Page 55 of Beauty and the Thief

“Black. And you?”

“Black?” He was horrified. “No milk? No sugar?”

“Not even lemon. How do you take yours?”

“With all the sugar you don’t want.” He proceeded to drop the entire bowl in his cup.

“And do you add tea or just the sugar?”

“Depends on me mood, lass.” He handed her a cup of black tea and a biscuit. “Now tell me what else you like and what you don’t. Favorite food, favorite colors, and all the rest.”

He listened to her, keeping his mind on the mission—and the blunt he’d receive when it was finished—and that made it easier not to imagine sliding his hand up her bare leg, dipping his tongue in the cleft between her breasts, and wrapping that loose strand of hair about his finger until her mouth was flush with his. Cal told himself once they reached Dublin, he’d have some space and no time to think about what he’d like to do to her.

Thoughts of relief in Dublin saw him through the rest of the voyage, the meeting with the contact, and the long walk to their lodgings.

And it was then he realized he was doomed.

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