Page 47 of Savage Beauty

The clacking of keys slows. “Let me check some sources. If he did the right people favors, they’d make a home for him there for sure.”

“I’m not sure if this possibility helps us or hurts us.”

“Me neither,” Erik says under his breath. “I’m running all known aliases through for any connections. In the meantime, stay in the villa.”

He’s not wrong to be annoyed. We got lucky as fuck. He could’ve seen her. We could’ve run into him earlier today. The dial tone sounds, letting me know Erik ended the call.

Upstairs, I set out my guns and ammo, taking stock. Two SIGs, two Glocks, three rifles, two scopes, ammo, a NOD in case I need night vision, vests. I’ve got more than I need.

Across the hall, her bedroom door is cracked open. I push it wide.

She’s leaning back on a stack of pillows, one leg straight, one bent, one palm flat on the mattress, the other hand holding something pink. Her cheeks are flushed, but the color is as likely from the sun as fear.

“You doing okay?”

“I don’t know yoga. The best way I know to calm down is to have an orgasm, but I’m not sure I can get myself to do that right now.”

“Did I just walk in on you—is that lube?”

“The vagina is not a rainforest.”

I swear I never know what is going to come out of her mouth. She’s not playing me. There’s not an ounce of embarrassment. No attempt at seduction. Clearly. The description “straight shooter” comes to mind.

“What’re we supposed to do now?” Her question holds a hint of a whine. She’s still worked up.

“Hang tight. Rest. We’ve got big plans for tonight.”

She nods and sets what I suspect is a small pink vibrator on the bedside table. Her shorts are on, so whatever she was doing to herself she was doing above her clothes. I like that she’s not embarrassed at all. After my ex, I freaking love that she’s a straight shooter. And I have to admit, I agree with her. Orgasms are a great way to relax, but right now doesn’t feel like the time.

The mattress sinks under my weight as I join her, pressing my back to the headboard since she’s using all the pillows, and stretch an arm around her shoulders to pull her into my side. She’s so thin. Too thin.

“Why don’t I go downstairs and slice those papayas and some cheese? Eating can also calm you down.”

She nestles into me. The top of her head rubs my neck, and the side of her face grazes my collarbone. Her silky strands are smooth, and the tension that’s been as tight as a rappel line ever since she yelled from her bike, maybe since the moment she left the villa, eases. Her slender form fits snugly against me, and I close my eyes, giving myself a moment to relax into this, to enjoy having someone close to me. I’m a snuggler by nature, and it’s been a long time since I gave in to this desire.

“Why are you being so good to me?”

Her question rouses me from the temporary reprieve. “Believe it or not, I like you.” Hell, she’s right. She’s all kinds of different. But it’s refreshing. I mean, sure, I’m also attracted to her. Any guy would be. But I like her too.

“No. You like Sage. You’re doing this as a favor to her.”

I take a minute to think that one through. I mean, I volunteered to be here as a favor to Knox, but that has nothing to do with why I’m here now. Yes, I’m here because that’s my job. But I wouldn’t have climbed onto a bed to hold any other client. And until this moment, I’ve never thought of her as a client. Maybe because I’m well aware Arrow took this case on with no payment.

“It’s okay. Many people are nice to me as a favor to Sage. Or Sam. Back when he was alive. Mainly in high school.”

I nudge her chin up so she’s forced to really look at me when I correct her. “Sloane, I’m here for you. You got that?”

She’s not looking at me. My view is of her eyelids and long black lashes, her nose and a dusting of too much pink from the sun earlier today, and freshly licked pink lips.

The damnedest things come out of those lips. Lips I really want to taste. And so I do.

Once. Twice. So fast, so soft.

What I want to do is push her back onto the bed. I want to give her that orgasm to both calm her and to rock her world. I want to lose myself in her. Forget about our fuckups earlier today by immersing ourselves in the physical. Sink into her over and over again.

The tips of her fingers brush over my ear and along my neck. I’m so fucking hard. So ready to pound into her. Make her see the real thing is far better than any little plastic gadget. Better than her fingers.

That’s what I want to do. But that wouldn’t be smart. Not just because we’re out of here tomorrow, but because this woman needs more than that. She may not realize it, but she needs someone to show her that sex can be more than just the physical act. And yeah, she may respond to the world a little differently, but she deserves to be treated like a queen.

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