Page 11 of Tempting Little Thief

“In your dreams.”

His tongue comes out, flicking along his lip ring, and like a lightning bolt in a stormy night sky, my attention strikes down.

The tall, tattooed tyrant leans toward me, and I narrow in on the gleaming silver loop on the tip of his pink tongue as it teases the spot demanding my notice.

His feet shuffle in, bringing us nose to nose, and my lips flatten as his jeans meet my bare skin, the heat of his breath rolling over my jaw and neck when he dips the slightest bit.

“Them legs, those heels … I don’t know, Rich Girl, there’s a good chance you might beexactlywhat I see when I close my eyes tonight.”

“Careful.” I yank my head to the side when the presence of his mouth is felt closer to my cheek … and the tingling sensation it creates travels farther south without permission. “We don’t take kindly to those who touch what doesn’t belong to them.”

“Would you look at that. Guess we’ve got something in common, after all,” he whispers. “See, I’m always careful. Why do you think I’m here?”

His body retreats in an instant, and I snap to attention, mouth parted in a brief moment of surprise as I realize his play but clamping into a flat line as he takes a few backward steps.

Once again, his lazy,brazengaze licks across my skin, his teeth sinking into his swollen, recently split bottom lip. “Such a shame,” he murmurs to himself.

And then he turns to leave, lifting his hand to press on the sensor lock beside the door.

I could almost laugh. Truly.

Did he think it would be so easy?

He must assume he’s clever.

He’s not …

Bass

My palm comes down on the large, lit-up square, and the high-tech fuckery of a lock shifts … right as I’m kicked in the ass—a weak-ass kick.

Whipping around, I frown when Little Miss Priss isn’t standing behind me but now sitting on top of the bar, one long, naked leg crossed over the other, coin rolling a miniature dagger over the knuckles of her left hand, without so much as looking at it.

She cocks her head, lengthy, silky blonde hair spilling over her shoulder and teasing the edges of her bare thighs. My hand slaps out once more, and the door behind me relocks.

She curls her fingers over the edge of the bar, her brows bouncing once.

Keeping a careful eye on her, I shift, quickly glancing at my back pocket. A small silver blade sticks straight through the worn denim. I yank it free and toss it to the side before pulling my phone out of said pocket, the phone she fucking swiped from me with her little kitty cat game of brushing her body against mine at the gas station. The back is pierced, the techy bullshit on the inside staring back at me.

Sure the fuck enough. When I flip it over, the screen’s black.

Great. Now I have to figure out who to jack for a new phone and blackmail some asshole into jailbreaking it before they use the damn FindMe app.

My eyes snap up to the blonde brat who keeps creating more work for me—as if I don’t have a full enough plate as it is. I lower my arm to my side, my phone dangling loosely from my fingertips. I tap it against my thigh. “Lucky shot.”

She smirks, glancing away, and in a blink, the knife in her left hand is tossed to the right, my phone flying from my grasp as both the knife and it clank to the floor.

I glare and she smiles brightly, like a fucking straight-up beauty queen. Bet she could snap her fingers at almost anyone, and on their knees they’d go.

Pretty little Piranha.

“If you wanted me to stay, sharpshooter, you could have just asked.”

“I’m not well versed in asking,” she fires back.

Glancing around the room, from the marble floors to the vaulted ceilings, weird-ass designs curved and carved along it, leading to giant pillars in each corner. Everything is shiny and crisp fucking clean. Expensive and unnecessary, like the three chandeliers, the dozen or more bundles of white and pink roses randomly scattered around the space, and the crystal containers holding them. They’re useless. Wasteful.

I give a half shake of my head. “Nah, I bet the fuck not.”

---