by Mia Faith
He put his arm along the back of the couch, twisting at the waist so that he was looking at her. He grinned. “Yeah. Sometimes. It was easier then. Simpler. It was a place of farmers and ranchers and small town people doing small town things. Everyone knew everyone and you never had to feel weird about anything, because everyone’s known you since diapers.”
Shelly laughed. “Wow. It sounds… like no one can keep a secret.”
He shrugged and she noticed again his broad shoulders. They were muscled, but not bulky. Instead, they made him look strong but more sleek and sensual. Like a runner or a swimmer with that lean, but incredibly fit body. “Yeah, that’s one way to look at it. You wouldn’t want a life like that?”
“I think about it sometimes. A simpler life. But maybe I’m just not that kind of girl.”
He leaned a little closer towards her. She noticed that they’d both put down their wine glasses and they were close enough that their thighs were touching. “Maybe you could be if you wanted to be. If you found the right situation. The right guy.”
She licked her lips as he leaned even closer. His lips were a centimeter from hers and she found herself desperate to get lost in them. Please. “And who might this right guy be?”
He grinned at her, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he covered her mouth with his in a slow, soft kiss. She melted. How long had it been since she’d been properly kissed? It started out slow, their lips tentatively touching.
But it wasn’t enough.
Shelly had gone too long without the touch of a man and now she was desperate for it, drowning without it. Her hands wound up into his hair, pulling him closer to her. His went to her waist as her lips parted to intensify the kiss. He took the invitation, his tongue snaking into her mouth to duel with hers. She moaned, her body suddenly alight as endorphins flooded her system.
Yes, I need this.
Her hands raked through his thick hair, pulling him ever closer, trying to remove all the space between them. Deuce seemed to be on the same page, because his hands were pulling her waist closer to him, holding her body against his. When she felt his hand slip beneath her shirt to find bare skin, she nearly lost her mind.
God, that feels good.
Too good. Way too good. She needed a break. Some perspective. Breaking the kiss, she pulled away from him. “Wait. Wait. I… I need a minute.”
She was panting heavily, but she was pleased to see that he was, too. His eyes had darkened from lust and for a second it looked like he was going to try and kiss her again, but instead he nodded. “Yeah. Alright.”
Pulling away from him, her body reluctant, but her mind insisting, she got up from the couch. She adjusted her clothing, her flesh still feeling hot from their brief make-out session. “Do you want more wine?” she blurted, needing an excuse to step out of the room for a moment.
Deuce smiled at her and nodded. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great.”
“Great.”
She grabbed the glasses and went back into the kitchen. She put them on the counter and grabbed the bottle from earlier, but instead of pouring, she leaned against the counter. She took a moment to just breathe. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself. “You are smart and pretty and he is into you. All of this is good.”
“This is a lovely Picasso. Original?” She was surprised to hear Deuce call from the couch.
He knows Picasso? She was impressed. “Yeah. A present from my father who always wanted me to be on the art end of museums, you know?”
“Hm,” she barely heard him hum.
“My father was an art dealer in his heyday, though he’s since retired. Every now and then he’ll do consulting, but not really deal in the rare works anymore. Thank god. He used to go on and on about them when I was a kid.” Grabbing the wine glasses, Shelly gave a quick laugh as she headed towards the couch again. “Kind of like I’m doing right now.”
She froze once she entered the living room. The couch was empty with Deuce nowhere in sight. But the reason that her hands suddenly released the two wine glasses and let them crash to the floor at her feet was because her Picasso, the gift from her father, was missing. In its place was a notecard on heavy white stock. It had basic, curling black script on it that had only one word.
“Raincheck?”
She’d been robbed by none other than the Maitre.
CHAPTER SIX
If that son of a bitch thought that Shelly was just going to lie down and take this, he had another thing coming.
The next day at work, Shelly found herself on the phone again, but this time it was on her own free will. “Yes, I need one of your best,” she spoke into her cell as she logged into her Hartness System. From the comfort of her personal laptop computer, she was able to connect with her system from any location. There were a few things that were available only to the on-site head of security and the curator, but most of the data she could access. It was the only way to ensure all of the systems in place learned from each other’s encounters, that way they could prevent future break-ins through plotting and extrapolation.
“That’ll be Kyle, but you won’t get him until later today.”
“That’s fine. Whenever he’s available. I just need to make sure that this comes out accurate.”
The man on the other end sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Look, we do our best, but keep in mind that the mind isn’t the most accurate recorder and you need to be very clear when speaking to him.”
“I understand. What time?”
There was some shuffling of papers in the background, then, “Not ‘til four. You good with that?”
“Fine, good. Perfect. Schedule me. Should I come down there or—?”
“He’ll meet you,” the man interrupted. “Expect him just before four so that he can set up. Make sure you set time aside so he can do his job.”
“Perfect. Thank you.” Shelly hung up then feeling like she was finally going somewhere.
