Chapter Thirty-Three
Jaxon was right.
The restaurant manager is so crestfallen by my picking at the food that he offers us a complimentary two nights’ stay at the hotel.
Once we’re through, the bill paid, Jaxon runs his right hand through his hair and then repeats the action with his left. A signal we’d all agreed upon. A message to Collin that it’s time to get Yineris to take him upstairs.
I lift my champagne flute to my lips and slide my gaze over to Collin. He gives an infinitesimal nod.
Jaxon gets to his feet and rounds the table, offering me the crook of his arm.
Resisting the compulsion to make a quip about his feigned gallantry—this is a job—I stand and lock my arm through his. Together we move through the restaurant toward the bar.
As we approach, Collin and Yineris are making to leave.
Out of nowhere, a big black bloke appears, blocking our path. His back is to us, his attention on Yineris and Collin. I recognize him from the files we studied this morning. One of Yineris’s bodyguards.
He proceeds to trail Yineris and Collin to the elevators, but Yineris stops and turns to him.
Although the big, bulky bodyguard has blocked our path, Jaxon doesn’t change direction or even try to go around him. He walks straight into the man.
“Whoa,” he mumbles with an uncharacteristic politeness. “I’m so sorry. This way, babe.” He steps around the big bloke with me in tow.
As we pass the trio, Yineris tells her bodyguard, “Quédate aquí. Si usted no recibe una actualización de mí en una hora, llegar a la suite.”
I mentally translate. Stay here. If you don’t get an update from me in one hour, come up to the suite.
“Señorita da Costa,” he says, jerking his head to indicate Collin, “no estoy seguro de que es una buena idea.”
No kidding that’s not a good idea.
She waves him off. “Estaré bien. Él es inofensivo. Él es sólo una aventura americana barato.”
I laugh inwardly when she assures her bodyguard Collin is harmless. Just a cheap American fling. If only she knew.
Jaxon leads me around the hook of the bar, down to the very last stool in the darkest of corners, where the stool is half tucked inside a curved niche in the wall. In an ordinary bar, this is most likely where the creepers would hide. But I don’t question it. Jaxon never does anything without a reason.
He unhooks our arms and sits on the stool already against the wall, then drags another stool up close. Too close. “Sit.”
I do, but the stools are so close there’s no room for my legs unless I face away from him. Before I can point this out, he pats his thighs, a wordless suggestion to throw my legs over his.
I gawk. “This is a public place. Full to capacity, I might add.”
“No one can see anything in this corner. And the counter is too high for the bartender to notice my hand up your skirt.”
Oh Jesus.
My neck burns at the thought of his hand up my skirt. Is that his intention? To fondle me in the dark corner of a bar?
Why does the idea turn me on so much?
I glance over my shoulder. Collin and Yineris are gone, and the bodyguard is looking none too pleased about his boss’s decision to leave him behind.
Bringing my attention back to Jaxon, I give in and swing my legs over his thighs. My dress rides up, giving him a full view and access to all that is now his.
“What did you take from the bodyguard?” I ask.
His hands on my bare thighs, he murmurs, “I need to be careful with you, Sunny Day.”
Oh jeez. He’s clearly never going to give up this endearment thing. Not when he knows it bugs the crap out of me.
“Your wisest words yet,” I agree. Still, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he stole something from the man when he bumped into him on purpose.
He smooths his hands up my thighs, his thumbs settling at the apex, meeting each other tip to tip. I’m both sexually awakened and petrified. We’re in public, for crying out loud!
“He’s the only guard here with her,” he tells my spread thighs. “Therefore, she would’ve seen to it that he had a key to her suite.”
“Did you get it?” My breath hitches when his thumbs circle over my lace-covered mound.
“If I tell you I did, will you let me go further?” he asks my panties. “With these sinful, corrupted hands?” His voice drops to a husky whisper, “You want to be corrupted, Timber?”
He got it. Of course he got it. He wouldn’t be sitting here so unconcerned if he hadn’t.
One thumb rubs over my clit and the word, “Yes,” is out before I can stop it.
“Si, she says,” he mutters in a sardonic tone. “Si, to defiling her.”
In one smooth motion, he shifts my knickers to the side and inserts a finger inside me.
“Oh, God,” I moan aloud, then immediately slap my hand over my mouth.
I glance over to check to see whether the bartender—or anyone—heard me. But the bartender is all the way down at the other end pouring shots, and everyone else is oblivious to us in this corner. I guess in an establishment filled with self-important moneybags, people aim to be seen rather than hide in dark corners.
As Jaxon’s finger slides out and in again, I rock forward and press my face into his chest, muffling the sounds that refuse to be held back.
