38. A Type of Guy
38
A TYPE OF GUY
Jake
I dropped her suitcase on the tiled floor. The fan circled lazily overhead, stirring the gauzy white curtains that hung by the sliding glass doors. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her to the open balcony. The sun was still high in the sky and my room had a stunning view of the endless blue water. I also had a clear view of how to resolve this turmoil still roiling in my chest.
On the one hand, I was grateful she’d come to my hotel. I was hellbent on keeping her out of harm’s way. On the other hand, I damn well wanted her to know the truth of who I was, once and for all. No more lies. No more doubts. If we were working together—and that sure seemed to be the plan—we had to be on the same side.
Time to talk to her about the harder stuff. If not, this would be Rosalinda and the Medici job all over again.
That conversation would start like this…
“Just look,” I said, gesturing to the vast sea.
She gazed toward the water. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It is. And I’m showing you to make a point.”
“Okay?” She parked her hands on the railing.
I turned to her and met her eyes, fueled by remnants of frustration or hurt, but also by this new, powerful desire for her to know me. “Yes. I’m showing you this because it’s beautiful. Because you love the water. Because you are an outdoor girl through and through. Because I know these things about you.” I took her hands and clasped them in mine, squeezing. “I know already that the water calms you. I know the sunshine is like some kind of magic to you. And I know you love your mother with a fierceness that can move mountains. You’re like this warrior princess who’d go to battle for her, and even though I’ve never met her, I can picture her. I imagine she is the gentlest, kindest person in the world who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and you fight for her. Not because she’s the kind of woman who won’t fight for herself, but rather because she chooses not to. Am I right?”
Ruby swallowed down obvious emotion as she answered, “Yes. You’re right.” Her voice was soft. A warm breeze blew by, stirring up the ends of her pretty blonde hair. The moment was becoming romantic, fast.
As the waves lapped the shore in the distance, and boaters skipped over the blue waters, I clasped her hands tighter. “But what do you know about me?”
She parted her lips but didn’t speak.
“Ruby,” I said, fixing her with a sharp gaze, and then asked again, needing to set her straight, desperate to avoid another on-the-job mistake. “What do you know about me?”
“That you like ice cream?” She said it like a question.
I smiled but only briefly. “That’s a good start. What else?”
“That you like sweet things,” she said, squinting as the sun shone brightly overhead.
“Keep going.”
“That you’re motivated by your family.”
“Good. And?”
“And you hate it when bastards get away with anything.”
I tapped my finger to my nose. Bingo. “Know what else?”
“What?”
A knot of discomfort clogged my throat. But I pushed past it, speaking plainly, honestly. “I once dated a woman who nearly cost me a job. She tried to steal the artifact we’d teamed up to find.” The memory of how foolish I’d felt when Rosalinda stole it from under my nose haunted me. “I’d trusted her. I’d thought she cared about me. She’d only cared about the prize.”
Ruby’s eyes swam with sympathy. “I don’t even want the prize for me,” she said, raising her chin, meeting my gaze. “I’m after Eli to do right by my mom. To do what’s fair.”
“But it seemed this morning that you were playing me.” My tone turned rougher. “That when you saw me at the café, you were all sexy-snuggly because you thought I’d run. And outside the gallery, you were pretending to get cozy when you put your hands in my shorts, but you were only searching for stones even after I told you there weren’t any.”
“I was,” she said, dipping her face.
Nope. She needed to look me in the eyes. I let go of her hands, tucked a finger under her chin and raised her face. “Don’t fuck with my feelings. You know I want you. You know I like you. Just don’t fuck with me,” I said, as clear as if I were giving an order to my troops.
“I’m not. I won’t. I’m sorry.” Her tone was full of contrition.
That knot unwound. “So tell me the truth. Do I seem like the type of guy who’d screw you over?”
She sighed but smiled softly. “No. You don’t seem like that kind of guy.”
I brushed the back of my fingers against her cheek. Her skin was soft, and she smelled so good, like coconuts and the beach. “You tell me what kind of guy you think I am.”
She leaned into my hand. “A good guy,” she whispered, her voice breathy while her eyes never strayed from mine.
I was glad she’d said it. That I hadn’t put those words in her mouth. “A really good one,” she added, angling her hips, her body seeking out contact. I tugged her against me so the only thing she felt was how damn ready for her I was.