Last night, she’d been furious. It hurt her feelings that her father’s gift had been stolen, but it insulted her intelligence that Deuce—aka the Maitre—was able to just slip right beneath her nose with such perfect ease. It made her angry. Her feelings were one thing. They’d been bruised and battered before and even her hurt pride at being seduced and used didn’t reach the level of anger caused by being made the fool. Something that had been happening a lot lately.
But she finally had something to go on. Something no one else had. She knew what he looked like. Which was why Shelly was trying to get ahold of a sketch artist. If she could get his likeness on paper, then she could give it to the police. And her own people. She could catch the Maitre and…
“And it still wouldn’t fix what’s wrong with my system,” she muttered to herself.
Which was why she was still pouring over all of the data on the Hartness System and the recent break-ins—two to date, at different locations. That was not good for a system advertised as unbreakable and infallible.
A knock at the door caused her to look up. “Come in.”
It was Greg who pushed open the door, poking his head inside. “Hey, boss. You’ve got reporters again today. You want me to tell them to beat it?”
She rolled her eyes. “Damn them. Yes, please. Tell them that the only quote they’ll get from us is no comment.”
Greg nodded, then began to head out again, but Shelly stopped him.
“Wait. I’m going to send all calls directly to voicemail, so if you need to get ahold of me, come to my office or call Melissa.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“And I don’t want any visitors unless it’s an emergency.”
Greg gave a final nod, then headed out, closing the door behind him. Letting out a sigh, Shelly sat back in her chair and leaned back, swiveling around to look out the window towards the city below. Except that when she looked over at the window, instead of seeing outside, she saw a well-defined man with thick hair that was slicked back wearing black jeans and a button down white shirt. He even had cowboy bo
ots on.
“You bastard!” she hissed, reaching for the phone, but when she picked it up, there was only a dial tone. She slammed it down and fumbled around for her cell.
“Whoa, whoa, easy now, honey,” he drawled. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“No, you’re just here to ruin my reputation and steal my stuff!” She got her phone out of her pocket, but he was across the room in two strides, standing in front of her in seconds. He grabbed her phone out of her hand and held it out of reach.
She stumbled backwards, away from him. “Bastard! Give me my phone back!”
He shook his head. “No. At least, not until you let me explain myself.”
“Explain yourself? You broke into my hotel! Hacked my security systems! Pretended to be my security guard! And then you stole my painting!”
He winced. “Okay, I know how bad this looks, but honey, I promise I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Sometimes I just can’t help what I do.”
Narrowing her eyes at him, she folded her arms across her chest. “Right. You just like pretty things, right?”
A languid smile spread across his lips as his eyes made a slow line over her body before returning to her face. “Exactly.”
Her face flushed and despite being furious, her body appreciated the attention. The way he was looking at her… that’s how she always wanted to be looked at. Like she was gorgeous. Like he couldn’t stop staring. Like she was exactly what he wanted.
She shook her head to try to keep her thoughts focused on the issue at hand. “Don’t give me that crap.”
He stepped to the side suddenly, motioning with his arm towards the window behind him. She took her eyes off of him for half a second to see where he was gesturing—and saw the painting. The Picasso that her father had given her was leaning against the wall just below the window.
Some of her anger slipped away.
“I apologize for taking it,” he told her and she thought he sounded sincere. “Like I said, sometimes I just can’t help myself. But I never meant to make you look stupid—especially when I know you’re such a brilliant woman.”
She let out a laugh before she could stop herself. “If I’m so brilliant, how have you gotten past my systems? Twice.”
He shrugged. “You think one way, I think the other. Doesn’t make either one of us smarter than the other.”
She pursed her lips together. Her eyes darted to the phone, but she made no attempts to try and reach it. And since the landline seemed out of service—no doubt the result of the man in front of her—she didn’t have a lot of options.
“What are you doing here?”
He thought for a moment, studying her carefully. After a moment, he stepped closer to her. She shifted back, but he wasn’t going to let her get away so easily. He stepped closer again; she stepped back. They did this once more until the backs of her legs hit the desk and there was really nowhere left to go. But he came closer again and now they had only inches between them.
“I couldn’t stay away,” the Maitre answered finally. “There’s something between us, Shelly. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too.”
Shelly opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn’t. She did feel something, too, and it wasn’t the anger she wanted to be feeling.
His hand went to her waist and tugged. If she was going to resist, this was the time to do it. But she didn’t. Instead, she let herself be pulled closer to him, her body pressing against his solid, muscular one. When he leaned forward, she let him press his lips to hers, her eyes flickering closed almost immediately.
His hands caressed her body, feeling along her womanly curves eagerly. His kisses were like fire and his tongue tasted like mint as it explored her mouth. When they broke the kiss, his lips lingered against her skin. He trailed hot kisses along her cheek and down the column of her neck. Shelly found herself reaching, tipping her head back to expose more of her neck to his ministrations.
“You’re lovely,” he murmured against her skin.
