Page 37 of Corrupted Pleasure
And she was out like a light, hugging my special edition cognac.
Taking the bottle out of her hands, I put it on the floor and lifted her up into my arms and headed for the bedroom. She felt small in my arms. Fragile even. Her body leaned into me, as if she sought out comfort or heat, even in her slumbering state.
“You’re dangerous for my self-control,” I murmured against her hair, laying her down onto the big bed of the master bedroom.
A soft sigh slipped through her lips.
“Same,” she murmured, rolling over and taking my arm with her, as if it was her own cuddle toy. “Lay with me. You never collected the debt.”
Has she been waiting for me all this time to come and collect?
Fuck, I wanted to. But not like this. She’d have to be sober before I slid into bed with her and definitely when I fuck her. Because I knew once I had her pressed against me, there’d be no stopping until I was buried deep inside her.
So I tucked her into the comforter and left for my penthouse. There was no sense in waking those four up to reprimand them.
They were too drunk, and I had a plan to put in motion for Davina Hayes.
CHAPTER13
Davina
The trip to the beach house was fruitless. Though we came up with the plan. Whether it was good or not, it remained to be seen. We cleaned up the living room this morning. The girls crashed in the living room. Lots of bottles of alcohol would do that to you. I thought I fell asleep on the floor of the living room, but this morning I woke up in a warm and comfortable bed.
I must have been drunker than I thought to make it into the bedroom without remembering it. Though I remembered plenty of my dreams from last night - Mr. Brennan carrying me into the bedroom, sliding into the covers with me, his big hands roaming my body. I knew,just knew, he’d be an amazing lover.
Unfortunately, it was just a dream. I woke up soaking wet, unsated, and hungover. Horrible combination.
“Okay, we stick to the plan,” Wynter muttered under her breath, striding confidently like she owned this city. “Draw all the eyes away from Davina so she can rob Uncle while we shake our booties.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” Juliette voiced. “I wish my head didn’t hurt so fucking bad.”
“Your head?” Ivy whined. “Everything hurts. My neck, my head, my stomach.” She has spent her morning puking her guts up. “I can taste the puke. Do I smell like puke?” she asked, throwing us a side glance.
I shook my head. My stomach didn’t feel so great either, but it was more the nerves for what I was about to do. Stealing from a fucking hot mobster was a stupid idea, but I didn’t have a better one.
“Stop complaining,” Wynter hissed. “We’ll be in and out. Let’s just get this done and we’ll be on our way. And no more drinking.”
“At least for a month or two,” Juliette agreed, but then thought better of it. “Actually, we need to order at least one round of drinks here. Otherwise, it’ll be suspicious.”
Wynter and I gave her an exasperated look. “That reason makes no goddamn sense,” I mumbled.
“We drink every time we come,” Ivy grumbled, looking slightly greenish at the thought of drinking alcohol. “If we change our behavior, it will be obvious.”
“We’re going to be dancing on the bar,” Wynter choked out. “That’s changed behavior.”
“Whatever,” Juliette grumbled. “Just stick to the plan. We order drinks and toast. Davina disappears, and Wynter climbs on the bar as Ivy’s Bluetooth connects her iPhone music to the stereo. Then, Ivy and I follow.”
Wynter sighed heavily. “Fine. Whatever.”
The four of us entered The Eastside Club without any hiccups though Wynter wasn’t officially twenty-one. Not for another few weeks.
Juliette wore an orange sparkly mini dress, Ivy wore an identical green mini-dress, while Wynter wore a white one. They looked like a walking Irish flag together. I wore a black mini dress that hugged my curves. The four of us decided it was best if I wore black, so I could blend in with the shadows while I sneak into the back office.
Did it make sense? Fuck if I knew. None of us knew, but in every movie we watched with thieves, they wore black leggings and shirts. I mean, we watchedEntrapmentwith Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones this morning. It only confirmed the need to wear black. Except, this club wouldn’t allow me to enter in a bodysuit like Catherine Zeta-Jones wore.
We strode to the bar like we belonged here.
“A round of fireballs for us,” Juliette ordered. The bartender glanced at us all, one by one and ended up on Wynter.
