The Lady Is a Thief (20 page)

 
   
“I know.” The two words quivered in the air
between them. “After tomorrow, I'll tell you anything you want to know.”

 
   
“I only need to know one thing.” He didn't
care if the box held a priceless artifact. He didn't care why she stole it. He didn't
care what she did last week or last month. He studied her gaze, the
unflinching, brilliant pair of green eyes that saw everything and gave so very
little away—until a person could see beyond the surface to the startlingly
brilliant woman beneath. The depths of a woman he wanted to spend decades
exploring.

 
   
“What's that?”

 
   
“Yes or no?”
He
didn't miss the slight catch to her breath or the way her cheeks turned a
deeper shade of pink or the way the pupils in her eyes dilated.

 
   
“That's it? That's all you want to know?”

 
   
Jarod nodded once. “That's it.”

 
   
Her teeth scraped over her lower lip.
“One answer.”

 
   
“Only answer.” He confirmed.

 
   
Fisting his shirt into her hands, she tugged
him that last inch closer, mouth bare millimeters from his. “Yes.”

 
   
He closed the distance. One gentle brush
turned into a fusion reaction that rocketed explosive need through his body.
She said yes.

 
   
That's all he needed.

 
   
S
he
wanted him out of his clothes, but instead, she stood under the shower jets and
scrubbed her hair. He kissed her until she was breathless and gave her the
tiniest of pushes into the bathroom. “Shower,” he murmured. “I'll order the
food.”

 
   
“I'm not hungry.” She refused to be ordered
around and traced the line of rippling muscle beneath his shirt. He captured
her hands and pulled himself free, the smile on his face dark and full of
tantalizing promise.

 
   
“I didn't say the food was for you.” He
closed the door on her outraged ‘oh’ and left her to stew for ten seconds until
his low laughter softened the rejection. A rejection she didn't quite
appreciate until she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

 
   
She looked terrible.

 
   
A minute later, she thrust herself into the
shower and didn't care that the water hadn't quite warmed up. She soaped up her
hair three times and then conditioned it. Her stylist would kill her
when—if—she got back to him. The water came up to slow boil by the time she scrubbed
soap over her breasts and down her arm. The curtain pulled back and Jarod stood
leaning against the cool tile, gloriously naked.

 
   
“Did you order dinner?” She pivoted on one
foot, facing the spray and letting it splash over her breasts and sluice away
the soap.

 
   
“I did. I hope you like steak.” A brush of
air against her back the only warning that he'd slipped into the shower behind
her. Awareness skittered through her as his chest glided against her back and
his erection bumped her hip. He trailed fingers down her arm to claim the
loofah
she'd been using all the while guiding her until he
slid under the spray.

 
   
The water danced over his skin—all lean
hard-corded muscle. The brief glimpses she'd seen earlier didn't do him
justice. The black tattoo engulfed his left shoulder, painted like a warrior.
His abdominals were a fixed, hard six-pack—chiseled as though carved from teak.
He ducked his face under the water and she leaned back against the wall. His
cock jutted up toward his belly, thick and aroused. His thighs rippled with
each little step and the muscles in his calves flexed as he stretched past her
to claim the shampoo.

 
   
“You were shot,” she ran her fingers across
his abdomen to the scar puckering his right side, a scant inch or so above his
hip.

 
   
“More than once.”
He nodded, twisting away to show her his back. She explored the tightly packed
muscle stretching across his shoulders. She found four more scars, one so close
to where his heart beat beneath his ribs that her own slammed in painful sympathy.

 
   
Every question that came to mind she
banished without asking, choosing to lean forward and press her lips to each
puckered reminder of the wounds he'd endured. Slipping an arm around his waist,
she hugged him. She wanted to feel his heart beating and the steady cadence of
its rhythm soothed her.

 
   
“How long?”
The
only question she allowed a voice to.

 
   
“About seven years in the field, two behind
the desk.” He sidled under the water and she went with him, enjoying the
slippery way the water slid around the parts of their bodies touching. He
twisted again and pulled her up against his chest and tucked his finger beneath
her chin, nudging her gaze up to his. “I left on good terms, but had tired of
the long game. I wanted—I needed something else.”

 
   
“And you found that with Walter?” She didn't
know him, but she understood the loneliness of an existence built upon
fabrication. That house of cards may deceive others, but they could also fool
the person building it until the fiction became fact.

 
   
“No.” He cupped her face in his hands, the
strength gentle and caring. His mouth slanted over hers, a slow, possessive
kiss that sent electricity zinging through her system. She forgot about the
shower, the questions, and the journey to understand and just reveled in the
way her body fit against his.
His muscular body so hard to
her leaner, softer frame.

 
   
When he lifted his head, she stared at
him—almost dazed. He kissed her cheek, and then her eyelids, and finally the
tip of her nose. “Walter provided a means to an end. He is useful and
resourceful and has cultivated a number of contacts, but he wasn't what I
needed.”

 
   
A knock at the door and the room service
call interrupted. Jarod stepped out and held her hand until she stood on the
floor mat next to him. Slinging a towel around his hips, he opened the bathroom
door. “Stay in here for a moment.”