Why is he doing this to me right now, right here? In the middle of a job?
Because he knows he owns me. And because he owns me, he knows he can.
“Si, she says,” he continues, “to all she knows is wrong. Si, she says, to giving me claim to all that’s hers.”
His other hand joins in and…magic.
“Si, she says, to her first beso. Si, she says, to her first touch.”
My legs are trembling now.
“Si, she says. Si. Si. Si, I’m yours. Solo tuyo.”
It’s not until I’m mounting the back of my orgasm that I understand what he’s done. He just programmed me. So, by the time I’m seized by my climax, gripping his jacket, my legs stiffening, all that’s flowing from my tongue is, “Si, si, si. I’m yours. Only yours.”
I’m so overcome with pleasure, I cannot even be angry. I’m nothing but a burning ball of shivers and moans, racing heartbeats and shallow breaths. Going on and on and on.
It feels like forever before I’m finally released, euphoria’s spirit slowly evaporating like smoke.
Once I regain control of my senses, I jerk away from him and punch his chest, one, two, three, four times. “Don’t ever do that again!”
“You sure that’s what you want?” He flashes me a half grin and leans back on the barstool, his back into the wall. “No more orgasms? Ever?”
“You know what I mean.” I punch him again for good measure. I want to cause him serious bodily harm, and that half smirk on his face serves only to piss me off. “Do not ever go into my head like that again. How dare you try to program me like a damn monkey?”
“Try?” He’s smug now. So damn smug.
I shoot my fist out to punch him again, but he catches it. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”
I’m far from flattered.
“You’re all mine, huh?” he says, cocky. “So…obsessive.”
I swear to God, I growl at the wanker. “Those words are not mine. You put them in my head, you bloody con.”
He stifles a laugh.
“I mean it, Jaxon.” I point a threatening finger at him—at least I hope it’s threatening. “No more mind games. Stay. Out.”
One eyebrow kicks up. “But you’re allowed to experiment?”
“There’s a big difference.”
He cocks his head as if to ask, “How?”
Feeling bold—after having gotten my rocks off in public—I lean forward, grip the lapels of his vest, and brazenly lick my tongue up his throat. “You love my experiments.”
I hear him swallow. But his next words are not what I expect. “The bodyguard just received the text. Time to go.”
I let out a disappointed sigh. I was actually enjoying our little dark corner fondling, mind manipulation, and ire stoking.
Alas, the plan was for Collin to swipe Yineris’s phone and send a message to the bodyguard telling him that she was safe and would be turning in for the night. Which is the signal to us that all is clear for us to sneak up to the suite.
Jaxon leans forward to loop one long arm around my lower back and, without warning, he stands.
Instinctively, my legs and arms lock around him to prevent an embarrassing fall. “Whoa. You could have warned me, mate.”
He steps from between the barstools and lowers me to my feet. Then grasps the hem of my dress and tugs it down. While he smooths out the creases, he looks me in the eye with complete sincerity and says, “I never give warnings. When you’re with me, always expect…everything.”
I believe him. I have felt and experienced the truth in those words.
He spins me, drapes an arm loosely around my waist, and leads me out of the bar and restaurant. I sneak a glance over to the bodyguard, but his back is turned to us. He’s chatting up the blonde who’d been all over Collin earlier.
As if he’s been here a million times before, Jaxon strolls through the lobby and straight to the lift. There’s lots of chatter, wheeling suitcases, and busy bellboys, so no one bats an eye at us.
Just before we reach the lift, a bellboy with a small two-wheel suitcase crosses our path, and the next thing I know, Jaxon is the one with the wheeling suitcase.
Smooth. Real smooth.
We enter the lift, Jaxon inserts the key, and “PH2” illuminates.
The moment the doors slide shut, he unzips the front pocket of the suitcase, removes a little black roll-up pouch, and from it he selects a skinny screwdriver. He drops to one knee in front of the button panel and begins to undo the screws.
“What are you doing?”
The plot to infiltrate Yineris’s home, I know. But this hotel plan was last minute, so I’m not up to date on what’s going on.
“The elevator opens directly into the penthouse suite, accompanied by an alerting ding,” he tells me. “I have to disable that alert.”
“You can get that done before we get to the suite?” I ask doubtfully.
All I receive is a humorless laugh.
In seconds, he has the panel off, selects a clipper, and, with utter certainty and precision, clips the yellow wire that runs across the middle. And in the next couple of seconds, he has the whole thing screwed back together.
After tucking the pouch back into the suitcase, he straightens and looks pointedly up at the floor number. We have three more floors to go.
He glances smugly over at me.
