St. Clair’s fingers dig into my ass as he grips me to him, urging me on. I rock faster, loving the heat between us, the slick glide of the water on our skin. I can feel my climax building, and I arch up, slamming down on him over and again, not caring that we’re splashing all over the tile. St. Clair matches me, thrusting up, reaching to cup my breasts and murmur my name, over and over.
“Fuck, yes, Grace.” His words drive me on, and I feel incredible, unleashed, like nothing can hold me back. I take my pleasure from him and give it too, grinding my hips with every thrust to satisfy the ache. Again and again he lifts and plunges, his face in my breasts, our fast breaths and soft grunts urging each other on, until I can feel the hum building in my clit, a rising symphony of pleasure intensifying with each second until I’m sure it can’t get any better.
“Yes,” I groan in his ear. “Yes.” And then it does get even better, and I scream St. Clair’s name as the crescendo of a lifetime blows my mind, my orgasm ripping through me as St. Clair thrusts up one last time and lets out an animal groan.
We come together, and I collapse into his arms.
“I love you, Grace.” He kisses my shoulder and I shiver. “More than I’ve loved anyone, ever.”
Later, we’re wrapped in luxurious fluffy robes, relaxing in front of a roaring fire. “Do you have a stash of these at each house?” I ask, fingering the soft fabric. “Are you their biggest customer?”
“Hardly,” he says. “I know for a fact Prince William has a different one for each day of the week.” He pulls me in for a kiss and our lips are still not tired of each other, our tongues melting into each other yet again…I lean back too far and bump into the side table. My purse topples to the floor, spilling its contents like confetti.
I pick up my phone and notice that the case has come dislodged. There’s a tiny chip attached, just inside by the speaker. I freeze, then hold out my phone to show it to St. Clair.
“What is it?” I whisper. “A bug?”
He looks it over, then nods his head. He draws me across the room. “It’s a tracking device too, so it’ll record all your phone conversations and transmit your location. They must have planted it back at the station, while you were in custody.”
My heart falls, my earlier insecurities come rushing back. “He’ll never give up,” I say. “Lennox is coming after us, no matter what. He wants to catch his master thief.”
“We’ll think of something.” St. Clair squeezes my shoulder. “I promise, he’ll come up empty-handed.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have to.”
A glimmer of an idea tugs at my brain.
St. Clair frowns. “What do you mean?”
I smile as my plan starts to take shape. “If Lennox’s plan is to trail me in order to catch the mastermind behind all these heists, why don’t we give him exactly what he wants: a thief in handcuffs, the collar he’s been after all this time?”
St. Clair catches the sly glint in my eyes; I know because I see it in his eyes too. He’s catching on. “I like the way you think.”
I grin. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
CHAPTER 14
The next day, I pack the last of my things, and head down to the street to wait for the cab. My phone rings. It’s St. Clair – he’s already gone ahead, like we planned.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Yes, the cab is on its way.” I make sure to speak clearly.
“Grace? Don’t get scared, okay? What’s the number one rule?”
“Stay calm,” I say, watching the street. I notice a dark car parked down the block…is there someone in there watching me? This time, I really hope so.
“Good girl,” St. Clair says. “Now what’s the plan again?”
I take a deep breath, remembering my lines. “I’ll pick up the painting and come meet you where we agreed.”
“Perfect,” he says, just like we rehearsed. “The buyer is coming this afternoon, and as soon as he’s paid us, we’ll be on a plane to sandy beaches and sunny skies for the rest of our lives.”
“Can’t wait.” A dark blue taxi pulls up in front of St. Clair’s apartment and honks. “My ride is here,” I tell him, hoping that gives Lennox enough time to start his car and get ready to move. “I have to go.”
“Grace, be careful,” St. Clair says, and I know he actually means it. “I thought someone was following me this morning. You might have a tail, too. Watch your back.”
“I will,” I say, hoping that Lennox is taking the bait. “You be careful, too.”
I hang up and whisper a little prayer that nothing goes wrong before getting into the cab, forcing myself not to turn around to check the tail car. Everything counts on us carrying out this risky plan. My plan. If we fail, it’s all on me—Crawford’s bragging rights reinstated, my romance with St. Clair ruined, not to mention my freedom and ability to live like a normal citizen permanently revoked.
One night behind bars was more than enough for me, yet here I am, risking it all again. I take a deep breath. Focus, Grace. One step, one brushstroke at a time. You can make a whole painting that way, but first you have to start.
And if we can pull this off…Lennox will leave us alone, once and for all. We’ll be free.
It’s worth the risk.
I take the taxi to St. Clair’s storage space, and make sure to exit the building with a not-so-subtly concealed brown painting tube under my arm, just like the one St. Clair emerged from the alley with that night in London when I found out the truth. It seems like a lifetime ago, and the irony doesn’t escape me that I’m in his exact position now.
Only I want to get caught.
I get back into the cab and direct the driver to the Gare du Nord train station. When I check behind us, I see that same dark car from back at the apartment still trailing behind.
They’re taking the bait.
“Merci,” I say to the cab driver as I pay him and roll my suitcase behind me. The old train station is bustling with people under the stone archways, everyone carrying bags and hurrying from one place to another. I look around nervously as I tuck the painting tube under my jacket, making sure to leave the end in plain sight. I want to look anxious and scared, but this part isn’t faked. I really am worried now. So much of the plan could go wrong, and there are so many details we can’t predict.
One step at a time.
I approach the ticket counter. “One ticket to Alsace,” I speak loudly, so anyone nearby can hear, even though the tracker in my phone will lead them straight to me. I take my ticket to the train, walking slowly, then climb on board the train.
I head down the narrow corridor and find an empty compartment. My phone chirps with a text from St. Clair. Everything okay?
All according to plan, I write back.
The engine starts, and the train slowly moves out of the station. I sit back, watching from the windows as the Paris city streets make way for rolling countryside. It’s beautiful, and the passing landscape reminds me of all the movies my mom and I watched with characters taking trains or planes or hot air balloons to their next adventures in faraway lands. Look at me now, doing just that, going on a quest to help someone I love, to places I’ve always wanted to visit. The circumstances may not be exactly what I dreamed of, but I’m here, and the fantasy can’t compare to the reality of love, of a connection like St. Clair and I have. And the future we’re going to build together. Fields of yellow daisies stretch out in a vista worthy of a painting outside my window, white puffy clouds drifting lazily above in the blue sky.
I can’t believe that just a month ago I was rushing to make that first intern interview at the auction house- and ran straight into St. Clair. I had no idea then what awaited me.