Page 56 of Steal Me (Rebel Hearts Heists 1)
“That’s fucking raw!”
The very famous British chef on TV grabs a scallop and throws it against the kitchen wall, narrowly missing the head of the contestant in the reality cooking show we’ve settled on watching later that evening.
River chuckles. “He said ‘fucking’ drink up, everyone!”
We all lift our shot glasses and down the shots of tequila: this isn’t actually the cheap stuff you need salt and lemon to tolerate, it’s some top-shelf bottle and it doesn’t even burn when it goes down.
River found it in the liquor cabinet and had the idea to turn watching this TV show into a drinking game. Every time the blond British chef says the F-word, we need to drink a shot, this is the third one in rapid succession and I thank all the gods that I’m almost done painting my toenails because my hand is starting to feel unsteady.
“That’s a real pretty color.”
River comments pulling my feet on his lap and tickling the bottom of my sole, making me squirm and almost kick him in the face. What can I say? I’m very, very ticklish. Especially on my feet.
“Yeah, I love this shade of pink. I bet it would look great on you too.” To my surprise, he chuckles and puts his foot on my lap.
“Let’s find out, kitten. But you better have a steady hand, because I’m pretty ticklish too.”
“Fair warning.” I giggle as I dip the paintbrush into the nail polish pot and begin painting his big toe. The others look at us with bewildered expressions and Kaden shakes his head and mutters that River is fucking crazy.
“The color does look good on him though.” Royce teases with a smirk of his own and River’s smile widens.
“Look kitten, they’re all jelly. They want pink toenails too. Anything to get you to touch them, I swear.” And so the most surreal night of my life begins: we keep drinking a shot of tequila every time the chef on TV says ‘Fuck’ and I move from guy to guy, painting their toenails after I’m done with River. Kaden is the last one.
I admit that poor Kaden got the worst of the deal, because by the time I finish painting his toes, I’m several tequila shots down the rabbit hole and my hand is super unsteady, so there’s smudges of pink nail polish all over his feet.
This is why, when the guys start calling dibs on whose bed I should sleep in tonight, I grab Kaden’s hand and follow him into his first floor bedroom. I’m still wearing his t-shirts to sleep in most nights, after that very first night in the penthouse suite in Beverly Hills, I love his clean scent of soap and sunscreen, it makes me feel safe and excited at the same time.
Before turning the light off, I swallow one of the birth control pills River somehow managed to purchase for me and I notice Kaden’s blue eyes follow my every movement.
“My period is almost over, Kades.” I inform him, nestling against him and resting my head on his chest. I feel his lips against my forehead when he says that to him it doesn’t matter but that he understands if doing anything while I’m on my period makes me feel uncomfortable.
“By the way, the reason why I’m not trying anything with you right now, baby, is that we’ve both had a lot to drink. I don’t want you to think that I’d ever try to take advantage of you while you’re tipsy.” I appreciate his concern but he’s right that I’m really tipsy because I giggle and nip at his bottom lip.
“Thank you. Even though after the lake and the shower the other day, I’m pretty sure that you know that I want you, right?” He tightens his arms around me and his nose touches mine when he tells me that he knows. “And Kaden, I love the way you protect me and watch out for me all the time.” I don’t tell him that I plan for him to be the first to have sex with now that I don’t have to worry about condoms anymore.
???
A thunderclap wakes me up but I’m not frightened because I’m still in Kaden’s arms. I sneak out of his hold, careful not to wake him and stretch toward my nightstand to get a drink of water but I find that the bottle I brought with me last night is empty. I curse softly under my breath: I feel too lazy and reluctant to leave the warm coziness of the bed but I’m really parched and all that tequila last night was the worst idea of the decade, because I can feel a hangover coming on.
So I have no choice but to go and get myself some more water and maybe some Tylenol to try and prevent the consequences of last night’s excessive drinking. I pad out of the room barefooted and I shiver when my feet come off the carpeted stairs and come into contact with the much colder tile of the foyer. My eyes have gotten used to the darkness, so I can see the outline of furniture in the dark and get to the kitchen without stumbling into anything.
I take a bottle of water from the fridge and down it all in one go, feeling immediate relief to my cotton mouth and then get a second bottle to take back upstairs after I find some painkillers. A storm is raging outside, torrential rain battering the full length patio doors that from the kitchen lead onto the deck, a howling wind is transporting the rain in every direction and the sea is clamoring just a few feet away, crashing big waves on the sandy beach.
I feel a sudden gust of wind caressing my skin with its icy tendrils and when lightning strikes illuminating the whole kitchen, I notice that the patio door is slightly ajar, letting the rain in.
I walk closer to slide the door closed, careful to avoid stepping into a puddle of water that has collected near the glass door. As I grab the handle more lightning falls on the beach, casting white light everywhere and that’s when I see him.
Fuck.
It’s just a split second because the light disappears as quickly as it came: Pierce is standing on the other side of the glass door and he’s smiling at me. I shudder and slide the door shut, locking its mechanism and taking an instinctive step back, trying to slow down my breathing when I realize that I’m hyperventilating and my heart is beating loud in my ears, louder than the thunder outside.
When lightning strikes again, I look outside and I’m relieved that all I can see is the empty deck and the rain hitting the thick glass door. It can’t be him, right? River destroyed that tracker Pierce put on me and since then, Pierce hasn’t shown up, so I’m safe. There’s no way that Pierce could know where I am, there’s no way that he’d be standing outside.
Get a grip, Sloane. Get a fucking grip and snap out of it.
It’s one thing to have the occasional nightmare or flashback, but seeing Pierce when I’m awake? That’s crazy and if I’m not careful, I’ll have another panic attack. So I shake the patio door handle to make sure that it’s closed and I rush back upstairs into the bedroom and into the warm safety of Kaden’s arms.