“Humility is one size fits all, and it looks good on anyone,” I say with an eye roll. “You should try it sometime.”
“Jealousy is a hideous green that blinds the ugly and mars the beautiful.” He winks. “You should take it off.” He leans down and whispers, “You’re being marred, beautiful.”
“Oh, sod off.”
Mercifully, the doors slide open, and I hold my breath, waiting for the ding, but none comes. I relax.
“She doubts me,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m offended.”
I don’t acknowledge that. He’s incorrigible.
We exit the lift, and our own footfalls make me wince. The floors are marble.
“Take off your shoes,” he instructs quietly as he toes off his own.
Mine are a little more complicated, with all the straps going this way and that, so it takes me a bit longer.
Once they’re off, he sets them aside and silently zips open the suitcase. He takes out a set of gloves and tosses them at me. Next, he gets out the faux vase.
“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?” I whisper as I tug mine on.
“I don’t have fingerprints.”
Wha—uh. Seriously?
“Pumice stone.”
Oh. Interesting.
With a gesture for me to follow, he moves with cautious steps through the foyer.
We go left, only to stop short at the sound of a deep moan. He grabs my hand and tugs me along a tall potted plant.
A gust of cool wind ruffles the sheer curtains and glides over our skin, whispering through the suite.
He steps around the plant and suddenly stops short again, causing me to crash into his back. He’s looking straight ahead.
I peek around him, and I heat so deep I know I’m crimson.
The sliding glass doors off the living room are open, leading out to a long balcony with wrought iron railings. Out on the balcony are Collin and Yineris.
With his back to the railing, Collin stands with his shirt unbuttoned, his trousers and boxers bunched at his ankles, and a nude Yineris is kneeling in front of him, her long hair dangling past her butt as her head bobs up and down.
Collin’s head is thrown back, his eyes are closed, and his lips are parted as deep, pleasure-filled moans escape him.
Suddenly, his eyes snap open, and I jump, heating with embarrassment, as if I’m the one caught in the act. Which, I guess, I kind of am.
Yet, when he spots us, he shows no sign of embarrassment. Nope. He just winks at me and grins. Goddamn Collin.
Shifting his gaze to Jaxon, he shakes his head, and jerks it to the right.
We’re going the wrong way.
Yineris’s head stops bobbing, and she makes as if to stand, but Collin slides his fingers in her hair and grips it hard, forcing her back to the act.
She doesn’t appear to have a problem with his roughness. She goes right back to it, emitting a delighted moan.
“Yes, baby…just like that. Shit, you Spaniards give the best head.”
I don’t realize how engrossed I am in the scene until Jaxon grips me at the back of my neck and physically drags me to the right.
“Sorry,” I mouth at him.
We make it into the luxurious bedroom undetected, and I beeline for the closet, where I know most hotel safes are located. “This is too small to fit a vase,” I whisper before I realize I’m talking to myself.
Jaxon went straight into the bathroom.
I follow. He’s at the vanity, attempting to remove a huge mirror framed with dark wood from the wall, but it won’t budge.
I quietly suggest, “Check for a hidden push button or lever.”
He runs two fingers under the bottom of the frame, along the left side, over the top, then down the right side, where he suddenly pauses, and presses something.
With a click, the right side of the mirror loosens from the wall and swings out like a door. When he opens it more, it reveals a safe—keypad entry.
From his pocket, he withdraws a small pouch, zips it open, and takes out a little baggy of blue powder, a tiny brush, and a micro flashlight. Using the brush, he dusts some of the blue powder over the keypad, then whispers, “Turn out the lights.”
I do so.
He shines the teeny flashlight at the keypad, and the numbers 8, 0, 2, and 7 show fingerprints in neon green. When he punches in these numbers, the safe door swings open, offering up the prize.
I turn the lights back on. He switches the two vases, relocks the safe, cleans off the keypad, rights the mirror, and we’re on the move again.
The sex noises are louder as we slip through the bedroom. Yineris is screaming in pleasure, praising Collin’s prowess in her native tongue. As we move through the suite toward the lift, I can hear the slap of skin against skin, and Collin’s grunts and groans as he tells her how good she feels.
I try to fight it, but I can’t help being turned on. What they’re doing, it sounds…exciting. It sounds… It sounds—
I want that.
At the elevator, I hit the call button while Jaxon crouches down and unzips the suitcase.
With gentle care, he puts the vase in on its side amidst a nest of bubble wrap. I tug my gloves off and throw them in, and he zips it up again. He hands me my shoes, puts on his own, and grasps the handle of the suitcase. A little tighter than necessary.
