17. Improper Kissing
17
IMPROPER KISSING
Jake
I slowed as Ruby and her tour guide traversed the hall, passing three paintings that matched the style I’d seen in Willow’s gallery yesterday. It was difficult, though, to concentrate when Ruby’s dress was clinging to her body in all the right places, stirring up not-so-distant memories of how she’d felt in my hands.
The way she’d rubbed against me last night. The way her breath had caught when I’d roamed my hands over her.
Occupational hazard of having an off-limits partner, but I’d have to handle this desire. Namely, by boxing it up and ignoring the fuck out of it.
I focused on the art until Ruby rounded the bend in the hallway, out of sight. The paintings didn’t seem very good, but I knew more about recovering art than critiquing it. What could they be hiding?
Most people were creatures of habit. Con men could devise tricky schemes and clever cover-ups, but the subconscious could trip up even the best of them. A thief’s likes and dislikes were often guideposts on the path to cracking a case. Passwords, combinations, and locations were rarely truly cryptic. They usually meant something to the con man. Did the art mean something too? Eli liked art, so I needed to study the paintings and see what story they might tell.
Strolling down the hall, I ran my hand lightly along the first frame, looking for any clues. I didn’t expect Eli to have hidden a safe right there in plain sight, but something about this piece caught my attention. The heavy frame seemed to overbalance such an airy, contemporary piece. Didn’t modern art have lighter, simpler frames, or none at all? But this was a sturdy bastard.
Before I could investigate further, a crowd came by, and I had to tuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans and look nonchalant. Just a guy wandering down the hall. No big deal. Seconds later, Ruby and Clarissa emerged from a VIP room, heading away from me but close enough for me to hear.
“And there’s Eli’s office,” Clarissa said, pointing to a door at the end of the hall. “Now, let’s get you out to the dance floor. Amelia Stone is about to start.”
Once they were out of sight, I wandered past Eli’s office. I considered going in and sniffing around, but then someone opened the door from the inside. I glimpsed more artwork on the office wall before a large man filled the doorway, crunching on some kind of snack. Behind him, I spotted another of those distinctive Lynx artworks on the wall.
I adopted my best how did I wind up down this hallway look.
The big man swallowed his snack and raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you with something?”
“Just finding my way back to the dance floor. Looks like I need to backtrack.”
The man smiled. There were nuts in his teeth. Cashews, maybe. When he popped another handful into his mouth, I noted the snake tattoo curving down his arm. It flexed as the man turned to the office door and locked it.
Looked like I wouldn’t be scoping out the office that night.
* * *
I could have left the club then since Ruby’s tour was over and I’d poked around as much as I could. The plan was to compare notes the next morning, since she’d told me Eli would be away so there was no point stopping by his place. But the music was lively, the crowd was wild, and the sight of Ruby was magnetic. I was drawn to her and I couldn’t look away.
She danced near the small stage, her arms over her head, her hips swaying back and forth. The music shifted from pop to some sort of island tune, and with the floor-to-ceiling glass windows on this side of the club, she looked like she was in her element. Palm tree branches swayed beyond the glass, the ocean lapped the shore farther away, and Ruby seemed to embody the island beat, the lightness, the party of it all. Her blonde, wavy hair spilled down her back, and she danced like I imagined she might move underwater. Graceful, effortless, natural.
Huh. That was interesting.
Just last night when I bumped into her a few blocks away, she’d told me she couldn’t dance. Or was it that she didn’t dance? I wasn’t sure what she’d said exactly, only that it wasn’t true. She was hypnotic when she moved. It was impossible to look away, and I wasn’t the only one mesmerized.
I stood at the edge of the dance floor, eclipsed by the darkness of the purple lights overhead. I alternated between watching Ruby and keeping an eye on a trio of young guys, moving through the club in a predatory pack. They looked like college boys from the States. I didn’t like how they eyed the women on the dance floor, and I especially didn’t like the way they watched Ruby.
The blond one made his move, sauntering over to her and saying something way too close to her ear.
Oh, hell no.
I hadn’t planned to approach her in the club, but I found myself muscling through the packed dance floor to her and these visitors—Chad or Brad or whatever his name was. Because that shit was not going to fly.
When I reached her side, I not-so-casually dropped a hand onto her hip. She flinched at first and then seemed relieved when she saw it was me. Then she tensed again, probably wondering what had brought me to her side when we’d agreed to keep a distance—a distance that would be our cover. The less we were seen together, the better. But a few minutes by the darker edge of the stage, amid the huge crowd, was safe enough.
“Oh, hi,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the guy who’d been making a move before looking back to me. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
She sounded confused. Understandable. She searched my face for a sign something was amiss.
Something was definitely amiss. Dude-bro hadn’t gotten the message. I looked him in the eye and said distinctly, “Yep. Still here.”
The guy raised no-offense hands and wisely walked back to his friends. Mission accomplished.
Ruby turned to face me. “Is everything okay? Did you find something?” She raised her eyes to the second floor, as if I didn’t know where she meant.
“Tell you later.”
Her brow knitted then her confusion cleared and her lips parted in an O of understanding. “You mean, you came over here just because that guy was hitting on me?”
