Chapter Nine

 

 

 

 

For the span of one thunderous heartbeat Grant managed to resist the sweet allure of Juliet’s lips. He told himself that she was a thief. That she would do anything to earn her freedom. That the wicked promise in those tip-tilted eyes was nothing more than a cleverly crafted illusion.

At least, that’s what his head told him. His cock was a bit more blunt.

Kiss. Woman. Soft. Mine.

Resist Juliet? Impossible. He could no more resist the temptation of her willing little mouth than he could resist the air he breathed. On a throaty growl he slid his pistol into the waistband of his trousers and dragged her against him, wanting to feel every inch of her delectable body pressed against his.

She leaned into him, sharp nails digging into his chest. His head slanted to the side and he deepened their kiss, ruthlessly demanding everything she had to give. Without hesitation she parted her lips and welcomed his tongue between her teeth on a soft, breathy mewl of desire that made him want to throw back his head and roar.

Grant was a man who prided himself on his self-control, but there was no control to be found in their kiss. There was only a wild, pulsating need to plunder. To devour. To leap recklessly into the flames and let himself burn.

So he did.

His hands swept up her spine and tangled in her hair, sending pins flying in every direction. The tidy coiffure unraveled, spilling fiery tendrils over her shoulders that stood out in sharp contrast against her ivory skin. The auburn tresses smelled faintly of violets, the delicately feminine scent as unexpected as it was arousing. He drew back to stare down at her, wanting to drink in every stunning inch of her flawless countenance. In the muted candlelight her entire face seemed to glow, from her flushed cheeks to her glistening lips, already swollen from the demanding pressure of his mouth.

She gazed up him, green eyes dark and troubled. A tiny line of wary bewilderment marred her smooth brow. He knew his own forehead carried the same mark. What had begun as a calculated act of seduction had quickly turned into something more powerful than either one of them could have ever anticipated.

There was no sense to their sizzling chemistry. No rhyme. No reason.

A thief and a runner?

Impossible.

And yet…

Having shared his bed with more than one courtesan, Grant knew when a woman was playing a part. He knew that was precisely what Juliet had intended to do. But he also knew, with every fiber of his being, that she had failed miserably.

If her silence was any indication, she knew it as well. When this was over – when this moment of heat and blinding passion had passed – they would still be as they had been. The hunter and the hunted. But he didn’t want it to end. Not yet. And neither did she.

This time their kiss held a hint of desperation. He devoured the honeyed nectar of her mouth like a man starved. His cock rose between them to press against her belly, branding her flesh through the thin layers of her dress with its hard, hot length.

She gasped when he rocked his pelvis against her sensitive groin.

He groaned when she sank her teeth into his bottom lip.

They both trembled, their bodies throbbing with unspoken need as they both took whatever the other had to give. His craving for her was unparalleled to anything he had ever felt before. It seized him mind, body, and soul, numbing his brain to any type of rational thought as her fingers began an exploratory path down the muscled plane of his abdomen.

Without warning her hands abruptly reversed direction and streaked behind his back. On a savage oath he tried to stop her, but passion had dulled his reflexes. Quick as a cat she grabbed his pistol and leapt out of reach, balancing nimbly on the balls of her feet as she raised the gun and pointed it straight at the middle of his chest.

Furious with her, more furious with himself, he slowly lifted his arms in the air, palms facing towards her. “You’re making a mistake,” he growled, dark eyes narrowing to slits of glinting emerald as his gaze raked across her flushed countenance. She was breathing so heavily that her breasts were temptingly close to spilling out of her flimsy bodice, but her hands were steady and her stare unflinching when she met his murderous stare with her own triumphant one.

“I don’t think so, runner.” She gave a jaunty toss of her head. “You really didn’t think that little act was going to end any other way, did you?”

Bloody hell. Even though she held his own weapon against him, he still wanted her. How could he not? Her flame-colored hair was in a wild tangle around her ivory shoulders, her mouth plump and swollen from his demanding kisses. He’d never seen a more tempting creature in all his life and his body ached to finish what they’d started. To toss her on the bed and strip away her gown. To ravish every inch of her curvy little body until she begged him to take her.

He swallowed with difficulty and shifted his weight, hoping she wouldn’t glance down and see the bulging erection pressing against his trousers.

“We both know damn well that wasn’t an act,” he said tersely.

She hesitated a second too long. “Of course it was. Now turn around and face the wall. Keep your arms above your head.”

“You’re making an enormous–”

“I believe I said now.” The sharp click of the hammer being drawn back startled him into action. Whore’s breath, she wouldn’t actually shoot him, would she?

Yes, he decided as he took note of the determined gleam in her eye.

She bloody well would.

His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together with so much force he felt a distinct pop in the back of his mouth. What he wouldn’t give to get his hands around her pretty little neck. That would wipe the arrogant smirk off those swollen lips. But as long as she held the gun she held the power, and he had no choice but to turn and walk to the wall. The paper-hangings smelled strongly of gardenia, Lady Dashwood’s fragrance of choice and the direct opposite of Juliet’s delicate scent.

“What now?” he growled after he’d slapped his hands up on the wall.  

“Now I go on my merry way and you leave me the hell alone.” He heard the bed creak as she leaned across it to presumably gather her weapons, followed by the soft padding of her footsteps on the carpet as she backed slowly towards the door. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never hurt anyone that did not deserve it, and I’ve never taken from anyone who could not afford it.”

“Is that supposed to make you a good person?” he scoffed.

“No,” she acknowledged. “But it doesn’t make me a bad one.”

“You’re a thief, Juliet. A criminal.” And he’d still kissed her senseless. So what, he wondered silently, does that make me?

He, Grant Hargrave, a man who lived and died by his moral code, had broken the rules. Rules he’d abided by his entire career, first as a soldier and then as a runner. Rules that governed his entire life, from the second he woke up in the morning to the moment he closed his eyes at night. But Juliet, with her pouty lips and velvety voice and tight little body, had been too much of a temptation to resist. So he’d broken the rules. Hell, he’d shattered the damn rules.

And now he was paying the consequences.

“You’re right,” she said. “I am a thief. A bloody good one, too. I make no apologies for who I am or what I’ve done.” Light spilled into the room when she opened the door.

“This is not over,” he vowed darkly.

“Are you going to keep chasing me, runner?” She almost sounded amused. 

“To the ends of the earth.”

Juliet was so quiet that for a moment he thought she’d fled, but when he looked back over his shoulder he found her poised in the doorway, her vivid green eyes as wild and fierce as he’d ever seen them.

“You won’t catch me. Not again.”

Her defiance only added to her untamed beauty. She reminded him of a tigress he’d seen the summer before he went off to war. The large feline had been captured in India and brought back to London to enthrall the masses. Trapped in a cage too small for her massive size, she had sat quietly while people shouted and clapped. Until her captor got too close...and she took his hand. 

For all her stunning beauty, Juliet was every bit as dangerous as that tigress had been. Something he would do well to remember the next time he was tempted to kiss her instead of capture her.

“Best sleep with one eye open, little tigress.”

“Oh?” She gave a coy tilt of her head. “And why is that?”

“Because the question is not if I’ll find you.” His ominous smile was a dark promise of things yet to come. “The question is when.”