Page 133 of Their Reckless Thief
“Stop holding yourself back. You’re not that girl from your past anymore, and this isn’t a game you have to win alone. All three those men want you, not just for the thrill, but for the person you are. Trust me, I’ve seen enough to be sure of that. They’re fighting for you in their own way. Let yourself be part of that.”
Her words settled into me, slowly, as if my soul was finally allowing itself to consider the possibility. Could I really let myself be loved? Be seen in that way? I took another sip of wine and let the thought linger. More importantly, could Luca, Dorian, and Vincenzo truly love me for who I was, not for what they wanted me to be?
Vivian held up her glass again and grinned. “To taking chances?”
I laughed, clinking my glass with hers. “To taking chances.”
The conversation drifted to lighter things after that—old heists, hilarious mishaps from our past missions, even a ridiculous memory from a job where we’d both ended up escaping a security guard who’d taken one too many bribes from our target. For a while, it felt like old times again. Just the two of us, sisters by choice, the world outside our little bubble forgotten.
As the night wore on, a quiet understanding settled between us, as if my confession had unlocked something I hadn’t known was there. A part of me that was ready, despite everything, to risk the fall. To rely on someone besides myself and Vivian.
Vivian finished painting her nails, admiring the emerald green against her skin, and glanced over at me with a satisfied nod. “You know, Celeste, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this life, it’s that we don’t always get to choose who or what changes us. Sometimes, it just happens. And sometimes, it’s the best damn thing that could.”
A quiet smile spread across my face as I looked at her, my spirit feeling a little lighter. “Thank you, Viv. For reminding me. And for teaching me how to love.”
“Anytime.” She winked, her tone playful. She pulled me into a hug, and I breathed her in. “Now, don’t die on me in this next heist.”
I snorted, raising my glass. “Deal.”
My pulse racedas I walked through the mansion’s silent halls, each step taking me closer to something I’d both longed for and feared. This was it. The moment I let myself cross a line I’d drawn so fiercely, a line meant to protect me. Yet here I was, in front of Dorian’s door, knowing that this choice would shift everything between us.
I slipped inside and paused. Moonlight filtered through the window, bathing him in a pale silver glow. In sleep, Dorian looked peaceful. No teasing grin, no easy laugh, just him. It was so achingly intimate, like I was witnessing a side of him meant only for me, a secret I wanted to keep.
I walked over, every nerve humming. Warmth flooded through me as I looked down at him. I didn’t dare break the silence, didn’t dare disturb this fragile, fleeting moment, but I wanted him to know I was there… I needed him to feel it as much as I did.
Without giving myself a moment to second-guess, I slipped under the sheets, the mattress dipping as I settled beside him. His warmth surrounded me, and for a moment, all my fears faded. I scooted closer, unable to keep myself from reaching out to touch his face. My fingers brushed his cheek, his stubble rough against my fingers.
I leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss against his lips—a whisper of contact, but it was enough. Enough to wake him, to make his eyes flutter open, still hazy with sleep. For a breathless second, he looked at me, and a drowsy, slow smile spread across his face.
“Celeste?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. The sound of my name, spoken like that, sent a shiver through me. A feeling I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge rose in my chest, swelling until it was impossible to ignore.
“Hey.” I ran my fingers down his jaw, delighting in the warmth beneath my touch, a sense of rightness settling over me. I leaned in again, capturing his mouth in a kiss, this time letting myself get lost in it.
The moment he realized what I was doing, he pulled me closer until every inch of me was pressed against him. His mouth responded to mine, sleepy at first, hesitant, but quickly deepening as the seconds passed. I tasted his surprise, his quiet joy. His touch was gentle, unhurried, like he was trying to memorize the feel of me.
This kiss was a promise, a silent confession of everything I hadn’t allowed myself to say. I’d held myself back for so long, never allowing such intimacy, and now I was letting him in. The realization jolted me, equal parts thrilling and terrifying.
He drew back just enough to search my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek, his eyes tracing over me with such tenderness I felt a lump rise in my throat. “Not that I’m complaining,” he whispered, a smile tugging at his lips, “but to what do I owe this pleasure?”
I swallowed, my heart racing, barely able to hold his gaze. “I… I wanted to be here with you. No reason.” Even as I said it, I knew it was so much more than that. I needed him to know I was choosing this—choosing him.
The silence between us stretched, full of things we weren’t saying. His eyes stayed on me, reading every ounce of emotion I couldn’t hide. I felt vulnerable, stripped bare in a way that went far beyond the physical. It made my pulse skip, and my breath catch. I tried to push past the compulsion to say nothing—I needed to give voice to this feeling that was both exhilarating and terrifying—but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, I pulled him close again, pressing my lips to his with a need that surprised me. His hand moved to the small of my back, tracing gentle circles as our kiss deepened. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, anchoring me to this moment, to him.
Time gave the impression of slowing, each brush of our lips, each touch stretching endlessly. In that slowness, everything shifted. This wasn’t about desire or proving something. This was a release, a surrender. I was letting myself feel, letting myself be here, really be here, without the usual fears or defenses. I was freeing myself of all the self-imposed restrictions I’d placed on myself. Tearing down the walls around my heart I had spent so many years building.
He pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing as uneven as my own. He didn’t speak, didn’t push for more, didn’t even ask what had changed. He just held me close, stroking my back lazily. I knew he was waiting for me to take the next step, to let him in fully.
As I looked into his eyes, I felt something I hadn’t dared to believe was real—trust. I let my hand drift down to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. This was different, significant. My soul rejoiced at this new sensation. When he smiled at me, I knew he felt it too.
He never asked or pushed for more, and as we lay there, curled up in each other’s arms, I knew he understood.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a beginning.
40
DORIAN
