20. Paige
Paige
I can’t believe I let Vanya Orlov drive me to an orgasm in a department store dressing room. First the kiss in the library, followed by the orgasm at the restaurant, and now this. I’m starting to think I have a fetish for sexual acts in public.
Still, I can’t bring myself to regret what happened. The way he gazed at me afterward—like I was the most precious thing in the world—has sent my mind into a tailspin.
Eventually, I picked out a suitable pair of jeans, another outfit, and some accessories, including a black leather crossbody. Then we ate at a hole-in-the wall coffee shop.
Now, we get out of yet another taxi in front of a bar. Instead of venturing inside, though, Vanya heads down the street and away from the Club District.
Into the night.
After the day I’ve had, I’m not even going to question him.
He leads me two streets over before turning down an alley. A restaurant with all the lights off sits on the far side. Despite the customer-only signage, the attached parking lot is full.
Vanya strides into the lot, moving the same way he did during our shopping spree.
The chunky boots he picked out give me height, which strangely bolsters my confidence. The leather jacket helps me blend into the crowds and the shadows. My new black crossbody sits tucked under my jacket, the leather warm against my ribs through the red waffle knit.
I’m made up like someone who belongs in darkness, and the thrill this novelty elicits buzzes beneath my skin. “So, what are we doing here?”
Vanya swishes his hips as he wanders through the rows of parked vehicles. “Looking for a good car to steal.”
My jaw drops.
Heat starts low in my belly and spreads outward.
Car to steal.
The words set off fireworks of pure, forbidden joy.
When I was twelve, I added that to my bucket list. The one I’d started in my diary and wrote with a purple gel pen.
Grand theft auto. Right between “kiss a boy with a motorcycle” and “break into somewhere I’m not supposed to be.”
This would be the last item on my incredibly brief list.
Vanya glances at me with raised eyebrows. “You up for it, archivist?”
I nod.
Vanya tests door handles with practiced ease. “That’s my girl.”
I trail behind, my stomach fluttering from his praise. I’m sure someone will hear my hammering heart and come investigate.
But no one does.
“Here.” He opens the passenger door of a gray Nissan Altima and leans over the seats to unlock the driver’s door. “Get in.”
What a gentleman. I just might swoon.
Okay, maybe not, but the gesture does send a tingle straight down to my toes.
He slides into the passenger seat. I follow, my fingers shaking as I pull the driver’s side door shut behind me. The dome light dies, and blackness shrouds us.
Immediately, my brain jumps out of the car, rolls through the parking lot, and falls directly into the gutter.
Vanya reaches into his jacket and extracts a small leather case. “I’m going to walk you through this. It’s easier than you think.”
He unzips the case to reveal an array of small tools.
The zipper rippling down my chest kick-starts my imagination. Oblivious to my lustful thoughts, Vanya begins removing tools from the case. A screwdriver. Wire strippers. Electrical tape.
He leans across the center console. “Pop the panel under the steering column.”
Even though I already know, I nod. I’ve read more than enough books on how to do this, some with detailed diagrams of ignition systems.
The principle is basic, if I could just pay attention to the task instead of Vanya’s proximity.
In my head, I’m adding a new thing to my bucket list.
Public sex in a stolen car.
Easy there, Paige. Focus on the task at hand instead of fantasizing about getting a Russian mobster in your pants.
First, I find the battery and starter wires, then I go through the motions in my head.
Theory is one thing. Practice is another.
I twist awkwardly, nearly folding in half in the seat as my fingers fumble to find the edge. In the enclosed space, the panel comes free with a deafening crack.
A light blinks on right next to my face.
“Good. Now, you’ll see a bundle of wires. Pull them down.” Vanya practically lies on top of me as he points with the thin beam from his flashlight.
My body thrums where his chest touches my shoulder.
“Strip the red one first.” His lips nearly brush my ear. “Careful. Don’t cut too deep.”
Exhaling quietly in the dark, I strip it.
He continues giving me instructions I don’t need, and I keep following along with trembling hands.
A white Dodge Charger rolls past our parking spot like a shark cruising in shallow water.
Not cops. Police would have their headlights on.
This is worse.
Panic slams into me, and my breath catches. The wire cutters slip in my sweaty grip.
“Easy.” Vanya soothes me with his soft voice while his hand steadies mine. “They can’t see us. The windows are dark, we’re low, and we’re sitting in the shadows. Just like all the other cars in this lot.”
