This Scottish gangster is twice the size of me. What would he be like in bed? Careful, aware of his size and not wanting to hurt me? Or rough and greedy? There’s a spark pulsing low inmy stomach, and it’s pulling me toward him like the tide to the moon.
“I want something.”
Now that smile curling the corner of his mouth is back. “Aye, lass?”
“I want you to teach me how to pick a lock.”
My insta-fiancé throws back his gorgeously shaped head and laughs. “Not quite what I was expecting, little fox. But as you wish.”
Chapter Eighteen
In which there is lock-picking and kisses. The really good kind. The kisses, not the lock-picking.
Kai…
“No, to the left a wee bit. Ya hear the tumblers click?”
Luna’s perched on a chair we dragged into the garage from the mud room. I decided to start her off on one of the secured cabinets there. Most modern systems use electronic locks, but I knew what she wanted: little tools and the satisfying ‘click!’ of the lock as she released it.
Adorable. Not a word I use often, but she looks fecking adorable right now, her eyes narrowed in concentration and her lower lip caught between her teeth. The lass has some skill, her long fingers manipulating the pick just so as she listens for the subtle sounds of the tumblers releasing.
“Hah! I did it!” The metal cabinet door swings open and my new fiancée is doing a victory lap around the garage. “I did it, I diiiid it!”
She’s circling my line of sports cars, parked in a perfectly even row, then my SUVs. “This is a lot of cars,” she pauses, leaning on the mirror finish of my McLaren Speedtail. “Do these all belong to your family?”
I wince slightly as she drops her lock pics on the hood. “No, these are all mine.”
Looking almost offended, she looks at the McLaren and then back at me. “This thing looks like the Starship Enterprise. And how often do you drive it?”
I could launch into a long explanation of their value and rarity, and the satisfaction of knowing all these beautiful automobiles reside in my perfectly ordered garage. I suspect though, that it would outrage her even further.
Leaning against my Bugatti Chiron, I circle back to our original discussion. “Is there a reason ya wanted to learn how to pick a lock?”
“Oh, um…” Brushing a lock of hair off her forehead, Luna deflates a bit. “When you put me in your room at the mansion, I was trying to figure out my next step. I thought you must have weapons stored in the desk but I didn’t know how to pick a lock. It seems I have not learned some crucial life skills.” She smiles wryly. “You probably learned this stuff in mafia school, huh?”
“I could unscramble a combination lock by the time I was seven,” I admit. “The science teacher at my prep school was an arsehole, always picking on the scholarship kids, several sent to school by my family. I used to leave roadkill, like squashed snakes inside his coat closet in the classroom. Once, I’d left a ferret that was apparently not dead, just napping. When he opened the door, it flew out of the closet, latching onto his face.”
It is then that I am hit with the full force of Luna’s deadly charm. An uproarious laugh escapes her, lighting her features and while she’s always lovely, she’s now heart-stoppingly beautiful. The laugh is a combination of glee and malice and feck me, but she is incandescent.
“The poor ferret!” she howls.
Taking the lock pick set from her, my hand slides up her wrist, wrapping my fingers around it and pulling her closer, spinning to pin her against the Bugatti. “A kiss for a lesson?”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Just one.”
The words are barely past her lips when mine land on them. My fingers slide into her hair, cupping the back of her head and I groan, something feral and uncivilized. All I can remember is chasing her through the forest, her sweet, ripe scent trailing behind her, a combination of peppermint and citrus, sharp and acidic from her fear but underneath it all the lush, sweet scent of her arousal.
Luna might have been terrified that night, but she was fierce, too. There was something else radiating from her besides rage and fear. Because I’m a sick fuck, remembering how turned on I was during that chase is making my dick hard enough to pound nails now.
Pushing her back against the car, I dip my head lower, tracing my mouth along her jawline and down the thin, silky skin of her neck. Her chest is heaving, pushing her pretty breasts against me and the feel of her, the warmth and that faint, sweet scent rising from her pussy coils in me, making me tighten my grip. I lift her onto the back of the car, pushing between her legs. Better, we’re the same height now and I can watch her expression as my teeth pull on her lower lip.
She likes that. Her knees tighten against my hips and for a moment, I think my little fox is going to bite me back. Then her hands land on my shoulders, shoving me back violently.
“You don’t get to touch me like youownme,” she snaps. “I said one kiss.” I put my hands up and she slides ungracefully off the Bugatti and marches back into the house.
Chapter Nineteen
In which we learn about the joke The Aristocrats. Yes, this is relevant.
