers, make-up artists, models, and stage hands.
An eclectic lot. He stood there, watching, and recognized some of the gorgeous models from various print and TV ads. He knew he had it bad when not one of them stirred him as Tatiana did. She was all woman with her generous curves, not a stick figure like the women who bustled past.
Two men walked by, a designer and his assistant, judging by their conversation. The designer was whining about something having gone wrong and the assistant scurried away to handle the problem, rushing over to another man wheeling in a rack with a few gowns.
Not that Peter was an expert, but his untrained eye thought they looked like the sketches of the dresses to be paired with his mother’s jewelry. The gold and wine-colored hues worked well with them.
From another side of the room, a leanly muscled man with a blue Mohawk and a facial tattoo pushed around another rack with clothing in a bold mix of colors. Something about the man called to him.
Moving away from the wall, Peter followed Mohawk Man at a distance. The punk-looking assistant seemed in no rush. He pushed the rack toward the staging area where the models would be styled and change into the various gowns before heading out to the runway.
The plan was for the display cases to be brought into this area where security guards would hand out the jewels and stand by while they were placed on the models and then eventually returned.
Without a seeming care in the world, Mohawk Man wheeled the rack into place by one dressing area and then laid out make-up and various styling accessories.
Peter walked over to him. “Excuse me, but could I see your credentials?”
The man jumped, startled, then smiled sexily after giving Peter the once over. “Of course, you can,” he said with almost a purr.
The man grabbed the lanyard holding his photo ID, unclipped it, and handed it over. “Not my best photo, but the lighting was a little harsh, don’t you think?”
Peter wanted to say that his cop radar was going off loudly, but there was no doubting that the man in the photo was a dead ringer for the person in front of him. Or was he imagining that the nose in the photo was a little more crooked and the jaw line not as strong of that of the man standing before him?
Still, the facial tattoo and Mohawk really distorted his overall appearance, making it hard to judge.
Satisfied for the moment, Peter handed the ID back and walked away, but then he turned back quickly and called out, “Richard?”
The man immediately turned his way. “Yes? Do you need something else?” Mohawk Man asked.
“I’ll be watching,” Peter said, although the man had not hesitated at all to answer to his name. Someone else might not have been as conditioned to do that, but then again, he wasn’t dealing with just any common criminal.
The Thief of Hearts wasn’t on the Most Wanted list for being stupid.
With that thought, Peter strode off to review all the other areas before he had to go upstairs and get dressed for the night.
…
Prince Pyotr—or should he say Detective Roman?—walked away, and Shea barely contained the smile on his face while he laid out the supplies they’d need for the show. He’d passed the ultimate test. The cop was sharp. No doubt about it. Shea was surprised the detective had singled him out to approach. Not a good sign. It meant the cop could possibly have made the connection between all the jewels that had been stolen, despite Shea’s efforts to hide the trail by stealing other pieces during the heists. If so, the cop might be keeping a close eye on this collection during the show.
As it was, Shea only had seconds to make the exchange when he transferred the necklace to and from the display stand to the fashion model. While he was a master at sleight of hand, he required a distraction to accomplish the task. If the prince planned on being backstage and watching him closely, that would make the exchange difficult.
He still had a couple of hours until the event. Time enough to think of a diversion. Something good to take the detective’s attention off him for those critical seconds.
…
Just looking at Peter took Tatiana’s breath away. He stood before the mirror, tugging at his bow tie to straighten the two crooked ends.
She slipped between him and the mirror and, with a mischievous yank, untied it. “Let me,” she said, and effortlessly created a flawless bow tie.
“Perfect. I may keep you, after all,” he kidded, and bent down to kiss her.
She opened her mouth to his, wishing they could skip the event tonight. Reluctantly she pulled away, swiped her thumb across his lips to remove her lipstick, and said, “I wish we could just stay here.”
“It’ll be over before you know it,” he said, and snagged her hand to pull her toward the door of the suite.
She relented, and together they walked to the amphitheater where the glitterati had started to enter and take their seats for the fashion show. The theater itself was done up to highlight the elegance of its Belle Époque styling, with lights dancing off the ornate woodwork along the walls and elaborate floral works along each row, the stage, and the catwalk.
