Page 62 of Nest of Thieves
I swing my gaze to Lark. “You put cameras up?”
“We had cameras up,” he corrects, but a small flash of guilt flashes across his face.
“In my room?”
He presses his lips together.
These motherfuckers.
“That’s so fucking creepy. Do you watch me in the bathroom?” I hiss the question.
“Of course not.” Lark almost sounds offended.
“Right, because assuming you’d put cameras there is so far-fetched.” I scoff. “Unbelievable.”
“Don’t be mad, Kitten. It’s a safety precaution. You should be flattered.”
“Flattered?”
Mac climbs off the table and walks toward me, the twist of his lips making my heart leap inside my chest. “Mm-hmm. We’re worried about what you’ll do when we’re not watching. One might say some of us are scared.” He cuts a look at Vette.
“I’m not scared, cabrón.”
“Sure thing, cupcake.” Mac glances at me again. “Will you tuck me in?” He pouts and rounds his eyes, attempting to be cute.
It’s working.
“Put yourself to bed. I’m going to sleep.”
And to find the cameras Lark planted in my bedroom.
* * *
Three tiny cameras. I set them on the comforter, scanning the ceiling and corners one more time. They’re tiny enough to blend in, but they’re about to get flushed. When I’m satisfied there are no more, I scoop them up and march to the bathroom.
My door bursts open with a thud, and I whirl around, heart lurching.
“Please,” Lark says, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture. “Those are expensive.”
I squint at him. “And I care because why?” Turning, I continue toward the toilet.
“Jo,” he pleads, but I ignore him.
I lift the lid, and his fingers wrap around my wrist, tugging me away from the commode and into his muscled chest. His jasmine and lavender scent wraps around me, coaxing me into a false sense of security.
I’m not falling for that.
“Let go.” I slam my other arm into his wrist, forcing him to release my hand. I spin and make a run for it.
Lark is faster.
He grabs my waist and drags me out of the bathroom. I screech and drop my weight to the side, twisting so my foot lands behind his. He trips and we both go down. His arms band around me even tighter, and he barrel-rolls us as soon as we crash to the floor.
I’ve barely recovered my breath when he wrenches my arms over my head and pins them there, using his hips to keep me from bucking and fighting against him. I suck in a sharp breath, inhaling more of his scent and catching traces of desire filling the space between us.
I growl and buck my hips, inadvertently grinding against a very hard and very thick cock. Lark’s dick.
“You’re an asshole,” I say between clenched teeth.
