CHAPTER 10
Shane was on fire. All the usual adrenaline from doing a job, all the usual ramp-up from a job getting complicated, and then Cecily walking into the middle of a trigger-happy pissing contest. If they’d touched her . . . if they’d so much as pointed a weapon at her, he would have lost his fucking shit. Forget the money. It was all he could do to go along with her ridiculous happy-go-lucky charm-my-way-out-of-it game plan, when what he really wanted to do was blow somebody’s head off just for looking at her too long.
They made it outside, and Shane dragged her around the corner. For a minute, he just stood there, the sports bag over his shoulder, and the string of a blue-and-white Gap bag full of hundred-dollar bills swinging from his fist while his brain skittered between the memories of Cecily’s soft body against his and all the things he’d convinced himself during his hotel-hallway “Come to Jesus” moment when he’d sworn hands off.
Apparently, no matter how easy the job or how many you’ve done . . . no matter how poker your face looks to the outside world . . . well, there’s just something about walking out of a dangerous situation holding the take and looking into the eyes of a girl you desperately want to fuck, who you know desperately wants to fuck you, that’s just going to shut down your logic receptors and make your dick hard.
Shane didn’t care. He didn’t care about stupid criminals breaking rules. He didn’t care about Dex. He didn’t care about James and the Russians. And he didn’t care about time.
Cecily started for the car, Shane two steps behind her, when he turned in the opposite direction, using one arm to hook his girl and duck them both into an adjacent alley.
Against the brick wall of the coffee shop she sucked in a quick breath. Her purse slid to her feet, and her eyes went wide. “Are you—”
“Dunno,” he said randomly, crushing his mouth down on hers, the bag of cash out of his grip falling between their feet.
Shane let the adrenaline feed his desire. Every iota of self-control he’d exhibited in the hotel went out the window. Cecily gasped against his mouth as he pulled her closer, but any surprise in that was blown away by a breathy “Yes.”
That’s all he needed to hear. He grabbed her, fistfuls of her collar on either side, and drove her into the wall behind her. Gonna make you come so hard you’ll never stop thinking about me. His tongue plundered her mouth, and she answered his call, alternately pressing her body up against his and grabbing on to whatever she could to bring him closer. Sloppy, rough, nearly mindless, all Shane could think about was how much he wanted to touch her skin. His mouth trailed down her throat. Cecily arched her back, and Shane licked her nipple through her clothes.
He loosened her belt, had her fly down, his hand moving to her panties.
She reached for his waistband; Shane batted her hand away, sunk one finger into her wet pussy, pressed her firmly against the bricks, and went still. Oh, my god, so wet. So gorgeous . . . wet.
“Shane?” Cecily asked.
A smile curled the corners of his mouth as he covered her body with his, his fingers in her panties covered with her slick. She couldn’t move underneath his weight. Her eyes widened the moment she understood, and then her mouth opened. The only thing he moved was the slight brush of his finger across the lips of her pussy.
His eyes locked on hers, his massive body covering her own. He held her against the wall, caging her in his embrace, his hard cock throbbing through his jeans against her side. And he just . . . barely . . . touched her clit.
“Oh, my god,” Cecily whispered, her face flushed. He didn’t have to explain or ask; she let him own her. His finger circled her bud, changing pressure only just enough as he watched her face and followed her passion.
She tried to squirm, tried to press up against him, but he held her fast, now kneading his cock against her more rhythmically as he pressed another finger into her cunt and fucked her with his hand.
“I’m—I’m . . .” Her head dropped, her face pressing into the crook of his neck. Shane whispered, “I know you’re gonna have the sweetest pussy, and I haven’t even tasted you yet” into her ear, and Cecily just reared her head back, her eyes closed and mouth open, and let out a long, uncontrolled shout of release.
As she recovered and raised her smile from his shoulder, Shane slowly pulled his hand away, reveling in her musky scent.
“What about you?” Cecily asked, a little mischievous as she wiped the sweat off her face. But then she looked down at whatever she was stepping on and saw the giant pile of money. Her smile extinguished, and it was like the sun had just gone down.
“That’s dirty money, isn’t it?”
It didn’t sound like much of a question, actually. Shane pulled his defensive mask on, going dead eyes and flat mouth. “You keep stepping on it, it will be.” He bent down and stuffed the cash back inside and then tried to hand her the bag. “Here. Consider it your cut.”
“What are you doing? I’m not going to hold it!” She took a step back, and it fell on the ground again. “I don’t like this. Is this what you and Dex are into? Who gave you that? Why would someone give you that?”
“How about because I did my job?” Shane suggested. “What did you think was gonna be in the bag? What did you think I was doing in there? Lifting weights for fun?”
All Shane could see was red. Anger, desire—he had no idea. He just wanted to knock some sense into her and kiss that mouth some more. Something. Anything. “Don’t look like that. You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“This is getting crazy,” Cecily said.
“This is what I do.”
She sucked in a quick breath.
“I didn’t ask you to come into the gym,” Shane said. “In fact, I set it up so none of that would touch you. You walked into my world. And if you’d stop to think, you’d realize that not everything that’s legal is inherently good. It’s generally perfectly legal for some asshole you’re dating to yell at you and make you feel like shit.”
“Well, I’m not taking dirty money,” Cecily said. “And I’m really starting to freak out about Dex taking it too.”
Shane set his jaw, feeling strangely hurt and still hopped up on the twin thrills of the take and the kiss. He pulled out his phone. “Do you need to call your brother and nag him about it right now? Or do you want to take a few more seconds to enjoy the afterglow of the orgasm I just gave you?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You’re a closed-minded b—”
Cecily blanched, and he closed his mouth.
A bolt of shame raced through Shane’s body. He looked down at the filthy ground, shaking his head. “Sorry . . .”
She was waiting for the end of his sentence, looking about as puzzled as he felt, bee-stung lips and a faint scrape across her cheekbone from his stubble when he’d whispered in her ear. Shane shook his head, and words just exploded out of his mouth before he could think or stop them or change them into something else. “You know, kid, we’ve got this thing between us, and it is . . . this thing that clearly I can’t stop myself from wanting to explore. You’re this combination that I never thought existed, and if I ever thought it existed, I’m sure I didn’t think it existed for someone like me. My hands, my mouth, my cock are all ‘man, what is your problem’ and I just want to touch you all the time. You still smell like oranges, and I’m still fucking hard for you, but we’ve got these . . . I don’t know . . . circumstances, and I just don’t see how it ever ends without us standing in an alley staring at each other like we just can’t understand what the hell the other person was thinking.”
Shane reached out and ran his fingers down a wave of hair resting against her stunned face. Then he grabbed the sports bag. “Car’s right outside. Take your time.”
When he got back to the curb, his habitual glance up and down the street produced some results. There was a car parked by a hungry meter flashing red with indignation. Shitty white sedan, Japanese make needing a wash, notable only for the last three digits of the license being 321. Nothing special except for the fact that it was the car that looked suspicious back when he’d first picked Cecily up. The driver was either ducked down in the seat or watching from afar, maybe even inside the café. Thank fuck he and Cecily had ducked into that alley for their little one-on-one.
Still. Shit.
Shane turned on his phone and called Rothgar back, recited the plate number, and got a confirmation that the plate and the freelancer were a match. “Guess James Peterson didn’t put all that time in faking a life with Cecily Keegan for nothing,” Rothgar said. “She’s still a weak link he thinks has intel on the Hudson Kings. And it appears he’s considering asking for a second chance.”
She’s not weak. But she was defenseless. Shane clenched a fist. “I’m heading straight for New York,” he said.
“Haul ass, brother. You’re in enemy sights.”