Page 32 of Forever a Thief

I slide a hand through her dirty blonde hair, enjoying the bob of her head up and down my cock. Then she tightens her hold, fingers squeezing around my base, and I’m done. Lost in a haze of pleasure, I drop my head against the back of the couch and erupt, spurting my release down the back of her throat with a guttural growl. My heart is thundering like a race horse and I take a moment to catch my breath.

“Get up here.” I drag her up off the floor and settle her in my lap. She cups my face and we kiss each other senseless.

Holding her close to my chest, twining my fingers through her long, wild hair, I feel her lips press to the place right over my heart in the softest of kisses. “In the story,” she whispers, “the Cheshire Cat is known to vanish, leaving only his smile floating in the air.”

I suppose this is the moment I’m supposed to say I’ll never leave or let her go. But the words are stuck in my throat. The silence between us seems to grow louder and, as much as I hate it, I refuse to make promises I don’t intend to keep.

Chapter Twelve: Savannah

Instead of comforting me with reassuring words about how he’s not planning on going anywhere, Laurent clears his throat. “Really?” he murmurs evasively.

The way his entire body stiffens confirms what I’ve suspected all along—Rhys Laurent is nothing but a player. A good-time guy who has no desire to commit or have a relationship. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to me, but it still hurts.

God, we’re so different. I’ve known since day one that we come from two completely separate worlds. Yes, they’ve aligned for a brief time, and it’s been wonderful. But I have no business here in this fancy hotel suite or attending masquerade parties at homes that belong to billionaires. Rhys Laurent is a worldly and dashing thief without a care, while I’m just…me. Nobody special. Just a girl who works hard and wants to run a nice restaurant where people can enjoy a good home-cooked meal.

Shit. Tears burn the back of my eyes, but it’s my own damn fault. I knew I was getting in over my head the moment I opened the door at Charlie’s Place and Laurent stumbled in with the greenest eyes I’d ever seen and a bloody knife wound.

I fell for the wrong man once before, and I’m not letting it happen again.

Before a tear accidentally escapes and trickles down my cheek, I pull away and slide off his lap.

I’m deciding how to gracefully make my exit, when he stands up and stretches. “I’m going to take a shower.” He hesitates, as though hoping I’ll join him, but that can’t happen. Not if I’m going to walk away. No, it’s time to go cold turkey, and that means no more kissing, no more touching and, definitely, no more showering together.

“I’m just going to finish breakfast,” I murmur, reaching for another strawberry even though I couldn’t be less hungry. He nods, leans down to place a kiss on my head, and strides away. Once he disappears into the bedroom, I toss the strawberry back on the tray and sigh.

I should run straight out the door while he’s in the shower, but I can’t. There’s a very annoying part of me that doesn’t want to leave yet. But once he’s finished and comes back in here, we need to get down to business and have a serious talk about his investment plans. I can’t just hang out here in Denver at the Ritz for an indeterminate amount of time. I need to get back to Coronado and rebuild what I lost.

In the meantime, my attention lands on the old copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. After all the trouble we went through, there’s no guarantee he’ll ever figure out the clues lying within its pages. Whatever they may be.

Me, though? I’ve read this book a thousand times and can recite certain passages word for word. If something has been changed, I think I’d notice. Picking up the book, more so to seek out the comfort within its slightly worn pages than curiosity, I open the cover. The artwork is lovely and it’s in pretty good condition considering it’s over one hundred sixty years old. Carefully turning to page one, I begin reading and, like always, I fall right into the adventure, getting lost down the rabbit hole just like Alice.

By the time Laurent returns—because I refuse to call him Rhys—Alice just drank from a little bottle and grew as big as a house. Several strange things have jumped out at me while reading—things that have been changed. Clues?

I’m so engrossed in the story, I don’t look at him until the cushion beside me sinks and his hand covers my thigh. Glancing over, I see his thick, wet hair is slicked back and he’s wearing his robe, staring at me with a look that can only be called scorching. He’s far too tempting a sight, and I force my eyes back down to the book.

You are not sleeping with him again. You are not putting your mouth on him. You are not—

His hand slides beneath my robe. Touching me where I’m throbbing and already wet. Stroking. The book slides out of my hand, forgotten.

“Savvy?” His velvet voice reminds me of hot chocolate, rich and utterly decadent. And we all know indulging in too much chocolate is not good for you. But it’s sitting right there in front of me. Steaming. Sweet. Calling my name. Playing with my—

“Oh!” A needy gasp tears from my throat and my hips begin rolling all on their own. It’s like my traitorous body disconnects from my mind, telling it to shut up, and pure instinct takes over.

Okay, maybe one more time, and then I go home. I mean, we already fucked countless times last night and this morning, so it’s really not a big deal if we do it one more time. Right?

Because at this moment, Rhys is leaving me no choice but to surrender.

Fuckit. One more time. And then that’s it.

Three hours later, I stretch on the bed like a lazy housecat. One more time turned into three, but I’m not going to berate myself over the slip. After all, this is truly it. I’ll be leaving and returning to Coronado and our paths will probably never cross again. I’m not sure why that makes me so incredibly sad.

He’s a man of the world. You could never make him happy or keep his attention. Let him go.

Neither of us has brought up my departure today, and I’m not too sure why he hasn’t shuffled me out the door yet. To my surprise, he waltzes back in after getting rid of yet another condom, and sends me a sexy, dimpled grin. Yep, I count two indents.

“I’m hungry,” he announces. “Let’s order some food.”

I know we can’t keep hiding out here in the hotel’s suite, avoiding the real world for much longer, so I tell myself one more meal, and I’m going to broach the topic of getting a flight back to San Diego while we eat.