Sweetest Taboo (SIN 3)

"Dallas!" Her cry rent the night, and at the same time, her body clenched tight around him and she shook from the power of the orgasm that broke through her, giving him that final push into a wild oblivion. With a guttural cry, he exploded, filling her, holding her, loving her.

He pulled her back up to him, craving the feel of her skin against his chest and her mouth against his. She clung to him, her body still trembling as her legs once again wrapped around his hips, keeping them connected, so that there was nothing separating them. They were one in that moment. Whole. Complete. Perfect.

When she finally leaned back, he saw the fire in her eyes. "Wow," she said, and he couldn't help but laugh with her.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Definitely wow."

"So," she said, trailing a fingertip down his chest. "Wanna go inside and go for round two?"

He was still inside her, and though he'd been soft, he felt himself get rock hard again.

She grinned at him. "Yeah," she said. "I guess you do."

With a laugh, he started toward the door, holding her tight against him, but the sharp, familiar ring of his phone made him freeze.

"Liam?" she asked as she slid down his body.

With a nod, he grabbed his phone off the table in front of the glider, then answered the call. "Tell me."

"Her house is empty," Liam said. "But there's no reason to think she knows we suspect her. Looks like she's just gone out of town and a chat with her gardener confirms that."

"In that case," Dallas said, "I think I have a way to draw her back home."

I am the bait.

I know I'm safe and we're setting a trap and everything is under control, but I'm still nervous. And as our plane starts its descent toward JFK, I take another look at the text conversation on Dallas's phone:

Dallas: You there?

Adele: For you? Always.

Dallas: Need to ask a favor.

Adele: Whatever you need.

Dallas: Jane and I flying back from LA today. It will be crazy with the press after that piece about our kidnapping. I want her out of the limelight.

Adele: I agree, but what can I do?

Dallas: Meet us at the airport? I can take a cab home, but I was thinking you could take her to your house? The press won't look for her there, and she can rest and regroup while this dies down. Just a day or two. Would be a huge help.

Adele: Of course! You two are like my family. Send flight details and I'll be there.

Dallas did, of course. And now the plan is that he and I go back to New York as usual, get our luggage, head outside, and then when she pulls up to supposedly give me a ride, the team will swoop in and grab her.

It's risky in such a public place, but the guys have it planned out in such a way that, if everything goes right, Adele will be unconscious in seconds and Tony will drive her vehicle away right under everyone's noses.

Considering covert operations isn't my thing, I'm simply going to trust them. And cross my fingers very, very tightly.

Mostly, though, I'm going to leave the Adele side to the guys, because I know that I'm going to be mostly preoccupied with the crush of reporters and cameras.

And it turns out I'm right.

The madness begins the moment we hit baggage claim at JFK. Reporters with cameras and microphones get in our faces, trail us as we walk, and shout out everything from compliments to insults, all with the hopes of making us look in their direction so that they can get that perfect shot to sell to the tabloids or go viral on Instagram.

Before--in the pre-disinherited days--we'd have been met by one of the Sykes conglomerate's security guards who double as drivers. Usually someone big and burly who would keep the press away. Better yet, we would have flown in on one of the family's private jets and avoided the cameras altogether.

To be fair, in the past, I wouldn't have attracted much attention, if any. Wealth and a household name was hardly enough to maintain tabloid interest in me, and I usually flew under the radar unless I had a book out or lunch with a celebrity who really was Twitter worthy.