Chapter 24
24
Sloane
I know exactly what Davis is thinking.
Money runs the world, sweetheart .
That’s why he’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before. Like he has no idea who I am. Like I’m a complete and total unworldly idiot.
That’s what I’m thinking when he turns so his body lines up with mine, when he tucks our clasped hands behind my back and slants his mouth over mine.
Oh.
Oh .
This is unexpected.
But also— oh my god .
His lips—and his beard—and his body—and the way he smells like pine trees and s’mores and tastes like delicious temptation?—
Okay, yes.
I’m good with this man kissing me.
I’m— oooh god, he’s licking the seam of my lips, and I’m opening to him, and god , I miss kissing.
I miss kissing a man who knows how to kiss me.
I miss kissing a man that I trust to kiss me.
And it doesn’t matter that he was kissing me like this last night and also Saturday night.
That was a long time ago.
Ages.
Eons, even.
Especially when I know this could be the last time he kisses me.
The last time I’m ever kissed.
He pulls me tighter against him and deepens the kiss, his tongue stroking mine, our breaths mingling, his other hand curling into my hair while I cling to him like he’s my lifeline.
We’re alone.
There’s no one here to put on a show for.
I don’t think he’s trying to shut me up to make me quit talking about the ethics of pirate treasure either.
Not with that bulge pressing into my belly.
Again.
I think?—
I think he likes me.
And he can’t.
He can’t .
But…maybe he does.
And maybe he doesn’t want to, but he can’t help himself.
Very relatable, that.
He pushes me backward, still sucking on my tongue, and my butt collides with the worktable.
Yes.
Yes .
Maybe we can not-date but kiss.
Maybe we can have sex.
Fuck .
We can fuck.
Right here. On the worktable.
Be friends with benefits.
Yes.
Yes .
That would work.
I can be suspicious of him but still arch my belly into his hard-on, and devour his mouth like we haven’t done this twice in the past five days already, and fantasize about licking every single one of his countless tattoos while he tells me where they all came from and how they fit together so perfectly on his body.
Explore the ink that disappears below his waistband.
I want to see his penis.
Is it tatted too?
My nipples tighten and my panties become wet.
I’ve never slept with a man with a tatted penis.
Devil’s work , I hear Grandma saying.
I tell her to shut the fuck up and worry about her own damn eternity.
Not mine.
I don’t want eternity.
I want now .
Davis leans me back onto the table.
I let him, parting my legs to circle his hips while he hovers over me, fitting that glorious erection between my thighs.
Oh god.
Oh god .
We haven’t even taken our clothes off yet, and I’m hot and wet and ready and floating on hormones and ecstasy.
Probably because my body still acutely remembers how he can make me feel with just his tongue.
He likes me .
He’s dangerous.
Mysterious.
He has secrets.
Connections to the CIA.
Pirate ancestors.
This should turn me off, but instead, I’m clawing at his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders while he slides his hands under my shirt, chilly fingers sliding up my belly to caress my breasts over my bra, and oh my god , he’s pinching my nipples.
He’s kissing me and pulsing his pelvis against mine and pinching my nipples and I’m gonna come.
I’m going to orgasm right here, right now, because?—
“One last thing—Jesus Tortellini Christ, do you people ever not hump each other? Can’t go see my niece without the humping, can’t break into a goddamn museum without the humping. Fuck. Christ .”
I squeak.
Davis freezes.
His tongue is still in my mouth, and he freezes.
My eyes fly open.
His do too, and I’m suddenly staring at him too close, which makes it look like he has three fuzzy eyeballs because apparently I’m also my eyes are losing close-up vision years old.
He pulls his tongue out of my mouth.
Dammit .
Regrets?
No.
I like kissing .
I like sex.
I’ve done a lot of work to get over the guilt and shame hang-ups about it, even if I’m never having sex again because I don’t trust men, but I trust Davis.
Shit .
I will probably regret trusting Davis.
Correction.
I will definitely regret trusting Davis.
“What. The fuck. Are you doing. Here. Again ?” he says to John-Guido.
The man that I assume is a retired spy throws his hands in the air. “Fine. Fine. I’m retiring from retiring. Tell Lila I’m never seeing her again. I’m done. I’m just fucking done .”
“Is that keypad completely worthless?” I ask.
And yes, I sound like I’ve been riding him and my breath is coming too quickly and my eyes might still be slightly crossed because his thick erection is still nestled between my thighs, and even two layers of denim can’t stop my body’s reaction to him.
“Your boy left the door cracked,” John-Guido says. “And I’m leaving.”
“What do you know that you had to come back here for?” Davis still doesn’t pull his body away from mine.
We’re lying on the table like caught teenagers while he glowers at the old man.
“I know the blond caveman has an accomplice. And that’s all I’m saying.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know.”
“I’m calling Vanessa.”
John-Guido snorts, then sees himself out the door, slamming it shut as he goes.
Chuck appears in the other doorway.
He gives us a once-over, then turns around and walks away as well.
Davis straightens.
He doesn’t look at me while he adjusts his cock. Or while he exhales a long, slow breath out his nose.
Or while he mutters, “Sorry.”
For what? I want to ask.
For kissing me?
Or for us being interrupted?
I stare at his beanie-covered head as he crosses to the storage cabinet. I’m not brave enough to ask.
Because I don’t want it to be the former.
Even though the latter isn’t his fault.
And so he shouldn’t be sorry for that.
“Maps in here?”
I take solace in the fact that his voice isn’t fully normal.
He likes me.
But he doesn’t date either.
Trust issues. He told me so.
He probably broke every rule in his personal rulebook by kissing me and touching me and eating me last night.
I broke mine.
The two of us make quite the pair, don’t we?