Chapter 13

Kalista

Who would have thought that running from kidnappers with a mysterious thief—who has a code name—would be so boring?

The last two days I’ve done nothing but lounge around watching Netflix, pestering Griff for more details about why we’re in Barcelona, taking advantage of the impressive workout room, and pestering Griff some more.

Griff, on the other hand, has been busy.

Just yesterday, he left the apartment on five separate occasions.

And he’s been almost constantly on his phone texting or talking. One conversation he’s speaking Spanish and talking about someone named “The Jackal,” and the next, I think he’s talking in Arabic.

When I pester him, he just smirks at me and tells me to “be patient” or to “stop eavesdropping.” I wouldn’t eavesdrop if he just told me what the fuck was going on. But as it is now, I can’t just sit around doing nothing.

It’s maddening.

I think that’s why he actually does it. He gets a laugh out of my frustration.

Maybe next time I’ll stab him. Nowhere life threatening—maybe just in his ass.

Then maybe he’ll get the fucking hint.

A heavy sigh that carries my boredom and frustration fills my current accommodations.

The movie in front of me isn’t really holding my attention.

Fuck—the only reason I’m watching it is because Henry Cavill has a couple of shirtless scenes. I turn off the television and stroll out into the sitting room.

Griffin is sitting in front of his laptop with his phone in hand. His sapphire-like eyes dart back and forth between his phone’s screen and laptop’s screen.

I lean against the wall and fold my arms over my chest as I glare at him.

He hates it when I do this.

It takes all of three minutes for him to look up at me.

“Yes, love? Something I can do for you? Or are you just enjoying the view?”

He flashes that deceptively charming grin of his. At first I hated it, but I’ve come to enjoy the sight.

Not that I’d tell him. His ego is big enough as it is.

“If I wanted a view to enjoy, I’d go watch the pigeons shit all over the street,” I coo.

“Oh my. Such rapier-like wit.”

“Well, your wardrobe would know just how good I am with a rapier.”

“Touché,” he says with a wink. “So, what is it that I can do for you?”

“I want you to teach me how to be a thief. Like you.”

Griff’s eyes fill with surprise—and a hint of doubt—at my request.

“Surely, you can’t be serious.”

“And why not? Because I’m some spoiled heiress? Or a woman can’t do the job?”

I stand up straight from the wall and look him dead in the eye, defying him to turn me down.

“All right, fair enough love.”

Griff closes his laptop and sets his phone on top of it. I’m actually a bit surprised that he agreed to do this without argument. And I’m wondering if perhaps he has an ulterior motive.

He strolls over into the middle of the room and motions for me to stand before him with a finger.

“So, the first thing I’m going to teach you is pickpocketing. It’s the absolute, single most important skill you can have in my line of work.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s all about control,” he says as he starts to walk around me in a circle. “Being a thief—an exceptional thief—is about control. And being a pickpocket exemplifies that control.”

He stops behind me. I can feel his body so close to mine that it tickles my spine like a feather.

From the corner of my eye, I see his hands move to my arms. I can feel the presence of his hands against me, but he doesn’t actually touch me.

I turn and look down, and his hands glide along the length of my arms. His palms are so close to my flesh that I can almost feel him touching me, but I can see that he isn’t.

Griff’s hands are incredibly steady as he runs them over my body. Even as he starts to walk around me his hands never waiver from their close proximity. There’s a stillness to them that’s almost poetic.

As he moves around me, I swear that I can feel his hands caressing me. They aren’t, but part of me actually wishes they were. There’s something exceptionally erotic about how he’s able to touch all of me without laying a finger on me.

It’s enough that it makes my pussy wet.

“Now, it’s not just about physical control. It’s mental control as well. You can’t just go jump the gun, when you see an easy mark. You have to control that excitement and anticipation just as much as you have to control your body.”

He stops in front of me, and I look up to meet his eyes.

I swallow hard when I see everything but control in his gaze.

The want that I have to feel his hands all over me is definitely not one sided. I knew that from the first moment we laid eyes on each other. But to see such raging desire dance about in those blue eyes of his is something I was just not prepared for.

I’ve been looked at by a lot of different men in a lot of different ways. Some of it wanted, but most of it not. And none of them have ever looked at me the way Griffin does.

I search my brain for a word—any word—to accurately describe this indescribable feeling, but I come up blank. Perhaps the word hasn’t been invented yet. Or maybe it’s something more than a word can describe.

“So what you’re saying is that as the best thief in the world, you’re a master of control?” I ask in a husky whisper.

Griff inches closer to me. So close that our bodies are nearly pressing together like they were in that alleyway days ago when he kissed me. The warmth I feel radiating from his body washes over me like blanket fresh from the dryer.

And yet our bodies still don’t touch.

It’s so provoking and vexatious.

The tiny gap between us may as well be as huge as the Grand Canyon.

Then I’m hit with this sense of sudden freedom—in a manner of speaking.

My eyes blink rapidly through the surprise I’m feeling, and my hands move to back and chest.

My bra has come undone. Not on its own mind you, but from Griff.

I had been so distracted that I didn’t even feel his hands slip the hooks on my bra.

“What? How?”

Slowly, his lips turn upward into a small smile.

“I told you, love. It’s all about control.”

On one hand, I’m annoyed with myself for falling for his trick and not noticing what he was doing. On the other hand, I’m also incredibly impressed that he was able to do it so smoothly.

But they do say that turnaround is fair play.

My gaze falls back to his smile. I linger on his lips for a moment before looking back up into his eyes.

I bite down on my lower lip and stand up on the tips of my toes.

I lean forward enough so that he can feel the warmth of my breath against his lips.

That want and desire that dances in his eyes only grows more wild and untamed.

He’s caught—hook, line, and sinker.

My fingers slowly move to the clasp of his belt. Inch by inch, I start to slide it from around his waist. The closer it gets to coming off, the closer our lips move to one another.

And just when I think I have him, his hands grab my wrists.

I jump in surprise.

Griff just softly laughs at me.

“Don’t think you can teach the teacher on day one,” he says teasingly.

“What makes you think I just didn’t want to take your pants off?” I counter with a suggestive tone.

This time he swallows hard and looks at me confused and with pique curiosity.

“Are you playing me right now?”

I can feel the smirk spread upon my lips as I lean in to his ear.

“You’ll never know.”

I give him a wink of my own and start toward the hallway. I slip off my bra as I leave him and toss it over my shoulder in his direction.

He may have won the battle, but I won the war.

At least, that’s what I’ll tell myself while I take my cold shower.