Page 52 of Stolen Goods
“Oh, Thad,” Addison murmured and turned in his arms. “It’s—”
As soon as her gaze landed on his face, a smile widened her lips and she clamped down to keep from bursting with laughter. Her eyes twinkled with mirth as she reached up, tugged the wig from his head, and tossed it over the edge. They both watched it flutter in the wind as it dropped all the way down, then landed in the dirt with a little explosion of dust.
“I can’t take you seriously with that thing on. Or, well, this,” she muttered, tugging on the collar he’d forgotten was still popped. “Or these.” Addison pulled the glasses from his eyes, easing them slowly over the ridge of his nose, until they were staring at each other, nowhere to hide, no material in between. She lifted her palm to his face and brushed her thumb over the stubble covering his jaw. The tips of her fingers teased, barely grazing the back of his neck. “I just want to be here with you.”
Why?he wanted to ask, but the word wouldn’t come. It sat in his throat, heavy and thick, stuck through with doubt and fear and all the other things he kept buried inside.
Instead, he looked away, looked back to the sky. “Let’s sit.”
Thad stepped back, bringing much-needed distance between them, as he sank to the metal grate beneath their feet. The platform was small, so he scooted all the way back and leaned against the ladder to the top, stretching his legs out before him. His feet poked a little past the edge. Addison took the open spot beside him, curling her knees into her chest as she leaned into his side and placed her head on his shoulder. Together, they watched the sun lower. Indigo shadows curled up from the depths of the canyons while the top layers burned a fiery orange, brighter and brighter as the world gradually darkened. The trees swayed gently, creating a soothing hum of rustling pines, broken by the occasional bird call or gentle whistle of the wind. The ground may as well have been miles away. Reality too. All Thad felt was the warm head on his shoulder and the steady beat of the pulse beneath his skin, a more soothing, peaceful feeling than any he could remember.
“How would you paint this?” Addison asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He’d been wondering the same thing—studying the bends in the lights and the gradations of color, trying to discern how best to capture this moment in a way that would transfer. “I could paint it like a Monet,” he thought aloud. “Small dappled strokes of contrasting paint colors, to show the depths of the shadows, the vibrancy of the light. It would capture the serenity and the calm, the easing of the day into something a little more magical.”
He tilted his head to the side, shifting his view. “Or I could paint it like a Van Gogh, stark swirls of color, fusing the landscape with a vivid sense of life, of energy, of emotion. The sway of the trees, the gusts of wind swooping through the canyon, the shimmer of the rocks—each part would have a life of its own, vibrant and complex, but it would lack the serenity.”
He narrowed his eyes, searching for the elusive answer once more. “Maybe I’d paint it like Thomas Cole, a sweeping landscape, full of intricate detail, pairing the incredible scale with a sort of romanticism only found in nature.”
Her head shifted on his shoulder.
Thad felt the burn of her eyes along the edge of his jaw, the corner of his lips, a physical caress as she studied the lines of his face. “And what if it was something original?”
“Huh?”
He’d said he wasn’t going to look down, but he couldn’t stop himself, as though a magnetic pull had tugged on his ear, shifting his face toward hers. Addison stared up at him, those big eyes even bluer than usual, reflecting the sky that surrounded them.
“What if you didn’t paint it like a Monet, or a Thomas Cole, or an anyone else? What if you painted it like a you?”
The question was so seemingly simple, but it hit him like an arrow straight to the heart, cutting deep, slicing an open path to a place he’d never been before. Her gaze was so crisp, so clear, he could see his own face bright in the centers of her pupils, not dark and full of shadows, the way he expected, but a face like any other. Because she saw him. Not the criminal. Not the con. Not the person he pretended to be. But Thad. Just Thad.
Addison had brought him here to be with him, without the crowds, without the disguises, without the lies. So they could be together, just two people on top of the world. Sitting there with her head resting on his shoulder, she wasn’t waiting for Thad to be a better man, or wishing he were a different man, or working to fix a broken man. She wanted him to be exactly who he was. And for the first time in his life, for a split second, he felt as if maybe he was enough.
