Touched by a Thief (6 page)

His dark gaze turned lethal, as if he read her thoughts. As if he knew her body tingled with awareness of him. He did know, had always known. And the bastard liked it. Which was her saving grace when he yanked the sheet back, exposing the rest of her nakedness.

He drank her in, a visual touch that skimmed up her legs, caressed her inner thighs, skimmed over her mons.

Anger at his arrogance held her in place, allowed him to look. Despite his nonchalant stance, the pulse at his throat hammered. Ian may have betrayed her, but he still wanted her.

A wicked gleam lit inside her, filling her with sweet vengeance. Her gaze dropped to his straining zipper. “Looks like you’re happy to see me,” she drawled in imitation of his earlier taunt. This time, she’d be the one to use the chemistry between them to her advantage. She’d beat him at his own game.

She leaned forward, not touching but close. So close she imagined she could feel the pounding of his heart. Perhaps it was only the thudding of her own overpowering her senses.

“Monty.” Her name left his lips in a sigh, his breath brushing against her skin.

“What’s wrong, Ian?” she attacked, going on the offense before his nearness put her on the defensive. “Feeling guilty at how you tossed me to the cops?”

His gaze darted to hers. “If you weren’t guilty, they wouldn’t have convicted you.”

“Wouldn’t they? You screwed me, Ian.” She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air, accidentally brushing her nipples against the soft material stretched across his broad chest. Shards of glass pierced every cell in her body, pricking her with pleasure and pain.

“That I did.” His hand lifted and her treacherous body tingled with the knowledge that he was going to touch her.

Horrid female creature that she was, she wanted just that. To have the betraying bastard touch her, kiss her, be inside her, fucking her with that big cock of his, making her cum and cum.

But instead of touching her, he straightened from the bed. “Too bad I don’t like sloppy seconds, eh?”

His words cut to the quick, reminded her that mere hours ago she’d been tangled with Gerard, rutting in pleasure. Fury filled her. Why had she let Ian get to her? Why had she always let him get to her?

She stood, glared at him, standing on tip-toes to reach eye-to-eye. “I hate you.”

He snorted, whether in amusement, disbelief, or I-don’t-give-a-fuck, she wasn’t sure. In that moment she wanted Ian to hurt, wanted him to hurt every bit as much as she did, more. She wanted him to writhe in pain.

“If it’s the last thing I do I’ll make you pay for what you did to me,” she warned.

His gaze still locked with hers, he arched a brow. “Just what did I do, Monty? Is what bothers you the most that I got away and you didn’t? Or is it that you fancied yourself in love with me whilst I only saw our relationship for what it was? Purely physical, pleasant while it lasted, but never anything more.”

She’d gone back for him, gotten caught because he’d been careless and she’d refused to leave him. He’d practically gift-wrapped her for the cops while he high-tailed it to freedom.

Ian hesitated just long enough Monty was positive he wasn’t telling her the whole story and that his hesitation was intentional, that he wanted her to squirm with the truth. “I work for Gerard.”

She let go of his shirt and fell back to the bed, sitting naked on the edge, a sinking feeling low in her gut. “Gerard hired you to set me up, didn’t he?”

That’s how he’d known she was in prison, perhaps even why she’d received such a harsh sentence. Who’d ever heard of a case being tried so rush-rush. After playing it smart for so long, she’d been had. In a big way. By more than one man. Was there even a fucking Degassi Diamond? Just what role, if any, did the government play in all this?

She kicked Ian in the shin. He didn’t flinch, didn’t act as if the blow even fazed him. However, her bare toes contacting with the hard lines of his body in a powerful crunch watered her eyes and she fought grabbing them and dancing around in pain. Damn.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

“I’m leaving.” Lifting her chin high and avoiding looking at the smug bastard in front of her, she stood and sauntered toward where the multitude of clothes Gerard had bought her were stored in a closet bigger than most people’s bedroom. She’d take everything he bought her and pawn it at the first shop she came to, use the money to get her out of the country.

For a moment her heart stalled in anticipation that he wanted her to stay, that he’d keep her with him, but then she remembered he was only working for Gerard and probably had orders to keep her there. She was as imprisoned here as she’d been in the penitentiary.

Fire lit within her. “Oh really? What are you going to do, Ian? Tie me to the bed?”

Perhaps it was the wrong analogy to use, because his gaze dropped to the king-sized bed she’d just left. His hold on her arm loosened ever-so-perceptibly. She jerked free, elbowed him hard in the gut and bee-lined toward the closet. Not even she was going to break free from her new prison naked.

As expected he closed in on her almost immediately but she was ready for him, landing another jab the moment he grabbed her, eliciting a muffled grunt but no loosening of his fingers.

“Feisty as ever,” he mumbled, more amused than anything.

