Page 40 of Thief

“Do you want me to chop the onion?” he asked eventually.

Kat looked up at him. “Bloody onions,” she said with a final sniff and a weak smile. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t cook!” She was mortified by her outburst, but it was too late to do anything about it now. But he hadn’t seemed to mind too much. After all, he was still holding her, and it felt like he had no intention of letting go any time soon.

She stared steadily up into John’s heavy lidded gaze. As she stayed trapped, looking deeper and deeper into his penetrating eyes, she felt herself falling. Falling into the strong, male darkness that had somehow managed to unlock a place inside her, release the protective bolts she’d kept around her heart and soul for so long. A pent up sorrow had been brought to the surface and soothed back down, reconfigured into a more bearable, less painful form…by him.

It was a warm, comforting, new sensation to have shared her emotions so openly, and she was sure he understood the magnitude of what had happened. She’d been weak and vulnerable in his arms, an absolute first. Something she’d never needed to do or allowed herself to be…until now.

Suddenly, he reached behind her and swept the chopping board and the offending onion to one side. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the work surface then stepped between her legs. His thumb and index finger hooked under her chin. She was aware of her face being tipped and softly, so softly as if afraid of breaking her, his warm, barely parted lips pressed down on hers.

She accepted his tender kiss, absorbed the warmth and texture of his gently probing tongue and the delicacy of his pliant lips on hers. There was passion there; a restrained masculine desire. She sensed it mixed in with sweet consideration, but it was restrained, harnessed. Somehow that made the kiss all the more intimate and hot—so damn hot she was in danger of melting into another puddle of emotion.

“John,” she said, smoothing his tear damp T-shirt.

“Mmmm…” He ducked in for another soft kiss.

“John,” she murmured just before his lips found hers again. “Take me to bed.”

He pulled back to study her face.

She gave a hint of a smile, wanting to keep their connection going. She wanted more of him, needed more of the gentle, mushy feeling he’d produced inside her hard, brittle interior. It felt good, like a spring thaw after a long brutal winter.

“I’m not going to say no, what guy would, but can I ask you something first?”

“Sure.”

“Did you…” He tugged at his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes. “Did you lose your virginity to Carlos?”

“God, no.” Kat screwed up her face in confusion. “Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know. Just curious, I guess.”

“No, I wouldn’t sleep with Carlos if you paid me.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess that’s not really a claim I can make, eh?” She tried a tiny smile.

He didn’t match her smile. “So who was your first time if you’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“You don’t have to.” He shrugged. “I just thought we were sharing stuff.”

Kat sighed and slid her hands over his shoulders, down his biceps and brought them to rest on his elbows. Her index finger traced the tongue of the cobra. “His name was Phil.” She studied the snake more intently. Its scales were tiny and intricate and seemed to shimmer on his skin. “Phil was fifty-three and owned a successful construction company. His wife had just left him, and Carlos wanted his Bentley.”

“Jeez, you gave your first time to a hit?”

“Yes, who else would I have given it to?”

John rubbed his hand over his lips as though stopping a ton of words tumbling from his mouth.

“It was awful.” Kat studied his expression. “It was my second hit. He was drunk enough to be rough, but not drunk enough to be comatose.”

John’s eyes darkened to a dangerous midnight black, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “It was quick though—two minutes, maybe less. He slobbered in my hair and withdrew, leaving the condom still inside me he’d deflated so fast.”

John took her chin between his thumb and index finger. His eyes flashed. “If I ever find the sick son of a bitch, I’ll kill him.”

“Why? He thought I was up for it. He did nothing wrong, really, and he did pay for it with his car.”

John clenched his teeth. “He was fifty-three and you are what, twenty-four?”

“Twenty-three.”

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