Thad moved.
The connection between his body and his mind came undone. As his thoughts whispered,Stop, this isn’t a good idea, she’s Jo’s best friend, you’re leaving tomorrow, his hand rose and his torso shifted. His palm brushed the soft skin of her cheek as his fingers found her hair and gripped the back of her head, arching it up. Addison’s lips parted. She sank into his touch as her gaze danced, darting side to side, watching him. He leaned down, sinking closer and closer, not breaking eye contact. Like a slow-motion crash, they both waited for the other to be smart, to stop, to turn away. Then their mouths touched, the barest graze, andboom!The world exploded. Time rushed forward. Addison threw her arms around his shoulders. He pulled her against his chest. They were too lost in each other to notice the debris cascading around them—broken pieces whispering of ramifications and risks and realities that had no place in this dream they’d been catapulted into.
“Thad.” The word came out like a joyous sigh against his lips. He wanted to memorize that sound, to bottle it up to save for later, for after, and he wanted to swallow it, to let that warm tingle linger across his lips and sink into his chest, and stay.
He chose the latter.
With a groan, he reached his other arm around Addison’s waist and dug his fingers into her hip, lifting and spinning her body so she straddled his thighs. Addison laced her fingers through his hair, tilting his face up to meet her new height, pressing her breasts flush against his chest, erasing the space between them. Thad’s muscles tightened, pulling her closer. She squeezed her legs and searched for the hem of his shirt, rocking against his hips as her nails raked down his back. Before he realized what was happening, she pulled the fabric over his head and found his mouth again, hungry and demanding. Thad had no idea how he’d awoken this she-wolf inside of his Southern belle, but he didn’t pause to think. The wildness stoked the beast inside of him, building a fire beneath his skin, an inferno he didn’t want to stop.
He peppered kisses across her cheek, down the edge of her jaw, to the soft spot of her neck, smiling a rakish grin against her skin as her sighs filled the air around them, soft, simpering sounds getting swallowed by the breeze. She gasped as he flicked his tongue over her goose bumps, and dropped her head. Her short curls cascaded down her back, a path for his hands to follow. He gently eased the straps of her dress over her shoulders, until the fabric came loose and slipped away. His lips followed, finding the thin lace material of her bra and biting down, nudging it to the side. Her fingers sank deep into his shoulders, her muscles tightening and coming undone at the same time.
Addison pushed with both palms against his chest, and Thad fell back. For a moment, he thought she wanted to stop, but then she looked at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes that made his pulse spike, and closed the distance. Stealing his lips with hers, she took her turn exploring the contours of his body, sliding her hands down the ridges of his abdomen, making him burn with each inch. The metal steps grated his skin, but the pain accentuated the pleasure, a silent promise that this was all real. The scratch brought him back to earth just as her touch sent him higher into the heavens. They hovered in the in-between, surrounded by a sunset sky awash with colors more vibrant than he could’ve imagined, a scene more brilliant than the masters could’ve painted, yet overshadowed by the beauty residing in her eyes, in her touch, in her sigh.
He knew that tomorrow he’d be leaving. He knew they would never see each other again. He knew they came from different worlds. He knew all the impossibilities—and yet, he felt hope. She’d lit a match in a heart that had been dark and hollow, a place he didn’t think would see the light again, yet there it was. First an ember, then a spark, now a flame. He didn’t want the fire to go out, not now. Not yet.
He didn’t want to let go.
He couldn’t.
Thad slid his palms down her sides, over the curve of her hips, down, down, down, until he reached the hem of her dress and dipped his fingers underneath. Then it was up, up, up, as he followed the silken skin of her thighs, skimming the edge of her panties as he moved his hands to the curves he’d been dreaming of since the moment he saw her. He gripped tight and caught her gasp with his lips. Then he guided her down a road they both knew they shouldn’t travel, to a place where they’d both come undone, all so that in the days and weeks and months to come, when he was alone and she was gone, the two of them would always have this.
One perfect moment to remember.
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