Which is why no sane person should park here. Doubly why no rational person should be committing felonies here. But with Vanya’s body heat making me sweat, I’m far from sane or rational.
His other hand slides to the back of my neck, his thumb stroking the rapid pulse at my throat. The act should feel threatening.
“Breathe, Paige.”
An erotic thrill spirals up my hands as the sedan continues its slow crawl past the lot entrance.
Vanya’s tongue caresses my skin as he licks his lips. “Of course, if you really want to sell it, you could moan a few times. Call out my name. We could even get the car rocking to really play it up.”
Desire floods my body.
The image of Vanya’s mouth on mine springs to mind unbidden. The visual of him leaning against the driver’s door, with his weight on top of me. Fog steaming the windows. The squeaking car. Anyone walking past would know exactly what was happening.
I clench my thighs against the sudden rush of lust that zips through my blood.
The sedan disappears around the corner.
“Back to work.” Vanya clicks on the flashlight, which I hadn’t noticed he’d switched off.
Just like that.
Concentrate on something other than your pussy. Good lord, woman, you’re never going to get this done if all you can think about is doing him.
I secure the wires together with electrical tape so they won’t slip loose while he’s driving.
When the engine turns over with a cough, pride surges through me.
I actually did it.
“Natural talent.” Vanya shoots me a wicked grin. “I knew you had it in you.”
Not the thing I wish I had in me, though.
A burst of need jolts through me, causing my elbow to jerk and slam against the steering wheel.
The horn blasts, sharp and obscenely loud in the quiet street.
I freeze.
“Well, maybe not.” Vanya offers a low, dark laugh. “Rookie mistake.”
“It’s not funny.” My voice comes out strangled. “What if someone heard—”
“Plenty of people heard. That’s why we need to leave. Immediately.” He’s not laughing anymore, but amusement still glints in his eyes. “Drive the car, Beautiful.”
He’s already strapping himself in and settling back in the passenger seat.
I do the same. I’d rather not get pulled over for a crime as basic as a seat belt ticket when I’ve just stolen a car.
That rookie mistake might end with a night in jail.
Grinning like an idiot, I hit the streets. Later tonight, some stranger’s going to walk back to that parking lot, and it’ll take them days to figure out their car was stolen and not just towed.
I feel like a different person. Someone better. Stronger.
A woman who lives life to the fullest.
Vanya adjusts the rearview. “Take the next right.”
I push his hand away and readjust it. “What do—”
“Make a right turn.” His eyes keep shifting from mirror to mirror. “You need to check for tails.”
I follow his directions, my heart hammering the whole time.
“Speed up. Match traffic. Check your mirrors. Tell me what you see.”
I glance up into the river of headlights in all my mirrors. “Cars. Lots of them.”
He snorts and shakes his head.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for!” My attempt at not sounding defensive fails.
“Same car appearing more than once. Unusual spacing. Anyone matching our speed changes. These are all signs of being followed. Though, sometimes, they’ll use two cars so they can take turns trailing and getting ahead of you. To throw you off.” He’s still watching behind us, tracking every vehicle.
Swerving, changing lanes erratically, making sudden turns, speeding up and slowing down… That’s how he drove this morning.
Realization hits me.
He was driving like that because someone placed a tracker on the car he had delivered last night, before we left the house. That explains all the taxi-switching and the grand theft auto.
I’m not sure what’s happening. Nothing I’ve ever read or experienced can explain this.
Which means I have to trust Vanya to take care of us.
Trust him. There’s some food for thought.
“When I say go, you’re going to accelerate hard, take the next right, then immediately turn left onto that residential street.”
I stare at the intersection I’m approaching, a crossroad with lights and a steady stream of traffic from all sides. Though it’s well past rush hour, plenty of traffic remains as people enjoy the Chicago nightlife.
“Slow down.” He focuses on the stop light ahead. “Wait…”
I ease my foot off the gas, and we start to decelerate.
The light changes to yellow.
“Go!”
I floor the pedal, blowing through the intersection as it turns red.
Everyone behind us gets caught at the light.
At this speed, the right turn threatens to break the tires loose. They catch as I brake and spin the wheel left. I get everything back under control and continue down the road as I wait for the next direction.
“You’re a natural.” Vanya actually applauds, the clap echoing oddly in the car. “Most people panic and overcorrect. You were perfect.”
The warmth in his voice fills me with pleasure.