Instead of parking, St. Clair idles the engine. “I hope today helped you understand,” he says. “I want you to see, Grace, I’m not doing this to hurt anyone. The legal channels available to people…they rarely work the way we want them to. I try to do the right thing.”
I take a deep breath. It’s the middle of the day, and there are people all around us on the street. I’m not ready to end this conversation just yet. “Come up?” I ask. “We can talk some more. Just talk,” I add.
St. Clair nods. “Anything you want.”
Inside my homey flat, I brew us another pot of tea—I’m becoming so British—and start a fire in the fireplace. Upstairs, I sit across from him on the sofa, still not trusting my body to be too close to his.
His perfectly sculpted features look tired, making him look more vulnerable, younger. I want to swoop him up in my arms and snuggle him, forget all of this. But we have to have this talk. I need to know where we stand.
St. Clair watches me, careful. “So do you understand now? Why I do it?”
“I think I do,” I say slowly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re stealing from people, and breaking the law. Sooner or later, that’s going to catch up with you. What happens to us then?” I ask, my voice twisting. “You’ll go to jail, and maybe I will too.”
“That won’t happen.” St. Clair takes my hand, reassuring.
I pull it away. “You can’t promise that. Lennox is on your trail now, and getting closer. And I’ll never know where you are, what you’re doing, and if—when—you get caught—”
“Grace—”
“I just can’t think about building a life with someone on those terms—always waiting for the axe to fall, for you to be taken away from me.” My voice cracks and I can feel the lump rising in my throat. “I’ve lost too many people already; I can’t lose you too.”
St. Clair’s face splits in a huge smile.
“Do you think this is funny?” I can feel anger rising up alongside the hurt. “I’m being serious.”
His grin doesn’t falter. I’m talking about life or death hypotheticals and he looks like he just won the lottery. “You think about building a future with me?” he says. “Really?”
I relax a little. “Of course,” I admit. “I love you, you know.”
He looks down, reaches his hand out again and sets it halfway between us. “I was afraid you’d changed your mind,” he admits.
“I wanted to. God, I wish I could have just marched out of here and gone straight to the police, but it’s not that easy.” Now I’m the one to take his hand, and twine our fingers together. I place the knot against my chest, against my heart. “I guess I’m learning the world isn’t just black and white anymore. I can love you, and be mad as hell at you for taking these risks, too. That’s why I’m so worried about you.” Tears well up in my eyes, but I try to blink them back. “I can’t even stand the idea of something happening to you. I already lost my mom, and I know I didn’t know my dad, but he left me, too, and if you got arrested and ended up in some foreign prison being tortured or got shot by police running from a heist…” My voice breaks and a hot tear spills down my cheek.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He closes the distance between us in a heartbeat and wraps his arms around me. I let myself be held, sink into the strength of his embrace.
I whisper into his chest, “It’s just too much, Charles. I can’t do it, not like this. I’m sorry.”
I feel him take a deep breath. I brace myself, ready for the beginning of the end. God, this is going to hurt like hell.
Then St. Clair’s voice comes, strong and certain. “So I’ll stop.”
I sit up straight as an arrow. “What?”
St. Clair looks back at me, his gaze steady and warm. “You’re right—this life I lead doesn’t have a future. And I want one. With you.”
Wait. I can’t believe it. Is this for real?
I’m getting another flash of the ‘this-is-too-good-to-be-true-so-he-must-be-lying’ fear. I stare at him, try to see behind his charm. “Is this another line you think I want to hear?” I ask, afraid he’s just hoping and may not be able to follow through. “Can you really give up the thrill, the challenge, the…opportunity to right the wrongs?”
“I guess I’ll just have to find another way to get my thrills.” His eyes rake suggestively over my body, but I’m not so easily convinced by his teasing. This is serious.
“But what about helping people – I thought that was the reason you were doing all this in the first place.”
He leans in so his forehead rests against mine, our noses touching. “Grace. You are more important to me than any masterpiece or adrenaline rush could ever be. From now on, no more robberies. I’ll be a good, law-abiding citizen, I swear it. Please trust me.”
I want to jump for joy, but instead I reach up into his dark hair and pull his mouth to mine. Our kiss is hot and charged, the days of being apart now igniting between us with new passion. His tongue glides into my mouth, stroking against mine with demanding thrusts as his hands rove over my body. Then his mouth moves to my neck, his lips slipping down to my collar bone, kiss by kiss, an occasional flick of the tongue making me swoon.
My hands find the buttons on his shirt and I undo them, sliding my fingers under the fabric and across his skin, smooth and taut over hard muscles. He reaches up under my shirt and unclasps my bra, moving his hands around to the front to cup my breasts, teasing and stroking with agonizing pressure. I moan, and he slips my bra off, moving his hot, searching mouth to my hardening nipple. He rolls the tight peak against his tongue and slides his other hand down over the curve of my ass, squeezing with urgency that makes me ache.
I reach for the button on his pants and he laughs softly. “So I guess we’re okay?”
“Shut up and take your clothes off,” I say, my voice breathy with want. “We can talk more later.”
St. Clair laughs again, but slips out of his shirt first, and then his pants, and I watch with appreciation as his muscles are revealed like a sculpture being unveiled. I lean down to kiss the definition in his abs, slide a finger under the waistband of his boxers, stripping them down until I can see the tip of his cock. Mmm.
I take him in my mouth, sliding my tongue over his head until St. Clair is groaning. I take him deeper, suctioning tight with my lips, but before too long, he’s pulling me back, claiming my mouth again as he pins me down beneath him on the couch. His strong arms prop up his gorgeous body just inches above mine. Energy prickles between us, my skin aching to touch his, my whole body thrumming with the desire to close the distance.
I arch my back and he bows his head to kiss my breast, then he trails his mouth, his tongue down my belly, then licks the top of my panty line and nudges my panties down. I squirm, desperate for his touch. He groans, low and sexy, then slowly begins a torturous slide down my body, kissing every inch until his mouth is positioned right where I need it the most.
He licks up against me, his tongue trailing hot and slow toward my clit, where he pauses for a moment before taking it between his firm lips. His moan sends a shock of sweet vibrations straight through me.
I gasp, thrusting up against his mouth. He pulls away and licks again, then settles between my thighs, lapping his tongue over my clit and moving his hand to tease at my slick entrance. I pant, needing more, and God, he answers as he plunges two fingers deep inside me.
“Oh,” I pant, arching my back again. Charles, please. I want to scream, to beg him to fill me up, but he teases me by licking my clit so softly I feel like I’m going to explode with desire. Oh, Jesus Christ. I can feel my wetness spilling out in anticipation, and St. Clair’s lips are still brushing over me, the heat of his body hovering against my skin, his fingers probing, a little harder, a little faster, finding their rhythm, stroking deeper and sweeter…