Soundlessly, the doors to the lift open, and we walk in. Jaxon hits the floor button, and as the doors close, he takes my shoes from my hands, drops to his knees before me, and taps my left foot.
As I lift my foot and work it into the complication of straps, he mutters, “Control yourself, Timber.”
Eyes squeezing shut, I draw in a breath. “I’m trying. But it just sounded so…hot.”
Done with my left foot, he moves on to my right. “Did it? Or are you turned on because it’s Col?”
“What?” I ask the top of his head. But he doesn’t respond. What the hell is that question? Is he serious? Is he still jealous of Collin?
Once he’s done, he straightens and moves to stand beside me, shoulder to shoulder, gripping the handle of the suitcase, his grip as tight as his jaw. He stares straight ahead at the glossy, stainless-steel door.
A realization dawns on me, and I can’t stop staring at the side of his face.
“What?” he snaps, without looking at me.
“Why did you take me up here with you?” I demand. “Snagging that key card from the bodyguard made the job even easier than it already was. You didn’t need me. At all. I could’ve waited in the lobby. Why did you bring me up?”
It takes him damn near forever and a day to answer. “You wouldn’t have sta—”
“I would have,” I cut him off. “I’d never want to do anything to foil a job. I would’ve obeyed. I would’ve stayed, and you know that. So tell me the truth.”
As I expected, he doesn’t tell me the truth.
So I tell it for him. “You wanted me to see. You wanted me to see Col and that woman. You were hoping seeing him like that, with her, would repel me and turn me off him. And to make sure of it, you deliberately went the wrong way. There’s no way you, Jaxon King, didn’t research the layout of the hotel before coming here. You already knew where the bedroom was, but you wanted me to see them. And you made sure to get me off first, so it wouldn’t affect me in the way you didn’t want it to affect me.” I shake my head, too annoyed to be angry. “Because you’re still jealous—”
“You almost let him fuck you!” he explodes. He snaps around to face me, and I jump back. I’ve never witnessed him react so vehemently to anything before.
As if realizing he’s just lost control in an un-Jaxon-like manner, he closes his eyes, inhales deeply, and shakes his head.
When he reopens them, he takes a step back from me. “I hated seeing you with him even when I thought you were hooking up. Then I find out the truth, I think you’re all mine, and I rush home from a long job…and there you are on my couch, offering him what I thought was mine to take. I’m not jealous, Timber, I’m angry.”
Guilt fills me up like a lemonade jug, overflowing with both sweet and sour. But I put a lid on it, because I shouldn’t be feeling guilty about a damn thing. “Oh, don’t act like the victim here. When you found out the truth, you weren’t happy that I’m all yours. You were pissed. You hated me. You ran from me. You went and slept with your precious Nadine. And disappeared for days with no word.”
“Hey, I didn’t sleep with Nadine. I slept in Ed’s old room,” he protests. “And I wasn’t pissed, nor could I ever hate you. I just…you conned me. That doesn’t happen to me very often, and I guess I was just— I dunno, it’s an ego thing. But pissed wasn’t it. I didn’t disappear, either. We had things to take care of. And when we’re working, we’re prohibited from contacting anyone. That’s why you never hear from me.”
“What do—”
“It’s classified, Timber. I cannot discuss what we do. Except that it’s serious and often dangerous. Please don’t ask again, so I’m not forced to be an asshole.”
Although I hate it that he’s prohibited from telling me, I nod my understanding, because I do understand. I’ve worked on projects that I’m bound by contract not to talk about, too. So, it’s something I’m just going to have to deal with.
He moves in close, crowds me, brushes the back of his knuckles down the side of my neck, his eyes boring into mine. “I don’t care if you want him more than you want me. Because I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. And by the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to tolerate anyone’s touch but mine. ’Cause I intend to con my way into your heart, Timberly Day.”
Right at that moment, when my heart is punching out of its home, fighting to jump straight into his chest and dwell with his heart, the doors to the lift slide apart.
Yineris’s bodyguard and the leftover bottle blonde stand on the other side.
I hold my breath, wondering if he can suspect anything from just looking at us.
With his beefy arm looped around the blonde’s waist, he looks at Jaxon and smirks, as if giving him a silent high five.
Playing the game, Jaxon kisses me quick but deep, with tongues and everything, before pulling back to smirk at the guard.
With a wave of his hand, he motions for me to go ahead of him.
I throw the bodyguard a genuinely sheepish smile and relax, once I realize he doesn’t suspect a thing. Then there’s a sharp smack, and a stinging sensation shoots through my left butt cheek. I yelp in pain and shock.
And I hear the deep, rumbling laugh of the bodyguard. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to turn around glare at Jaxon.
The bloody bastard just spanked me!