Page 57 of The Diamond Thief
I slam down on him one more time, and the collision causes everything to break free. I cry out, a high sound next to his low, heavy growl. As the orgasm radiates through my body, he releases into me. It’s explosive and warm. I hang onto his body fiercely, feeling lightheaded, as if all the oxygen in the room is taken up by the fire where we connect.
His breathing is heavy and ragged. We stay there a moment, on the brink of falling off the edge of the world. The tightness in my chest loosens just enough for me to take a deep breath. I slide off him and collapse on the bed.
What have I done? What will I do with him? How will I let him go?
I want to escape, to run, to hide, just to get away. But the feelings are inside me. They’re not him. I can’t run away from what’s inside my head.
I roll onto my belly and bury my face in a pillow. I have to get back on track. So many people are counting on me.
“Jade? Are you okay?” Jacob’s voice is low and easy, and I can tell he’s gathered his breath back as well.
I gather all my reserves and put them in my voice, so that I can sound as put together as him.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just tired. It’s probably late, right?”
“Probably. Unless I made you dinner for breakfast.”
I smile into the pillow. I can’t let him see that.
I venture a peek at him. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hands still behind his back. “I assume you know how to get me out of these,” he says.
“They’re permanent.” Then I chide myself. Why am I joking with this man?
“Figures,” he says. “I’ve probably earned it.”
I force myself to stand up and go for my bra. I put it on. “I’ll get you out of them when I’m ready,” I say.
I glance around for my panties, then I remember where they are.
He notices and laughs. “I take it you don’t use these often.”
“First time.”
He stands up, and I watch him suspiciously. His pants fall down to his ankles, and I have to laugh.
“Can a guy get a little help?”
I kneel down and pick up his pant legs. I fit them around his waist, arranging his boxers as well. When he is zipped and fastened, he says quietly, “Thank you. That would’ve been hard to explain to my butler.”
He sits down on the bed. “Now what? I assume you’ve figured your way out of here?”
The thing is, I don’t have a clue. And Jacob can walk around. Which means he could probably press buttons and cause all sorts of mayhem. Call for backup. Gas me again.
I sit down next to him. “I think we may be at a stalemate,” I say.
“How so?” he asks. “You’ve got me bound in a way I can’t seem to escape from. You’ve successfully broken into one of my bunkers. I’m sure you can get out.”
“I feel like I need to knock you out or something,” I say. “This place is booby-trapped all to hell.”
“It is. I’m sure someone as skilled as yourself will find your way through.” He lies back on the bed. “You’re right. It’s late. I think I’ll take a nap while you find your way out.”
I stare at him. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
I walk away, back into the living room to fetch my clothes. I slide on the leggings and pull on the turtleneck. I gather my sweater around me. I could drug him, but if I get seriously sidetracked by traps, it might be best to keep him awake.
Crap. I have to think. But my mind feels so cluttered by his nearness and my tangled thoughts about him. I head back to the bedroom. He still lies on the bed.
“All right, Jacob. Let’s make a deal.”
