Cool lips press against mine, molding the surface with a challenge he has no chance on winning. His hips lift beneath me, the bulge in his pants noticeably harder with this new position.
Snagging his lip with my teeth, I tug on his bottom lip before sweeping my tongue inside his mouth. His body twists slightly, the rough pad of his thumb sneaking up beneath my wet hair to grab the back of my neck.
I grind down against him, feeling my pussy clench against the cold wet surface of his cargo pants. Squeezing my neck, he lifts me up and sets me higher on his hips, keeping my tongue occupied with the warm cavern of his mouth.
My knife scrapes the delicious stubble gracing his jaw, the razor edge shaving off a patch of sexy fucking hair. It gets lost in the midst of wandering hands and thrusting hips, but next time I’m bringing an envelope to steal some for myself.
I fuckinglovedark hair.
“Calista.”
His voice is drowned out by the suction of my lips, eagerly sucking his tongue back into my mouth. Nipples sharp enough to cut diamonds press painfully against my sports bra, thebitter combination of freezing rain and a hot body beneath me enough to drive my hips back down on the bulge in his pants.
Except the bulge seems to have disappeared.
“Awe, does this baby suffer from performance anxiety?”
I’m teasing him, rubbing against him like a kidnapper in heat, but all he does is smirk back.
“Sorry, darling. Looks like I wasn’t just happy to see you.”
Pop. Click.
I look down and find a grenade pressed tight against my stomach. A grenade that was clearly hiding in the front pocket of his cargo pants.
Christopher’s boyish grin is back in full force, the safety pin hanging from the tip of his little finger.
Son of a bitch.
Chapter 9
CHRISTOPHER
It’s a good thing I never leave the house unarmed.
Calista’s eyes narrow for a split second before she throws herself off me, sprinting for the bushes before the explosive can detonate. The spandex hugging her ass looks even better from this angle, and if it weren’t for the ticking bomb in my hand, I would take an extra second to enjoy the view.
Big sigh.
Chucking the grenade over my shoulder, I haul myself off the ground and wince when a blast of heat slaps me right across the face. If I hadn’t already been missing some facial hair from Miss Drache, I most certainly would be now.
Leaves and dirt join the rainfall, the impact of the explosion minimal enough to keep the nearby trees standing. Mud and debris cling to my shirt, the soaked material plastered tight against the lines of my body.
If my pants were an inch thinner, the semi I’m sporting would be showcasing the gems of my labour.
Ignoring the urge to race after the blonde, I set out at a brisk pace in the opposite direction. It’s been the same routine for the past few days now, but thanks to the information Jasper sent over last night, I’m finally ready to make a move.
The green wall of the Queen’s Maze looms ominously to my right, the impenetrable hedge a gateway to the forbidden parts of Wolf Hollow. It’s a tempting offer, especially for a no-good thief like me, but the cost of accessibility comes with too high of a price.
A piece of your sanity for a window of possibilities.
I’ve lost enough over the years to know no possibility is worth losing the one thing that’s always been mine.
A deer dashes across the path in front of me, the prance in its step far too optimistic for this part of town. Dense foliage surrounds us, the occasional call of a crow filling the silence in-between.
I press on, following the landmarks I’ve placed over the last seven days. Notches on tree trunks are subtle but easy to miss, so I like to add ribbons every few hundred feet to make sure I’m on trajectory.
Blue ribbon means I’m on the right track. Yellow means I’ve veered off course.
