Might as well have lit a match and set her on fire.
He moved slow, but never let her wait; he moved fast, but never so fast the sensation blurred. He kissed her deep and forceful, then neat and soft and languid. He held her like she could mistake this for play when it was deadly serious. He attacked her like she’d need traction and soothed her like she was prayer. She’d have to kill him after this, despite the mess, because he was lethal, a danger to the general population, and he knew too much about her now to go on living.
She’d meant to ride him till he was spent, but he’d let loose on her and she was awakened. Hope had strong wings and they caught the wind and sent her sailing as another orgasm rattled through her, making her teeth clack and her nails scratch, making him shout and bury his face in her neck, holding her like he would press them into diamonds.
She’d have to kill him now because she loved him. Had never stopped, even when she’d suspected him of all the worst crimes. She’d run from him because you couldn’t trust a thief who could fox a thief, a conman who could game a pro, a liar who could make you think you were the center of his universe before he stole it out from under you.
And you couldn’t afford to love one, even when it was written in his every touch, every look, that he loved you.
He rolled her so they were side by side, face-to-face. He claimed her with a leg thrown over her hip, a preemptive move to stop her leaving the bed. A good sign he wasn’t about to either, because she had no energy to stop him. So much for sexing him to death—all the juice she had left in the tank were for the kisses she peppered over his face.
He winced when she brushed against the cut on his cheekbone. “You learned to punch.” He’d cleaned himself up in the cab, but the wound was angry and bruised.
“I learned a lot of things.”
“Where did you go?” He gave her hair a sharp tug. “I looked everywhere for you. Tapped every contact, posted a reward for information. Knew you had the skills to disappear, didn’t think you’d become a ghost.” He took her hands in his. “Eventually figured you didn’t want to be found.”
“I was done with you, with that whole life.”
The grip on her hands tightened. “That was when you broke my heart.”
She pulled on her hands, but he held fast. She couldn’t slug him again, so she used her words. “You didn’t have a heart to break.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “Surprised the shit out of me too. When you didn’t come back, I did the whole stages of grief thing. Confusion, fear, frustration, alcoholism, fighting, fucking everything in sight to get over you.”
“That wasn’t grief.” It was more like a tantrum. More like what she’d done too.
“My version of it.”
He released his grip on her hands; she could pull them free. She didn’t. “But you moved on. We both did, so it’s all good now.”
“I worried you were dead, my darling. Too many drugs, the wrong friends, situations gone bad. I hoped you were reformed, fat and happy in the ‘burbs with a bunch of kids and a husband who worshipped you.”
“Hah, fucking typical man, you never thought I could make it on my own.”
“I never thought you’d take my prize. You’re right. I’ve never been so grateful to be wrong in all my life.” He kissed across her knuckles. “Should’ve known you’d be sensational. That scam you pulled, must’ve taken months, so many pieces to juggle, putting yourself on the line. It was brilliant. Blows me away.”
Sometime during the conversation, he’d lit a flame in her chest, a little flickering spot of heat. He’d almost snuffed it out by assuming she’d fade away to nothing. Not that family was nothing for most people, but it had been nothing but disabling to her. And then he went and threw tinder on the flame and made it flare with the way he looked at her.
He was proud.
No one had ever been proud of her except her mom, and that was in the job description. If he made her cry she’d have to kill him twice.
“How do you know I snatched Celestia?” That was the mystery. How had she come undone?
“Because I was all set up to snatch her myself. I had men in the room. Gus, Santino and one of the guards.”
“Your crew did my hair and makeup?” Incredible, she’d not suspected a thing, but then she’d never had her hair and makeup done professionally for a photo shoot before either.
He laughed. “When I learned about the magazine shoot, I knew it was the perfect way to get my crew in there, get up close knowledge of how Celestia was being secured before we snatched her.”
“You replaced the magazine’s crew.”
“Like you replaced their chosen model. I paid off the real hair and makeup guys. More money than they’d make in their whole careers to forgo one job. But how did you get in there? I checked your background, because I’d thought about replacing the model too, but Melody seemed—”
“Suitably professional but nothing to crow about.”
“Yes, that. You fictionalized Melody’s whole career.” She nodded. That’d been the easy part. “Well played.”