Page 66 of The Love Bandits

“Are we going to disturb your friend?” I ask, nodding to the house next door. They said her friend’s boyfriend is a big guy, and I’d rather not piss him off.

She shakes her head slightly. “They just had their windows replaced. The ones in this house are still old.”

Then she hefts her bat again, her expression fierce, and says, “Ready?”

And the only possible answer is to smile at her and nod, because I can see all the way down to her steel backbone, and in this moment, I’m a little bit in love with her. This near-stranger. This fellow thief. This woman who’s so much stronger than most people would give her credit for.

But she still needs this. So I raise that stupid umbrella, and I hit the hatchback, hurting my fingers and loving it. Loving the strength Elaine is putting into each of her blows, the wood splintering, the metal groaning. Both the bat and the car giving in to the sheer force of her will.

Finally, she drops the broken bat, and I follow suit, letting the shitty umbrella, now a twisted, broken mess, fall to the pavement.

“I think the car actually looks better now,” I say, but I barely get the words out before she grabs me roughly by the front of my shirt, pulling me to her. Her bare lips lifted to me.

Maybe this is another part of her revenge. To destroy her parents’ car with her ex’s precious bat and then give herself to a thief on top of the ruin. Maybe I should have a problem with that, a feeling of being used, but I don’t. All I care about is that she’s mine tonight.

My hands are raw, but I wrap them into her hair, tugging her even closer as her hot mouth presses into me, her tongue finding mine while her hand slides under my shirt. It must be sweaty, but the hand continues gliding up, undaunted. Her touch is as demanding as her mouth. I sigh into her, feeling a moment of pure contentment with the broken things around me, so much better than the ones inside of me.

My mouth still on hers, I lift her by the hips and whirl her around, her bare feet flying in a circle, and she laughs into my mouth before stopping the twirl by cinching her legs around my waist and nipping my bottom lip. My arms circle around to hold her in place, cupping the curves of her butt as she tips her head to try my lips from a new angle.

When she feels my hardness, she lets out a gusty sound and pushes herself into it, immediately making my problem more pressing. And then she reaches down to caress me through the pants, her hand cupping me, rubbing. Raw, uncontrolled need floods me. I want to take her out here, against this ruined car, the destroyed bat under our feet. I want to slide into her—to feel her clench around me and beneath me, her body working with mine to bring her what she needs. But I remember what she confirmed for me. That asshole never made her come.

I don’t have much to offer her, but I can right that wrong. I can do that for her. Iwill.

I can give this beautiful, smart, funny-as-hell woman something to remember.

Pulling my mouth back from her, I say, “You got the key to this thing?”

“You want to bring it for a test drive rightnow?” she asks, her tone disbelieving. “I honestly don’t care if it works. I’d much rather continue what we’re doing.”

“I had something else in mind,” I say, setting her down on her feet. Relief filters through me when she pulls the key out of her pocket. The back is dented to hell, like a high school kid in a minivan backed into her ten times before managing to turn, but it opens. And I back her into it until she’s sitting.

“What happens next?” she asks, smiling up at me, and I can see the adrenaline rush in her eyes as she parts her legs.

Oh, hell yes. She’s wearing a dress—grey, like she couldn’t find it in her to wear red today—so I have the access I need.

I get onto my knees, splinters on the pavement digging into them, and spread her legs wider, running my fingers over her panties. Even through the fabric I can feel that she’s wet.

“I’m greedy,” I say, leaning down to kiss her thigh, then run my tongue over the territory my fingers just traced. She digs a hand into my hair, pulling. “I love your taste,” I say, “and what I got yesterday wasn’t nearly enough.”

Her eyes are dark in the night. “They could look out of the window and see us. From either house.”

“You said the windows were soundproofed next door, and I have a feeling Nicole and Damien are actually giving us some privacy. Besides…” I grin up at her. “Isn’t the danger part of the fun?”

My answer is for her to close her legs…and then lift up and pull her panties off before opening to me again, offering herself to me in a way that makes me harder and also unleashes something intoxicating in my chest. Like I just took a bottle of honey bourbon and swigged down the whole damn thing.

I push them open wider, getting a gusty sigh from her, and I meet her gaze again. “Don’t pretend, Elaine. I don’t need a participation award for eating pussy. I want to earn it. I want to hear you scream my name and know it’s because you can’t help yourself. I want to know I drive you as crazy as you make me.”

She nods, and I touch her first, needing to feel how wet she is for me. A hum of appreciation escapes me as I curl my finger up and in, the sweet slide of it confirming she’s as turned on as I am. “You like being bad, don’t you? I can feel it.”

She lifts her hips toward me. “You can put your lips to better use than taunting me.”

I’m not taunting her. I appreciate the wild spark in her that I noticed the first night I met her, when she was spreading chaos in Jake Jeffries’s apartment, but I’m not going to waste this opportunity I’ve been given by being contrary, so I lean in andkiss up her thighs, the skin soft and hot, fragrant with her scent. And then, when I can’t take it anymore, I hike her thighs over my shoulders, burying my face in her slick, sweet heat.

“Oh shit,” she murmurs as she pushes into me, her hips bucking as I lick and suck like the desperate man I am. I need to give her what he didn’t—Ineedit. Those breathy cries, those desperate movements of her body. I crave them.

I’m barely aware of anything but her taste, her thighs flexing around my neck, and the feeling of her against my mouth and tongue. She spears a hand into my hair again and tugs, holding onto me as if I’m the only thing keeping her anchored to the earth—and also the reason she’s floating. And it hits me that the only times I’ve felt anything approaching good in the last few months have been here in this house, where I’m a semi-prisoner. With this woman who sees right through me like I’m made of glass.

I feel her tightening, her body shaking slightly, and I look up at her, needing to see her lose herself to it. Tome. But when I meet her gaze, something like fright passes through her eyes, and she starts to pull back.

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