 
   
He shut her in and took a moment before
opening the outer door. Plates and glass chimed together as it rolled inside
and she toweled herself off. Her nipples were almost achingly sensitive, and
her body hummed from the contact with his. She wasn't all that interested in
food, but she did take the time to run a comb through her hair, blow dry, and
brush her teeth. She still looked too pale and the red splotch too angry when
she finished, but a little bit of the hotel lotion helped her feel prettier.

 
   
Opening the door, she found Jarod waiting
for her. The towel wrapped around his hips and his arms folded over his chest.
She grinned at him around the edge of the door. “I don't have anything to
wear.”

 
   
“
Ahh
.”
He tugged his towel loose and handed it to her. He seemed even more magnificent
in the sterile hotel room with its cheap art deco knockoffs and cream-colored
furniture.
Raw.
Real.
Masculine.
The words didn't do him justice.

 
   
She took the towel from him and pulled the
door wide, not bothering for any false sense of modesty. He'd seen her in the
shower—hell—he'd already caressed her breasts. Her nipples tightened almost
painfully at the memory and she took a moment to fold the towel and set it on
the counter behind her.

 
   
The room temp cool, almost too cool, against
her overheated flesh. She walked out and stared at the table he'd ordered up
with their dinner set with the silver toppers still in place over the meals, a
bottle of wine, four bottles of water, two empty glasses and a single white
rose.

 
   
So sweet.

 
   
Desire mixed with a wave of tenderness, the
potent and heady combination far more devastating than the need to wrap around
him and explore what brought them both pleasure. She wasn't supposed to get
attached. She'd had her share of one-night stands and brief, albeit fun affairs
through the years.
Dalliances with men who wanted something
from her—or her father.
Using them as they used her, and she always
walked away with her heart
unbattered
and
unbruised
.

 
   
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the
warmth in that stern face, the unfettered confidence in those deep brown eyes.
Understanding—and something more—trust resonated through his expression. He
stared at her steadily, almost gently and when he pulled the chair out for her
to sit, her insides went liquid with need.

 
   
Again, she wasn't supposed to get attached.
She never did. He circled the table and sat down in the chair opposite her, his
legs stretching out to tangle with hers. It amped
up
the need and the sense of power flowing through her—but she didn't own the
power.

 
   
Jarod shared it with her.
“Wine?”

 
   
“No thank you. I haven't had enough sleep to
be able to hold my liquor tonight and I think I very much want to be awake to
see what happens next.”

 
   
He grinned. “We'll save it for later.”

 
   
“If you like.”
She
smiled. She couldn't help it. He brushed his calf against hers and first date
goosebumps
rippled over her. God help her, she was
twenty-nine, not nineteen.

 
   
He opened the water bottles and poured out
drinks for each of them. Removing the plate toppers, he revealed a smorgasbord
of skewers with steak, chicken, shrimp and veggies. She laughed.
“Appetizers?”

 
   
“Yep.
I don't want
to be too full for the main course.” Any other man would have made that sound
like a line, but his gaze swept over her in raw caress. Her sex dampened and
she curled her toes into the carpeting as though trying to keep her ass planted
on the chair—but why the hell was he sitting all the way over there?

 
   
He stroked her calf again. A light brush of
his leg on hers and the caress ran a riot of sensation up her leg until her sex
clenched tighter, imagining what it would be like to tangle their legs
together,
his
body driving into hers.

 
   
“Kit Kat.” His whisper teased her ears. Her
eyes were closed and she let out a shaky breath when forcing them open to stare
at him.

 
   
“Yes?” It was the best she could do. She
wanted to devour him. Dark, mysterious, sexy, dangerous, and thoughtful—she
wanted to explore his body, snuggle up to it, sample it and hold him.

 
   
“Appetizers are meant to tease the palate.”

 
   
She didn't know which one of them stood
first, but she almost fell in her unsteady haste to stand. He caught her,
easily sweeping her into an open-mouthed kiss that ended with them landing in a
reckless tangle of arms and legs. His hands seemed to be everywhere, cupping a
breast, pinching a nipple, delving between her thighs and when he pressed his
thumb to her clit, the world erupted in pleasure. She convulsed with the
orgasm, clinging to him and riding his hand with a fevered abandon.

 
   
He caressed her through the first orgasm and
laved a wet, sucking kiss to one nipple before trailing another damp kiss over
to the other. She bucked against his hand, the sweet tension snapping and
throwing her over again as a second orgasm shook her. She'd rarely experienced
two in one night, much less two so close together. He rolled away and she let
out a little whimper, but he murmured something.

 
   
Foil tore and he returned, covering her body
with his and taking her mouth in another hot, wet invasion. His tongue tangled
with hers as he seemed intent on devouring her. She surrendered to the passion,
desperate to taste him. He slid his hands down to her thighs and urged one up,
angling her leg and then his cock glided against her clit, wrenching another
wave of pleasure. She barely had time to grasp it before he slid into her sex
and thrust to the hilt.