Chapter 12 #2
He missed me?
“How dare you miss me!” It’s getting harder to keep my voice low. “You’re the one who left. I’m the one who woke up and found you fucking gone.”
“I wouldn’t have, if—” He cuts himself off, grimaces, looks away.
“If what? If I’d been better? If I’d—”
“No.” His eyes snap to mine. “Better? Hell no.” He leans an inch closer, voice so low it pulls at me. “You were fucking amazing.”
It’s just words, I tell myself. He’s saying it because Kurt’s offered him a job. He doesn’t mean it.
“If what, then, Declan?” I whisper through my anger. “Tell me what reason you had for getting out of my bed at five thirty in the goddamn morning, and not coming back?”
“It…” He pauses, clenches his jaw. “…was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I stare at him. “A mistake?” I prod him in the chest, hard enough I know it had to hurt. He doesn’t react, muscles firm beneath my fingers. Note to self: no touching. “You want to know how bad a fucking mistake it was?”
He grabs my hand, faster than he has any right to move, and holds it flat against his T-shirt. I can feel his heart beating, slow and even. Mine’s racing.
“It was the worst mistake I’ve made since I joined the Marines instead of keeping up with my racing,” he admits.
I don’t know what to say to that. My mouth is hanging open; I close it.
He steps forward, into my space, still holding my hand against him. He’s so close, I have to look up to see his face.
“I should’ve done what I wanted to,” he murmurs.
Not going to ask. Not going to ask. Not going to ask.
“What did you want to do?”
“Wake you up with round two.” His voice is quiet, but I still can’t help my glance into the room.
No one in there is talking, they’re all straining to listen.
I wonder if they can hear my blush; it’s loud enough in my ears.
“Wake you up with my tongue between your legs, or by pinning you face-down into the bed and easing into you from behind.”
Holy. Fuck.
“No…” he continues, thoughtful, “…both. First one, then the other.”
Blood courses through my body, tightening my nipples, rushing straight to my clit. I can’t breathe, and I’m trembling. The only part of me that isn’t is the hand pressed over his heart.
“Then why didn’t you?” It comes out as a squeak. So embarrassing.
“Because I wasn’t there.”
No, he wasn’t. And I still don’t know why he left, not really.
I’m also wondering if it even matters.
He brought me breakfast. It wasn’t his fault I’d left, it was mine. He could’ve said something, though.
“Why didn’t you leave a note?”
He laughs ruefully and shakes his head. “You have any idea how many times I’ve asked myself that this past week?” His pale blue eyes bore into mine. “I hurt you, and I didn’t mean to. I want to make it up to you. Dinner? Tonight? Or… skip dinner, and we go for four orgasms?”
“Not…” A chance. That stupid. Gonna happen. “…hungry.”
One side of his mouth curls at the corner, a hint of a dimple appearing. “I am,” he murmurs, and I’m certain my ovaries just spasmed.
He breaks eye contact, looking past me, and releases my hand. “Coffee’s ready.”
“What? Oh.” My hand is still pressed to his chest, and nothing is keeping it there. I yank it back, like it’s being burned. The machine is assuring me that I’ll enjoy my drink, but I’m absolutely certain I’m not going to even taste it. There’s only one thing I want to taste right now.
“Don’t leave without me tonight,” he whispers, mouth only inches from my ear. “Please?”
I say nothing but take my cup, making my way back into the room.
Everyone avoids making eye contact, save Cammy, who gives me a bright smile.
I take a seat on the couch Declan was sitting on, and a moment later he walks in too, coffee cup in hand, sitting down close enough that our knees touch.
I can feel him, even through both our leathers.
“All done?” Kurt asks dryly.
My cheeks heat, and I scowl to offset it. No one in this room has seen me blush before, save the man sitting really damn close to me.
Thankfully, Kurt doesn’t wait for an answer. “We have another job to do,” he begins without preamble. “The last one netted three-fifty profit after your shares. The problem is, we need half a million capital to equip for a big job I want to pull. So, we’re short.” He nods to Tasha.
“I’ve found a jewelry store in Beverly Hills,” she says.
“It’s a block from Rodeo Drive. I have enough info to take the cameras down, and we’ll hit it this Sunday night, around ten.
Late enough to be quiet, early enough that our presence won’t raise questions if we’re seen.
There’s an alley at the back for the van, plenty of access North to Mulholland Drive or Coldwater Canyon, West to PCH via Sunset.
” She pauses. “Private security respond fast around there, and we need to be gone before police helicopters show up. So we’re on a three-minute clock. ”
Dario stirs at that. “Three minutes? To get what, three hundred grand’s worth of jewelry, assuming fifty cents to the dollar at the fence?”
“And that’s the problem,” Kurt says. “We won’t get paid on this one, unless you want to push it to four minutes, which Tasha doesn’t recommend. Instead, think of it as a downpayment on the next job.” He meets our eyes, one by one. “Anyone got a problem with that?”
I don’t care. I’m doing it because Kurt’s calling in a favor. I know we’ll get paid eventually.
“Fine by me,” Cole says. “You’ve always done right by us.”
Dario murmurs his agreement.
“Forgive me for being the voice of dissent,” Declan begins, then spreads his hands, his left one almost touching me. “New boy. I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask what the big job is, and what payoff there will be?”