“I did. A woman like you doesn’t need a frat boy,” I said.
She arched an eyebrow. “And what does a woman like me need?”
I was mere millimeters from her, my head full of her coconut scent and the memory of how her skin had tasted and how wet she’d been when I’d touched her, how much she’d arched her back when she came, how she’d said my name into the night. This woman was scrambling my brain. She was knocking down my walls without even trying. Digging my thumb into her hip, I answered, “You need someone who knows how to savor you.”
That earned me a seductive smile. She raised her chin as the music pulsed from the stage. “Savoring is your specialty, I take it?”
I hadn’t cut across the floor to flirt, but being this close to her short-circuited my brain. “It’s my favorite hobby,” I said, letting go of her hip so my fingers could drift across the fabric of her dress. Her breath caught as I flicked her belly button right through the material. “I’d run my tongue across this ring, then properly kiss you all over. Every inch. That’s what you need. That’s what you deserve.”
“Proper kissing? Everywhere?” she asked, her voice breathy and low.
I splayed my palm over her flat belly, so eager to touch her. “Everywhere.” My thumb dropped lower, tracing a line along the waistband of her panties, making my meaning clear. “Everywhere along your beautiful body.”
She shivered, and her lips parted, but she said nothing. We’d promised to cool it, but the press of the crowd forced us unbearably close, and temptation was impossible to resist. “You deserve someone who craves the taste of your lips. The feel of your body. A woman like you deserves a man who understands the three-to-one ratio.”
She arched a brow in question “What’s that?”
I brushed strands of her blonde hair away from her ear to whisper, “I would make sure you came three times before I even did once.”
She gasped, and her lips fell open. “Can I have my second now?”
I smiled wickedly and said, “My greedy woman.”
“Can you blame me? You tortured me with promises of orgasms,” she said.
I stared into her blue eyes, all fiery with heat, then at her chest, a sheen across her dewy skin. She was so hard to resist.
And fuck it.
So much for resistance tonight. I’d start tomorrow.
I’d give myself one more moment with her. That was all.
“You can have it now, but only if you’re quiet,” I said.
“On the dance floor?” she asked, breathless and flushed with excitement.
“Considering I’m going to use my mouth, the answer would be no.”
Her eyes gleamed with yes and soon with god yes .
She held out her hand, and I took it. I led her off the dance floor, down the hall to a small bathroom. No stalls. This was a bathroom for one.
Or really, two.
The second the door snicked shut, I locked it, then pushed her against the wall and took her mouth in a merciless, passionate kiss that promised hard, hot sex that lasted all night. She moaned into my mouth, grabbing at my shirt and radiating so much want.
Good. I wanted her desire badly. Nothing turned me on more than winding her up. And, well, getting her off. I broke the kiss. She was panting with need. “Now,” she whispered, begging. “Kiss me properly.” Her eyes sparkled with naughty desire.
I crooked my lips into a grin. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m going to be very improper.”
“I know,” she said, then my desperate woman pushed on my shoulders.
I kneeled down, barely caring about the tiled floor. I had a job to do. One I took very seriously. One I adored. I pushed up her dress, pulled her panties to the side and exposed her slick heat. I groaned at the sight of her wet pussy. Then I wasted no time. I pressed a hot, passionate kiss to her clit.
Her hands flew around my head, curling in my hair. “Oh god.”
“Quiet,” I admonished.
She said nothing as I flicked my tongue over the gorgeous rise of her clit, sucking her, feasting on her.
She rocked her hips shamelessly against my face. I cupped her ass cheeks, pulled her closer, and kissed her silky wetness. She tasted like salt and honey. And her arousal made my cock throb harder. With each flick of my tongue, she grew wetter, thrust faster, gripped my head harder.
Soon, she was feverishly fucking my face with her pussy, and I was devouring her sweetness. I wanted to spread her out on a bed and worship her properly.
Or really improperly.
But tonight, I wanted to taste her climax on my tongue.
And I wanted it now. I gripped her ass harder, my fingers playing with her cheeks as I licked and sucked.
Till she was shaking, then trembling.
And I could taste her release on my mouth.
It only made me hungrier for her. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get enough of this woman. But I was sure I’d need to do better tomorrow.
When I rose, I wiped a hand across my mouth, met her gaze, and said sincerely, “Tomorrow I’ll try to resist you.”
She shuddered out a yes.
Her promise too.
Then, I tucked a messy strand of hair behind her ear. “By the way, you can dance.”
Her lips quirked up. “Yes, I can.” She studied me for a beat. “Does it bother you I said I couldn’t?”
The truth was it didn’t. I understood exactly why she’d peddled that half-truth. She didn’t know me then. She didn’t know what I was up to. And the fact that she’d fibbed told me she might make a fine partner after all.
Sometimes you had to lie a little to get the job done.
“No. Just don’t lie about this,” I said, gesturing from her to me.
“I won’t,” she said, then she pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “By the way, you still owe me one more before your number comes up.”
She turned around and left for the dance floor. I followed her there a few minutes later, staying several feet behind her during the show.
Damn, that woman could dance.