She put her hands on the desk behind her to balance herself as he continued to kiss and touch her. Some part of her acknowledged that all of this was crazy. He was the Maitre! But the rest of her was pushing those thoughts aside, letting her slip down into the pleasure that he was causing within her.
When his hands reached for her blouse and popped open the first button, they both paused. He looked up into her eyes and she held his gaze. Within it, she found a silent question—do you want to do this?
She surprised both of them with her single word answer: “Yes.”
He went through the buttons quickly, popping them open to expose her bra-encased breasts beneath. He hummed appreciatively as he continued down. Untucking the shirt from her pencil skirt, he finally got the last of the buttons undone. He shoved them down her shoulders and halfway down her arms, leaving the fabric bunched around her wrists. He kissed her then, starting at her collarbone and moving to the swell of her breasts.
Shelly moaned in appreciation. His kisses were like fire, leaving trails of pleasure along her skin as he moved down towards her navel. His tongue dipped into her bellybutton, then he kissed each of her hip bones.
“Oh, yes,” she murmured, her hands leaving the back of her desk to slip into his hair.
When he reached her skirt, he let his hands slide around her hips, moving past them to the small of her back where he found the zipper. Smiling up at her with full lips and dark eyes, he tugged the zipper down, loosening her skirt. When he pulled on it, she wiggled her body to help him pull it down. When she was left in just her panties and bra, he stood again.
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured before capturing her mouth again.
Feeling as though they weren’t exactly on equal footing, her hands went to his waist and found the hem of his shirt. They slipped beneath the fabric to find warm, soft skin encasing hard muscles. She felt them flex beneath her touch as she trailed her fingers up towards his chest, dragging the shirt with it.
“I should undo the buttons,” he said, breaking the kiss.
She nodded and they both went to work on undoing his buttons. When they were all done, leaving his shirt open, she let her hands explore his well-toned flesh. He was muscular and gorgeous.
He jerked his shirt off then and began to undo his pants. She felt a spark of nervousness—it had been a little bit since she’d been laid—but not enough to make her stop this. She wanted it and in that moment, she didn’t care that this was the Maitre. She wanted him.
He undid his slacks and she found herself wiggling out of her panties, moisture collecting at the apex of her thighs.
When his pants slipped to the floor, her eyes widened. He was hard, his length engorged and pulsing. Pulling her back to him, he put his hands on her hips and lifted. She settled on the very edge of the desk and spread her legs open so that he could settle between them. Their eyes met, gazes locked in anticipation and desire as he positioned himself at her entrance.
Then he plunged inside. She tilted her head back and let out a cry, then tried to remember that she was in her office—there were people outside who might hear them. So she bit her lower lip to keep her cries contained.
He held her hips tightly to keep her steady as he began to move. He pulled back, his length slipping from her, only so that he could dive in once again. She made a mewling sound, trying to hold back her moans.
He started to find his rhythm, his movements at first slow, but quickly speeding up in urgent thrusts. She clutched at his shoulders, holding herself to him, rocking her hips in an effort to meet him.
Her whole body felt like it was engulfed in flames of pleasure and need. This was what had been missing in her life. She just hadn’t realized it.
He murmured sweet nothings to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how perfect, how smart. He told her that she was lovely and everything he could possibly want. His words continued in a steady stream, matching his thrusts, and she basked in his compliments.
“Yes, yes,” she
found herself murmuring, unable to help it.
She felt her climax coming. The pleasure was building up inside of her like water against a damn that just couldn’t hold it. As he pushed inside of her, she felt that damn crack and finally explode, pleasure washing over her. She would have cried out if he hadn’t thought to pull her in for a passionate kiss, swallowing her sounds of ecstasy.
They continued to kiss as his movements became erratic until finally he plunged within her one last time and released himself.
After that, they slumped together against her desk, both breathing heavily, trying to catching their breaths.
“That was…” Shelly began, shaking her head a little.
“Amazing,” the Maitre finished for her.
They stayed like that for several long moments, but eventually, they had to get dressed again. If anyone found them together, it might be a little difficult to explain. Though Shelly admitted to herself that at least no one knew who the man beside her was.
They dressed, Shelly zipping up her skirt and tucking her shirt back in as the Maitre did his buttons again.
She frowned, considering him. “What exactly should I call you? I have to assume Deuce is an alias.”
He grinned at her, offering a wink. “Colin. Call me Colin.”
“Assuming that’s your real name, isn’t it a risk to tell me it?”
He lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. He was dressed now, but had left the top few buttons of his shirt undone. It made him look even sexier in Shelly’s eyes. “I’m not worried about it. Like I said, we’ve got a connection. You won’t turn me in.”
He leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on her lips.
Though she wanted to prove him wrong, just because she didn’t like to be told what she could and couldn’t do, in the end, he was right. She wouldn’t turn him in. She wasn’t sure what all this was—other than a huge mess—but he was right about the connection. She felt it and she liked it.
“You’d better go,” she murmured.
He nodded. “You’re right. But I’ll see you again.”