She drove me wild. She was a pistol, a fiery, sexy, determined, tenacious woman who made me crazy, and who I wanted fiercely at the same damn time. I backed her up against the railing, pressing my hard-on against her and caging her in with my arms. “Are you sure about the man in front of you?”
I pushed against her, letting her feel what she did to me.
She grabbed my shirt. “Can we please just fuck it out now?”
Yes. That. That was music to my ears. She’d come around, seen who I was, and wanted me even more. Or so I hoped.
“Yes, we damn well better fuck it out. Once and for all.”
I held her face. “In about one minute, you’re going to put your hands on the railing, bend over, and raise your skirt for me.”
Her eyes lit up, sparkling with a naughty kind of excitement. “Happily.”
“But first, I’m going to steal something. A hot, dirty kiss.”
Her breath caught.
I roped a hand through her hair, yanked her close, and planted a scorching, searing kiss on her delicious lips. She melted under my touch. My hands traveled to her leg, along the warm skin of her thighs, quickly finding what I wanted—the wet scrap of fabric between her legs. She was so damn turned on too.
Good. I needed all this wetness. It was mine. I’d earned it. She’d doubted me, and I’d proven who I was to her.
I was someone else as well—the man who fucked her good.
I groaned as I kissed her mercilessly, then tugged off her underwear, broke the kiss, and spun her around.
Covering her back with my chest, I wrapped her hair in a fist and tugged. She gasped and arched her ass higher. Yup. She liked a little rough play. I brought my mouth to her ear. “Do you like it hard? Do you like it rough? Do you like it angry?”
She turned her face to look at me with desire in her eyes. “I like everything with you.”
“Good answer.” I grasped her chin and held her gaze, staring at her. “Stay here.”
I headed inside, grabbed a condom, and returned to the gorgeous sight on my balcony—Ruby, with her sundress bunched up above her hips, her panties on the ground, and her lovely, delicious body ready for me.
I grabbed the hem of my shirt and yanked it off, then unzipped my shorts enough to take out my length. “You need my cock now, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“So badly,” she moaned.
I rolled on the condom, so damn ready. So damn needy. I wanted to banish all the frustration that had stemmed from our cat-and-mouse games. No better way than the physical. It was the one thing that didn’t lie. It was a language comprised only of truth. There was no doubt in the way she glistened for me. In the lift of her hips, the look in her eyes, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed hard.
There was nothing but truth to the way I ached to fill her.
I positioned my dick at her slick entrance, and in one delicious thrust, I pushed inside my woman. All the way. I snaked an arm around her chest, sliding my hand between her breasts and up to her neck.
I wrapped a hand around her throat, not too tight, not hurting. Just letting her know, like this, that she belonged to me. I squeezed gently with my thumb as I fucked her.
Like that, with a rough, hard rhythm, I showed her the truth.
“This, Ruby. This isn’t a lie.” I growled in her ear.
“I know,” she panted, gasping as I drove into her.
“This is the truth. The way we fit like this.”
“It feels so good,” she said, her voice rising as I moved in her.
It was the purity of the connection—that was what had brought us together in the first place. And on this balcony, overlooking the sea, with all the tourists below who had no clue diamonds were being stolen across the land, and hearts were being toyed with, and heists were being plotted and replotted, I proved the one thing I could.
That this connection between us was real. It was honest.
It might not last. It might have an expiration date. But for now, as I thrust into her, this was as true as the sun blazing overhead. It was as real as the waves crashing onto the shore.
She rose up on her toes, bowed her back, and gripped the railing. I dropped my hand from her throat, grabbed her hips, and took her hard. She moaned and cried my name. Soon her cries were coming faster, and I was sure someone else in the hotel might hear, but sure, too, that I didn’t care. Not as she clenched around me and whispered that she was coming.
She shuddered several times and I followed her there, my own orgasm blasting into every corner of my body. As pleasure whipped through me, the world winked off.
I wrapped my arms around her, held her close, kissed her neck, then at last, eased out.
After I disposed of the condom, I scooped her into my lap on a deck chair, and held her. She let me, looping her arms around my neck. Yes, this was the opposite of her flopping into my lap earlier. This was real. “I’m sorry someone broke into your room,” I said softly, then kissed her cheek.
“Me too.”
“You’re safe with me. Know that, Ruby. Just know that.”
“I do know that. And I do know you, and I like you.”
“Same here,” I said, then wrapped my arms around her.
I liked this contact too, far too much for my own good.