Chapter 30 Hope
Hope
Lucia’s body was heavy—the type of leadenness that made you feel as if you might never move again.
Yet her heart still raced, and looking up at Penelope’s flushed face made her stomach clench.
But this was more than just sex. A feeling of genuine joy rushed over her whenever she looked at Penelope, and, in this moment, her heart was full.
While her primary goal in seeing Penelope tonight had been to clear the air and figure out where they stood, she’d be lying if she claimed she hadn’t been hoping for just this ending.
“Hey,” Penelope said. “Are you all right?”
Lucia smiled. “More than that.” She circled her arms around Penelope’s neck and pulled her down, once more connecting their lips in kisses that escalated quickly. She lifted her leg and pressed her thigh against the juncture of Penelope’s legs.
Both women groaned when Penelope’s wetness bathed Lucia’s thigh.
“You were saying about being wet?” Lucia nibbled at Penelope’s lower lip.
“Can’t have you outdo me, now, can I?” her voice an almost breathless rumble.
“No, we sure can’t.” Lucia’s hands found Penelope’s ass, and she encouraged her lover to ride her thigh while kissing her deeply.
Penelope ground her hips, her fingers digging into the pillow beside Lucia’s head, just as lost in their union.
She shifted her hands and lowered her leg, smiling into the kiss when Penelope let out a frustrated-sounding grunt. Lucia trailed her fingers along Penelope’s hot inner thigh before gliding her fingertips through velvet, slick heat.
Penelope moaned, pressing down her hips.
“Patience, no?” Lucia whispered.
“Oh, hush,” Penelope ground out.
With a low chuckle, Lucia’s fingers meandered lower, massaging Penelope’s entrance, but not pressing inside.
Yet it seemed Penelope was having none of it. She grunted, and in a swift motion, grabbed Lucia’s hand, guided it beneath her, and sank down onto her fingers. Her eyelids fluttered closed as two of Lucia’s digits entered her core.
“Yes.” Penelope leaned her head back, and with her eyes closed, she rocked her hips at an ever-increasing pace.
Lucia swallowed hard, spellbound by the sight of Penelope above her: dark hair tumbled down her back, lips parted as her teeth tugged at the corner of her mouth, her cheeks pink with exertion as she rode Lucia’s fingers.
Her hand strained, but Lucia hardly noticed, too transfixed on watching Penelope chase her pleasure.
Penelope slowed down and bent, her hair like a curtain around them, the strands whispering along Lucia’s skin and raising goosebumps in their wake as Penelope licked into Lucia’s mouth.
Arousal shot through her. She pulled out, found Penelope’s clit, and drew fast circles over the sensitive flesh—until Penelope twitched, broke the kiss, and moaned against her lips.
“Come up here.” Lucia grabbed Penelope’s hips and pulled, urging her up.
“What?” Penelope seemed dazed, her eyes almost glassy.
“I want to taste you.”
Penelope froze, her breath catching, jaw tensing—then she rose, slow and unguarded, and scooted forward until she hovered over Lucia, who tightened her hold and pulled Penelope toward her waiting mouth.
Sobbing, Penelope rounded her back and seized the headboard when Lucia licked through her folds with hard and quick strokes.
Lucia tightened her grip on Penelope’s ass, encouraging her rocking motions as she got lost in the flavor and sensation of Penelope.
The bed frame creaked as their bodies danced in an ancient rhythm. Sweat glistened on their skin, and Penelope’s panting filled the room.
Lucia’s heart torpedoed in her chest, and her arousal, her need to feel Penelope fall apart, almost consumed her. She slid her tongue higher, stroking Penelope’s clit fast, adding pressure before dipping lower and pressing inside, overcome by the tangy flavor on her tongue.
Penelope grunted, her hips moving faster as her body seemed to chase her release.
Her patience snapped, and as it did, Lucia once more focused on Penelope’s clit, intensifying her efforts until Penelope froze above her—a stuttered gasp bled from her lips as she shook in hard tremors, calling out her release into the room.
Penelope slackened, and Lucia slowed, lapping at her folds, pressing a lingering kiss against damp curls before reaching up, steadying Penelope and guiding her back down.
“God, you almost killed me.” Penelope sounded breathless, and a sliver of pleasure shot through Lucia at having catapulted Penelope into such a state.
“That would be a shame. The night is still young, and I have plans for you.”
