I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you think you’ll ever paint again?”
Her eyes blinked a few times as she considered it. “Why? Do you want me to be your sugar mama?”
I pinched her butt. “You know that’s not why I’m asking.”
She jumped at the pinch of pain, slapping my hand away and smiling. “I don’t know. I mean, my privacy is worth everything to me, more than any amount of money. This all got a little too close to the truth, you know. Besides, something has shifted. I don’t feel like I need it anymore. I want to take on a new challenge.”
I tickled her, coaxing a squeal to pass her lips. “Like thievery?”
She nodded, eyes wide. “Exactly! Bee was telling me about the art still missing since World War Two, and I want to find it. I hear finder’s fees are quite lucrative.”
“A little thing like you, tracking down Nazis?”
She scoffed. “If Marion could do it inIndiana Jones, then I can too. Besides, you’re coming.”
Our phones dinged in tandem, and I picked mine up. Tapping the screen, I saw it was from Bee.
Bee:Come down. I have outfits! It’s time to get ready.
Me:Please, no outfit for me, right?
Bee:Just come down. Let’s go! ??
Placing my phone down, I reached an arm around Sybil with devious intention. Her eyes hooded, and I growled. We’d been insatiable.
Both phones dinged again in rapid succession. Bee knew us too well.
I stopped my advance andsighed. “As much as I want to stay here, we should go before she paces a hole in the rug. I feel like I can hear her doing it.”
Sybil pouted but reached for her discarded bra. “She won’t stop. She’s worse than Mr. Beans when he wants his cat sushi, and that’s your fault.”
I guffawed. “The man knows what he likes. I can’t blame him.”
She gave me a sly glare as she walked away naked, disappearing into the bathroom. I cursed Bee for interrupting.
I was also a man who knew what he wanted. I’d already purchased an antique ring from our personal collection at Beaumont. It was 19th century, of unknown origin, but a beautiful, pure white diamond set in gold. There were leaves and flowers molded all around the band, and a detailed setting that reminded me of her gentle, creative soul.
Slipping out of bed and heading for the closet, I grabbed it from the box where I’d stashed it. I admired it before putting it on a chain around my neck, tucking it under my shirt. If all went well tonight, I was going to propose to her.
Once we made it downstairs to the front living room, we saw Bee standing impatiently, her hand on her hip, fingers tapping. She had two garment bags in hand.
“Finally,” she announced before she opened the first bag, pulling out a long black jumper that zipped up the front. She shook it out, held in front of her to show it off, then tossed it to Sybil. “Spandex!” she sang.
Sybil held it up, a puzzled expression on her face. The fabric was a wrinkled mess, hanging limp and shapeless on the hanger like a pile of spaghetti. Getting it oriented correctly,she put a foot through one leg. It took a lot of shimmying on her part. It was skin-tight, and I helped her stretch the fabric as I smoothed it up and over her body.
Bee grumbled with effort, tugging at her own full-body suit. “I should have eaten fewer nuggets last night.”
Pulling the zipper from Sybil’s lower belly up past her breasts to her neck, I had to appreciate Bee’s handiwork in getting the outfits made. Sybil, as always, looked amazing in head-to-toe black; the outfit fit her like a glove. Though basic leggings and a tee would’ve been fine, Sybil insisted on a cool look, and this played into the movie-thief vibe we were used to seeing in theaters.
Sybil’s body pressed against mine as I gathered her hair in a ponytail before fastening it with a tie. I tugged it once, tilting her head back to kiss her on the nose.
“Catch,” I heard Bee warn, one second before she tossed something our way.
I caught it, seeing it was Sybil’s taser and holder. I clipped it around her waist and stood back, admiring the look on her.
“My petty thief,” I murmured, moving back in to kiss the top of her head.
I helped her into a pair of Dr. Martens, with a thinner sole than her usual thick ones so she could more easily maneuver the task at hand. She was ready for this.