After the show, the guests were supposed to move to the grand ballroom for an after-party featuring caviar, vodka, blinis, and other foods in keeping with the theme of the Russian aristocracy.
Hesitating by the door, Tatiana looked around to see how everything was going as guests waited to pass through their security checks. All appeared in order.
“Seems fine to me,” she said, and Peter offered a masculine grunt of agreement.
“Seems it. I’m going to take a final walk around backstage. I’ll be back before the show starts.” With a quick kiss on her cheek, he rushed away and she moved toward the line of guests waiting to enter, offering her greetings to help smooth any feathers ruffled by the short delay.
She worked the line until the very last guests had entered and were seated. There was still a good half hour or more until the runway show kicked off. Her parents had yet to arrive, and Peter had likewise failed to return.
She wondered what was keeping them, but then she spotted her parents coming off the elevators with Prince Sergei, who was surprisingly not in evening wear. As they approached, she caught the tail end of their conversation.
“So sorry you will miss the event,” her mother was saying.
Prince Sergei nodded and with a woeful expression replied, “I am very sorry also, but apparently this problem won’t keep.”
“Is something wrong, Prince Sergei?” Tatiana asked. She greeted her parents with hugs and cheek-kisses.
The prince nodded. “I just received a call from home. Apparently the burglar alarms have been tripped and there is evidence of a break-in. The police have asked that I come home as soon as possible.”
She forced an understanding smile to her face, although something didn’t ring true about his excuse. “We will miss you. I hope everything gets straightened out.”
He dipped his head, took her hand, and kissed the back of it. “Adieu, Princess Tatiana. I’m sorry we had so little time together. All the best on your nuptials.”
He quickly bid her parents goodbye and hurried in the direction of the main lobby and the front desk.
His touch had made her feel slimy, but worse, her gut was screaming that his burglary story was a major lie. Which made her wonder why he’d suddenly want to avoid the event. Why come at all if he was not planning to stay? She reached into her purse for her cell phone, pushing aside the gun Peter had obtained for her. She wanted to let him know of this strange development, but before she could hit the speed-dial, she caught sight of him walking down the hallway, his long strides eating up the carpet.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Prince Sergei had a call from home. A possible break-in. He’s headed there now to see what’s happening,” her father replied.
Peter shot a glance at her. “Really? Kind of convenient, isn’t it?”
“Convenient? That�
��s a rather odd word to use,” her father remarked.
Peter nodded, but his gaze was still on hers as he said, “I’m just a little…preoccupied. Too much to think about finishing before the night is over. Shall we go in and find our seats?” He held out his hand, inviting her parents to go in ahead of them, and lingering behind just a bit for a moment alone with her.
He bent and whispered for her ears only, “I’m going to ask security to keep an eye out for Sergei. See where he goes.”
“Good. He gave me the willies with his farewell in this creepy little voice. ‘Adieu, Princess Tatiana’ as if we were saying goodbye forever.” She shuddered.
Peter’s jaw tightened with worry. “Give me a few minutes to call security and I’ll be right back.”
…
Tatiana disappeared into the ballroom, and Peter pulled out his cell. He intended to make sure Prince Sergei was doing just what he had said. Calling Tony, he instructed him to confirm that the prince had checked out, and also to have someone discreetly tail him to see where he went. Once Tony acknowledged the instructions, Peter activated the app on his smartphone that gave him access to the feeds from the security cameras in the hotel and casino.
Tatiana might give him grief for watching them during the show, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
With a final look around the foyer, he hurried in.
Chapter 22
The area backstage was a beehive of activity. People hurried from one spot to the other dressing the models, touching up make-up and hair, swapping out shoes and other accessories while security guards stoically stood by the display cases waiting to be unlocked to allow access to the jewels.
All things considered, Shea didn’t think it would take much of a distraction to exchange the necklace the young model was wearing for the paste replica.
From the stage, the muted sound of someone talking over a microphone filtered back, and the stage manager walked around, warning everyone that the show started in ten minutes. At his command, each security guard unlocked his assigned display case, removed the jewels, and walked them to the dressing area for each designer and model.
To Catch a Princess (Entangled Ignite) Page 18