“Give me a second.” Penelope snuggled closer with a sigh. “I want to enjoy the afterglow.”
“Of course.” Lucia pulled her in and kissed the crown of her head.
They fell asleep later, after thoroughly exhausting themselves—it had been a while since Lucia had spent all night having sex. When she woke up, stretching, she opened her eyes to Penelope watching her avidly.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“It is indeed. And it’s the weekend, so there’s like a law that requires you to sleep in.”
“Is that so? What’s the penalty if you violate it?”
Lucia placed her finger against her lips. “Let’s see. How about…have breakfast with me?”
Penelope laughed. “How is that a punishment?”
“I don’t know, but it’s hard to think about penance when you look at me like that.”
“Aww.” Penelope leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on Lucia’s lips. “You can go shower if you want, while I make us some coffee. Or tea?”
“Yes, please.”
“To what?”
“The shower and the tea.”
“Eggs and toast, or are you more a cereal kind of person?”
“I don’t eat cereal, but you really don’t need to go through all that trouble.”
“I have to eat, too, no?”
“I suppose.”
“Now, go.” Penelope shooed Lucia out of the bed. “There should be a pack of shower caps in the top drawer.”
Lucia did a double take. Shower caps. The quiet thoughtfulness of it caught her off guard.
“Oh, great. Thank you.” And with that, she headed to the bathroom.
After a quick shower, Lucia joined Penelope in the kitchen, helping to set the table before enjoying a calm and peaceful breakfast.
Lucia’s gaze hardly left Penelope, drawn to her hair spilling over her shoulders, the way her hands cradled her mug.
They didn’t even talk about work, or anything else related to their extralegal adventure, and at some point, when Penelope laughed out loud at something Lucia said, she nearly gaped in quiet awe.
She wasn’t sure what home was, but this felt dangerously close: easy, sun-drenched, filled with laughter and Penelope. The realization stirred a fragile hope—that she could belong, that this could be a part of her future.
~ ~ ~
Lucia was still grinning like a fool when she entered her home Sunday afternoon. She and Penelope had agreed to meet again the following weekend, this time at Lucia’s.
At that thought, Lucia halted and looked around. She lived alone and had an art studio next door, so her place should’ve been neat.
It wasn’t. She wasn’t a slob, but organization had never been her strong suit.
Well, she had a week, but she also knew postponing often meant things wouldn’t get done. So she set to cleaning, envisioning what Penelope would notice—which details would catch her eye when she gazed around her home.
Halfway through, her phone rang.
Francesca.
She sighed and picked up. “Hey. What’s up?”
“I need you to come over tonight. We have some…concerning news.”
“Oh, OK. What time?”
“Come by at eight.”
“Will do.” She glanced at the time, 5:15 p.m. She would still be able to finish her cleaning, eat a little something, and head over.
By the time she made it to Francesca’s, Skye and Jules were already there, seated and unusually quiet. Lucia slipped into the chair beside Jules, bracing herself.
Francesca sat down as well.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. We’ve talked about retrieving the Madonna from the warehouse. It’s still there for now. But according to my sources, there’s a new shipment scheduled, and Varnelli intends to move the Madonna out of the country.”
“When?” Lucia asked.
“This coming weekend. We need to act before then.”
“What if it’s a trap?” Skye said. “They had access to our communications. Who knows what else they know?”
“No one has used the devices since the ball, and I assume you haven’t discussed any of our plans elsewhere?”
Skye gave a sharp shake of her head.
“No,” Jules and Lucia said at the same time.
“Then it shouldn’t be a concern.”
“And you trust your sources?” Jules asked.
Francesca’s gaze sharpened, but Jules didn’t flinch.
“It’s not an accusation, and I know you’re not careless. But this is personal, and when things get emotional, we sometimes miss the warning signs.”
“I haven’t missed anything,” Francesca said tightly. “The intel is solid. But if you’re unsure, no one is forcing you to stay involved.”
Lucia clenched her jaw, her gaze darting between Francesca and Jules. She could only hope the cracks between them wouldn’t widen before the job had even started.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m in. I just don’t want us to get screwed over by emotions,” Jules said.
Francesca gave a curt nod. “Agreed.”
There goes my weekend plan.
Still, a part of her lit up at the idea of being done—one last mission, one last run, and then Francesca would finally have her Madonna back.
And dare she even think it, Lucia would be done. She could move on, finally find her footing in a world free from clandestine jobs and art that wasn’t hers.