The Cunning Thief (Stolen Hearts #6)(35)

But the pull was there. The more time they spent together, the more undeniable it became. From the moment they’d met on the beach to him watching her while she slept, they were connected in some way she didn’t understand.

She didn’t need to understand it to know what her body wanted, though. Tristan lifted her up and tugged her against his body as he turned to walk back to the car with her in his arms.

She’d been so distracted by the feel of his body that she didn’t even know her feet had left the ground until they were moving. She closed her eyes at the dizzying sensation of being carried and leaned her forehead against his. And when she raised her lashes, she was staring deep into his eyes. That crystal blue seemed to be on fire with a heat she’d never seen before. He was just as taken as she was, apparently.

When her back hit the car, she let out a little gasp of shock. Between the cool metal and his hot body, she already felt as if she were on overload, and he’d barely touched her yet.

Her fingers bit into his back. What started as her holding on for dear life turned into her holding him as close as she could against her. Her eyes drifted closed, and his nose just brushed hers before he kissed her again. The kiss was slow, gentle. A direct contrast to how tightly her legs were wrapped around his waist and the frantic movement as she rubbed against him. For a few moments, they stayed like that. He had her pressed against the car as they softly kissed, slowly exploring each other’s mouths. His tongue was gentle and soft against hers. Her hands relaxed at the base of his neck, just playing with the bottom of his hair. But, as she was beginning to learn was usual for them, the heat started to explode.

The kiss grew deeper and harder, and she kept rubbing against him, demanding what her body needed. Tristan let out a groan as he deepened the kiss. But that wasn’t enough for her. She pushed his jacket over his shoulders, not stopping until it had fallen to the ground. He broke away, and her feet inched closer to the ground. She blinked in confusion the second she made contact with the earth, but it started making more sense as he tugged at her clothes. He gave her jacket the same treatment she gave his before he tugged her blouse right over her head. Shae bit her lip but didn’t stop him. “What if someone drives by?”

He hooked his fingers under her chin, as if he wanted her to meet his eyes. “Does it look like I care if someone drives by?”

Nope. It certainly did not. Turnabout was fair play, so she worked at the buttons of his shirt. She was going disgustingly slow, but he saved her by reaching up to undo the rest. And then he was blessedly shirtless in front of her. She looked down over his clean-cut abs and couldn’t help herself from reaching out and touching him. Nothing about this man was normal. Not the way he acted or spoke, or the way he looked. She could hardly believe he existed, let alone that he was here touching her, kissing her, and reaching for her pants.

As he undid the top button, his eyes met hers. She knew what she should do. She should tell him to stop, and get in the car like a good little girl. Who knew if Damask was looking for them right now? Who knew if the cops were looking for the stolen car? But all she did was stand on her tiptoes and kiss him once more. He pressed her back against the car and kept kissing her. He reached up to cup her neck at the base of her head, his thumbs gently pressing against her jawline to hold her in place as he tilted his head and devoured her. She happily let him, running her own hands up and down his stomach, his back, and his arms.

She tried to memorize every section of him. She knew this wasn’t normal. She knew this was like holding smoke. It was only a matter of time before he sifted through her fingers and was gone. So she would enjoy it for now. She would let this play out and accept whatever consequences came with it. Because now, in the real world, Damask wanted her dead more than ever, and her father was officially involved in the whole mess. She’d take any and every distraction, especially one as delicious as this.

As soon as he’d pushed the button free, his hand was sliding down and into her wet heat. He looked at her the entire time, as though studying her every reaction. She had a feeling this was how he lived his life. Studying others. Finding out what made them tick. What made them lose control. She was oddly offended at being one more mark, but then his long, nimble fingers brushed against her clit and she found herself holding onto him as her knees grew weaker.

Her head fell onto his shoulder and he rubbed her again as his hand moved deeper, one finger sliding easily inside. She could only imagine how wet she was already for him. The only thing that made her state less embarrassing was his thick erection pressing against her. “This is a mistake,” she breathed.

“Are you telling me to stop?” he whispered against her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive lobe as he spoke.

She gulped, holding back a laugh at the mere notion of stopping. “No. But it’s a one-time thing.”

“Of course.” Tristan slid another finger inside. “One time only.”

She wasn’t sure whether she was kidding herself or not, but she was pretty much past the point of logical thought. She pulled him back down to her and crushed her mouth against his. She didn’t want any more foreplay, damn it. She wanted him, now. “I want you,” she breathed, her voice barely audible between their mouths pressing against each other.

Tristan pulled away and looked down at her. “All right. Turn around.”

“But—”

“Do it,” he ordered.