Page 28 of Thief

“I didn’t have a dad.”

He swept the razor upwards from his Adam’s apple and hooked it over his chin. “I thought your parents lived in Cornwall?”

Kat couldn’t honestly remember feeling so uncomfortable, so exposed and vulnerable in her entire life. Here she was trapped in her own bath, being asked questions by a brute of a man about the one subject that could twist her heart in two and bulldoze down the very high wall she’d built around herself. “I made that up. I grew up in care. I’ve never met my parents.”

John stretched his mouth downwards as he shaved above his top lip. “No sister either then, living and working as a journalist in New York.”

God, he remembered a lot of her fabrications. “No,” she confirmed. “No sister. No parents and no friends either. Just me. I’m my own family. That’s all I’ve ever needed and it suits me fine.”

John said nothing. He rinsed his razor one last time before propping it up against the tiles. He bent low over the sink, cupped his hands and splashed water onto his face. As he patted his face dry with yet another fresh towel, he said, “Sorry about that. Must have been pretty rough growing up.”

Kat lower eyelids filled at his words. Why was he being nice all of a sudden? She preferred the sarcasm, the bullying. She knew where she stood with that. Could handle it. She didn’t want or need his sympathy; she was fine on her own. She’d accepted her lot years ago. There was nothing she could do about her solitary journey through life so what was the point worrying about it? “Get out of here, will you?” she ordered, trying to blink away the moisture.

He bent down by the bath, reached forward and gently cupped her cheek with his palm.

“Surely you’ve finished by now!” she muttered, flicking her head to the tiled wall to remove his hand from her face.

John straightened and left the bathroom, shutting the door quietly.

Kat shoved three angry fingers inside her hot pussy and her other hand flew furiously over her clit. The explosion was almost instantaneous, a great volcano of sensation riding up her flesh and balancing her on a precipice. She pictured John’s face, John’s cock, John’s chest, John’s butt in the shower covered in suds. Her neck arched and her knees fell wide as her orgasm crashed over her. She heard the slaps of the water against the sides and had to bite down on her lip to prevent crying out his name as her pussy clamped around her fingers, pulsing and squeezing. She didn’t know why she wanted to say his name. It was just there—again. It was annoying.Hewas annoying.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she’d composed herself and pulled on a pale blue tracksuit.

John was whistling and banging pots and pans about.

“Hey,” he said when he noticed her standing in the kitchen doorway. “I’ve made dinner.”

“I’ll have a microwave meal.” She studied him. The shave made him look different. Since she’d met him on Saturday night, she’d gotten used to the increasingly dark stubble growing around his face and down his neck. Now he looked civilized; like a man who’d look seriously good in a suit. It made her feel less threatened. He wasn’t such a Neanderthal to have roaming about her home with his clean-cut appearance.

“No you won’t. I’ve cooked a chilli.” He pulled open the fridge and reached for a bottle of Chardonnay.

“I don’t need you to cook for me. I can look after myself. I’m not bloody Oliver Twist!”

“I’m not cooking for you.” He slid the cork from the Chardonnay. “I’m cooking for me. There just happens to be enough for you as well.” He splashed wine into a waiting glass.

Kat clamped her mouth shut. It did smell divine—tomatoes, oregano and basil with a hint of hot spice.

John held out the glass.

She lifted it to her lips and took a sip.

He hovered in front of her, expectant, waiting for some kind of appreciation for his gesture.

Kat remained silent, not meeting his eyes, simply staring past him. She wasn’t about to say thank you for anything he did. Not when he’d moved in without being invited.

* * * *

John looked down at Kat’s stubborn little face. She looked small and lost—defiant and immoral, yes, but also utterly alone. She was nothing but a temptress, a thief, and had ruined the rest of his life, but it was no good. There was something about her that sparked his interest. He wanted to know more about her, find out why she was who she was. How had she managed all these years being so totally alone in the world? It fascinated him that someone could be so self-sufficient right from being a child—especially someone who looked so vulnerable. Although, he thought ruefully, she clearly didn’t think she was vulnerable, judging by the way she was prepared to put up a fist fight.

He reached for her free hand, fully expecting her to snatch it away. To his surprise, she didn’t, so he lifted it to hover in front of his mouth. “Did you think of me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you touched yourself in the bath, were you thinking of me?” He pulled her fingertips onto the softness of his lips and sent out the tip of his tongue to lick them.

She locked her green eyes on his, and he saw the gold flecks glint.

“You taste of soap and lotion. I wish you didn’t,” he murmured around her fingers. “I wish I could taste the essence of you. Find out more about the real Kat.”

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