Chapter Seventeen A Taste of His Own Medicine
Adelina
Sunday
The good news is that the guards’ schedule doesn’t change at all. They’re very punctual. Clock in, clock out. Shift changes occur with surgical precision.
The bad news is that Berruci comes and goes on a whim, which makes it impossible for us to determine our window of opportunity. The last thing we want is to be in the middle of breaking in only for him to catch us as he’s coming home.
West stretches his arms, hands pressed to the roof of the car. He looks squished and uncomfortable behind the wheel. We’ve spent the whole week cooped up in here, but I’m proud to say that I haven’t murdered him out of sheer irritation. (An impressive feat of self-control, let me tell you.)
He yawns and rubs the back of his neck. “Movement by the west wing,” he says, his eyes trained on the villa. “Chip and Dale just hit their check-in point.”
I nod, confirming with my notes. It was his idea to give all the patrol guards codenames to help keep better track of everyone. “Which means Peanut and Butter will be up next,” I say.
“Excellent.” West rolls his right shoulder.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“Well, some say I’m so handsome that it’s dangerous. People have broken their necks trying to get a second look at me.”
I roll my eyes. “I meant your neck, Narcissus.”
He shrugs. “Hotel pillows. Slept kind of funny last night.”
I’m not sure what convinces me to do it, but I set my laptop down on the dash and reach out. “Here,” I say. I run my thumb down the back of his neck, applying a hint of pressure. His muscles are tight and stiff.
West seems surprised when I begin to massage in earnest. He’s so surprised, in fact, that he’s fallen completely silent.
No cheeky comment, no crude innuendos. He simply turns in his seat so I can see his full back and sinks into my touch.
I knead a knot I find around his middle trapezius.
He groans, low and rich, the sound igniting something in my belly.
I should be alarmed by the feeling, but I find it strangely enjoyable.
I like the solidness of his shoulders beneath my fingers. I like that I can help him in this small way.
“Oh,” he groans. “Right there.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. I don’t think he meant to sound so sexual, but damn. He could ruin a woman with a voice like that.
I move to massage his other shoulder. “How about this?”
“Fuck, Adelina, just like that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, baby. Give it to me good and hard.”
I lean over to catch his eye, squinting at him with suspicion. I’m not at all surprised when I find his smug grin. The son of a bitch is doing this on purpose. “A bit much, don’t you think?” I ask, failing to mask the amusement in my tone.
“It’s not my fault,” he says as he turns back toward me. “You make it too easy.”
I give him a gentle shove and laugh. “Asshole.”
“Who are you kidding? You know you love it.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“Oh, please. You think I haven’t noticed?”
I frown. “Noticed what?”
“How you so obviously want to kiss me.”
I take a deep breath and force myself not to take the bait.
All this teasing is starting to get on my last nerve.
What I really want is to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Knock him off balance. I think I would enjoy the challenge.
Without breaking eye contact, I lean forward and trail the tips of my fingers down his chest. It’s the barest of touches, the slightest ghost of a graze.
“Go on, then.”
His smile falters, slipping into something akin to surprise. “Oh?”
Before he has a chance to react, I climb over the center console and place myself on his lap, straddling him between my thighs. His hands instinctively fly up to my hips to keep me from losing my balance.
“It better be really good,” I continue, tilting my chin down to offer him the perfect angle. There’s barely an inch between us, my body pressed flush against his. “If you kiss me, I want to see stars.”
“That’s, um…a lot of pressure.”
“Not up to the task?”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, the cracks in his composure rising to the surface.
A laugh escapes me, a giddy and light sound from deep within my core.
It’s no wonder he’s always trying to tease me.
This is fun. But all good things come to an end, and I’m going to have to stop tormenting him at some point.
Besides, if this is a game he’s determined to play, I’d rather have the upper hand.
There’s nothing quite like leaving your audience wanting more.
He’s apparently part magician, after all. He should know.
“Our shift is over,” I say, climbing off his lap to retake my seat. “We should head back.”
His eyes linger, a bewildered grin tugging at the corner of his lips. It takes him a moment to collect himself before he finally clears his throat and twists the key in the ignition.