Page 17 of Steal My Heart
“Where’s my money?” I snatch my phone from her nimble fingers, pocketing it in my interior jacket pocket.
“Ah ha! I guessed you were that man’s boss,” she says triumphantly. “It’s in my storage unit. Well, most of it. I did make a few necessary expenditures.”
“Necessary expenditures,” I repeat incredulously.
“Like paying for the storage unit,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Can’t leave that much cash lying around my apartment, not with my creepy landlord threatening to let himself in with his key. Plus, I had to use some of the cash to pay rent, so I wouldn’t have to fuck his disgusting ass,” she says in a rush, and I see red. “That reminds me, how long are you going to keep me prisoner? I need to get back and check on Nola.”
“Who’s Nola?” My mind’s still spinning from her first admission.
“My cat. But don’t tell her she’s a cat; she thinks she’s a person,” Remi says, her words a mile a minute. “So, are we going to pretend you didn’t just threaten to kill me?”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“Egyptian cotton high thread count and chamomile tea,” she spouts off.
“What?”
“What helps me sleep at night.”
I wrap my hand around her throat, her eyes going wide. “Remi.”
“Yes?” She licks her lips nervously, reminding me that I’ve had a taste. One that she hustled out of me. But my, how the tables have turned.
I yank her into my lap, us sharing the same breath. “Stop talking.” My mouth claims Remi’s with the flick of my tongue, and those little mewls of hers only fuel my desire. I want to punish Remi for being too damn clever for her own good. To make her submit to me. To learn all her secrets and hold her hostage with them.
This silly witch dress is in the way, and with a frustrated growl, I grab it at the bodice and rip it clean in two. The gauzy material flutters to the deck as I pull back, taking in the slope of her breasts, her chest heaving.
“You owe me a dress,” she says breathlessly.
“Add it to your list of necessary expenditures.” I grab her lacy bra, yanking both cups down as her breasts jiggle out. “Of course, these are perfect.” I groan, my eyes raking over her rosy, erect nipples. Angling my head, I flick her right nipple with the point of my tongue, and the most sensual of moans escapes Remi’s mouth.
Needing unfettered access, I unhook her bra with one hand. It joins the discarded pile as I trace a small butterfly tattoo on her ribcage, her skin prickling in the night air.
No honor among thievesis written in fluttery script beneath it. “A motto?”
“A lesson.” Her once pliable body is now stiff as a board.
Remi
A lesson I would be wise to remember, present company included.
“What’s wrong?” Angelo asks.
I swing my leg to dismount from his lap. The man could stop me if he wanted to—and by the bulge in his designer suit pants, he wants to—but he lets me scramble off him.
“I need clothes,” I say, yanking up my bra, my cheeks flaming.
He shrugs out of his suit jacket and hands it over, and I slide my arms inside it.
The man threatened to feed me to a gator, and I wind up topless and tongue-fucking him? Something is seriously wrong with me.
Needing a distraction, I retrieve Angelo’s phone from his inside jacket pocket and turn on the home screen. “This your daughter?” It’s a picture of a younger Angelo with a girl. They favor each other with their olive skin and matching blue eyes, and the thought of him creating this adorable little girl with another woman has my stomach in knots. Which is fucking cray-cray.
As cray-cray as me nearly fucking the man who politely kidnapped me and threatened to turn me into a gator snack.
He jerks the phone away from me, angling his body so I can’t watch him unlock the screen.
Smart move.