All the fury she’d held in for the past few months culminated in that moment and she punched his face with all her might. She wasn’t sure if the satisfying crunch was her or him. She didn’t care. His grip loosened and she landed another blow, another. Then she flew into him, hitting him, kicking him. Oddly enough, he let her. Not allowing her to make contact with his face again or other vital parts, he accepted her blows to his chest with minimal resistance. Not once did he offer to retaliate, which only served to infuriate her all the more.

“Besides, Kincaid wouldn’t like it if I left his bought and paid for mistress banged up.” He grinned. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“Go to hell.” Surprising both herself and him, her palm made contact with his cheek, the sound echoing around the room.

His eyes glittered. “You’re going to pay for that.”

In that moment, she knew she’d pushed him too far, that he no longer cared if he hurt her or not. She struggled to free herself, but he was too strong and not even years of defensive training could set her free. When his mouth covered hers, she had to ask herself just how whole-heartedly she’d tried. Had she known if she pushed him far enough that he’d kiss her?

Still, she struggled, twisting and turning but he held her to him, imprisoning her in the strength of his arms.

“Keep it up, baby,” he whispered against her lips. “I’m enjoying your efforts.”

Yes, he was. Her squirming naked body had his jeans ready to pop open from the strain of the long, hard cock digging into her belly.

His hands found her breasts, palmed them as if they were the most amazing things he’d ever felt, as if they were made for his hands.

“Yes,” she cried when he bent, took her nipple between his teeth and sucked like a starving babe.

She was starving. Starving for this man, for his touch.

For months she’d been telling herself she’d pushed him from her heart, but with one touch she was under his spell just as much as she’d ever been.

He gave equal attention to her other breast, down her belly, lower, gliding his tongue over her heavy labia, flicking between them and gyrating over the nub of her existence.

“Ian.” Her fingers laced into his hair, gripping the thick strands between her fingers as she bucked against his mouth.

“Tell me,” he encouraged, plunging a finger into her moist folds while his tongue continued its magic. “Tell me what you want, Monty, and I’ll give it to you.”

You, she wanted to cry. She wanted him.

She bit her lower lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing she still needed him. That despite everything he held so much power over her. That she was mere putty in his clever hands.

He slipped a second finger into her, moved his hand in a rhythm meant to steal a woman’s inhibitions and leave her a wanton puppet at her master’s will. “Tell me.”

Could his hoarsely whispered words be more seductive?

Her tongue bore the brunt of her pride, and she tasted the metallic twang of her own blood. Which amazed her as she’d swear every drop pooled between her legs, heating, building in intensity and would boil any second.

Then the heated waves came, in rapid succession, steaming her senses, melting her insides, erupting from her very core and shooting out in pleasurable waves. Her body jerked against his fingers, gyrating in need to extend the moment, but there was no need. Ian never had been a quitter. His fingers moved just right, his tongue lapped just so, and Monty forgot to breathe, forgot to move, forgot to do anything other than feel the magic.

Just as she was ready to collapse against him in a languorous heap, he freed himself, covered himself in a condom and pushed inside her.

“Monty,” he breathed against her hair, bending to kiss a sensitive spot behind her ear, an erogenous zone he’d discovered one lazy afternoon. “You’re mine.”

She didn’t speak. Not to deny his claim, nor to admit to the truth of his words. Instead she wrapped her legs around his waist and cradled him deep inside her.

Then his own waves of pleasure hit and she felt his body tensing, felt him battling his need to drive himself into her. She couldn’t stand his control, wanted him as lost in what they shared as what she was.

She clenched her vaginal muscles, gripping his cock tightly within her, and squeezed in rapid succession, milking his cock as he thrust.

“Monty,” he groaned, pushing her back onto the bed, her legs still around his waist, he pressed her back into the mattress and pummeled her with his need. Again and again until his entire body tensed, his back arched, and he thrust uncontrollably into her over and over.

Sweet Jesus alive. Was that how it had always been between them? No wonder he haunted her every thought. No wonder she dreamed about him, fantasized that it was Ian showering her with attention rather than Gerard.

Gerard.

Oh hell. She’d just made love to Ian in Gerard’s bed. Had sex, not made love. Ian hadn’t even undressed. His pants hung low on his narrow hips, just hastily pushed out of the way enough to free himself.

Embarrassment at just how wanton she was hit her. She’d had sex, good sex with Gerard mere hours ago. And now Ian. Oh Lord what she’d had with Ian was so much more than just good sex.

Yet, truth was, that’s all it was and she’d be wise to remember that. To remember that she needed to steal a diamond, and now had two men who wanted her and thought nothing of using her to assuage that want.

Ultimately, vengeance would be hers.

Pulling her pride around her as a shield to the pain in her heart, Monty met Ian’s dark eyes.

“Guess you go for sloppy seconds after all.” She hardened to the momentary surprise in his eyes, watched the darkness go from soft, warm to cold and empty. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking I feel anything for you, Ian, because second best is all you’ve ever been.”

Chapter Five