I look at Kurt, expecting him to do his scary-cold thing that halves Declan’s life expectancy. But he doesn’t, he nods as if conceding the point.
“I’m not telling you the details right now,” Kurt says flatly. “Let’s just say the payoff will hit seven figures, for each of us.”
“Consider me intrigued,” Declan says. He tilts his head. “This your job, Kurt? Or is it someone else’s?”
Cole goes still. Dario’s head comes up. Tasha regards him over the top of her laptop, the screen reflecting in her eyes.
“What do you mean?” Kurt asks.
“Just trying to get an idea of what I’m getting myself into. Did you mastermind this job, or is it being fed to you? How do you know about it?”
Kurt’s quiet for several seconds, while the tension builds. Declan’s knee presses against mine, his hands resting on his thigh. I don’t look at him, but I can tell he’s still relaxed, unbothered by the weight of Kurt’s gaze.
“Strange question for a rider,” Kurt says at last.
Declan doesn’t hesitate. “You know I’m more than that.”
Kurt nods. “I do. You want into the planning? Is that it?”
“For something this big, shouldn’t all of us be in at the ground level?”
“It’s a trust thing,” Kurt replies slowly. “Let me think on it. Meanwhile, the jewelry store. Are you in or out?”
Declan doesn’t reply. Instead, he turns to me. “Are you in?”
“Yes.” Why is he asking me?
“Good.” His hand comes down on my thigh, like he’s showing solidarity. And it stays there while he answers Kurt. “Then I am too.”
The eyes of everyone are on Declan’s hand, on my leg. Then they look away. Declan’s hand stays where it is, and it’s very warm through my leathers.
He hasn’t given Kurt his loyalty; with that simple act, he’s given it to me. What does that mean? Will Kurt accept it?
Half an hour later, the briefing is done, the plan for Sunday set up.
Two nights from today. The rush of adrenaline of another job mingles with my background arousal that isn’t even background anymore, not with Declan’s hand on me for all that time.
Even when he gestured to make a point, his hand came back, and I missed it while it wasn’t there.
“We done?” Cole asks, stretching his arms out. “I’m going to hit the gym.”
“I’ll come with you,” Dario says, getting up.
Kurt’s watching me, and Tasha’s making notes on her laptop. I’m not sure Cammy isn’t asleep; she’s sunk so far into that beanbag and her eyes are closed.
Declan doesn’t move while Cole and Dario collect their things and leave, his hand still on my leg, like he’s pinning me. Or claiming me. Marking me?
That image gets me up, and I carry my coffee cup back into the kitchen, stomach squirming as much as my thoughts. What do we do now?
Declan is talking to Kurt when I walk back out, but he breaks off, looking at me. “Ready?”
For what? To fall into bed with him again? For the pleasure he’ll bring me? To be hurt, again?
Not really, no. “Yes.”
“Grand. See you Sunday, Kurt, Tasha.”
Cammy’s definitely asleep. She looks kinda cute.
Tasha’s watching me with concern in her eyes, and I give her a reassuring smile back, conscious of Kurt’s gaze burning into me. I ignore him.
Declan leads the way down the stairs and I follow, heart pounding in my chest, palms sweaty. Do I know what I’m doing?
He stops outside, waiting for me. It’s gone eight, dusk falling, the shadows deep. Cole’s and Dario’s bikes are still there; the gym’s in walking distance.
“Would you like to come back to my place?” he asks, voice quiet in the still of the evening. “That way, if anyone leaves come morning, it’ll be you.”
He’s making every effort for me, and damn him if it’s not working.
But is this wise? I can’t think straight.
“I don’t know,” I say, avoiding his eyes. I’ll be lost if I look into them.
He steps forward, right into my space. I think he’s going to take me into his arms, kiss me maybe. But he doesn’t. Instead, he zips my jacket up, and I stand there unable to move, letting him.
“Where’s my little hellcat gone?” he murmurs. “Do you need a bar fight before we go back?”
I bristle at that, tightening my jaw, clenching a fist. I am not this lovestruck girl unable to think or act just because he slept with me once.
“There she is,” he says, that small smile he does playing with his lips. “Make a decision, Hellcat. Am I following you, or are you following me? Because I’m sure as hell not taking no for an answer.”
Confident bastard.
“I’ll follow you,” I find myself saying, if only because it still gives me the option to back out. All I have to do is turn off the road, anytime between here and wherever the hell he lives.
“Good.” He pauses. “We still skipping food? For my part, I’m only hungry for one thing.”
Me.
I feel both hot and cold at the same time, and it’s got nothing to do with the weather.
In answer, I walk to my bike and swing my leg over. “How far to your place?”
“Five minutes. Boyle Heights.” He’s already getting on his Fireblade, moving with his natural grace.
“Get going, mister,” I tell him as I pull my gloves on. “That’s about as long as I can wait.”
He chuckles, taking his time putting his lid and gloves on. Far too composed while I’m… not.
“I don’t need to tell you to keep up, do I?” he says, firing up his bike and riding out.
I swallow hard, asking myself if I know what I’m doing.
No answer comes back, so I do what doesn’t make sense.
I follow him.