The Sapphire Heist (A Jewel Novel Book 2)

by Lauren Blakely

  “We’ll keep our eyes peeled for him. And you’re seeing Eli tomorrow, right?”

  She nodded as a night breeze drifted by, swirling the hem of her skirt. “I am. I’ll see what I can find out. I have an idea for how to pull off the next phase.”

  On the walk back to the hotel, they plotted the next day. As they headed through the front doors of the hotel, he dropped a kiss to her cheek. “So much better to work with you than against you,” he whispered.

  “I can think of other things you can do against me, too,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

  He groaned, low and husky, his arm tightening around her shoulders as they moved through the crowds in the lobby. His hotel was bigger than hers and nicer, too, with a wide-open lobby, bar, and sleek floors. Music from a live band drifted from the busy bar and Steph glanced briefly at the throngs of people drinking, laughing, singing along.

  As they reached the elevator, she spotted a woman with jet-black hair, twisted in a bun, perched on a barstool. Familiarity tugged at her as Steph pushed the button, but focusing was hard when Jake’s hands were on her waist, his lips brushing soft kisses on her neck.

  “That woman . . . I think she’s . . .”

  Oh. His lips were right there on the shell of her ear. Her eyes floated closed.

  “What were you saying?” he whispered.

  “Looks familiar,” she said, her voice hazy from his touch. “I saw her at Isla’s house.”

  He cast a disinterested gaze in the direction of the bar, just as the elevator doors whisked open. She wasn’t the guy with the snake tattoo. He wasn’t worried.

  He held up his hands like a seesaw, moving each palm up and down. “Bar. Room. Bar. Room.”

  He tugged her into the elevator before the doors closed.

  The choice was made.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Sharing a hotel room could be awkward. Would your habits align? Would he be messy and you neat? Would he leave smelly socks on the air conditioner or play the TV too loud?

  None of those things had happened so far.

  But staying in the same space with a new lover was already fraught with peril during daylight. At night? Even odder. Darkness and a bed spelled surefire romance, but would the forced intimacy be too much to bear? Would they brush their teeth, wash their faces, and turn off the lights? Peck on the cheek, roll over, and go to sleep?

  Ah, who was she kidding?

  She’d be shocked if they went to bed for bed. The two of them had never been terribly good at keeping hands to themselves. In the past, though, they’d had excuses to erect stop signs.

  Tonight, in the same room, there were no more roadblocks.

  But rather than guess when the moment would begin or who would initiate, she took the bull by the horns once the door clicked shut behind them. Because she wanted him. She wanted to make the most of these three nights with him. She wanted to wring every last drop of passion from this fling.

  “I’m glad to be staying with you tonight,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, brushing her fingertips along his skin.

  He pretended to yawn, big and loud. “What did you say? I’m tired. I think I’m going to fall asleep.”

  “Oh no you’re not.” She reached for his shirt collar and gripped it, holding him close.

  “Why not?”

  “You were all frisky in the elevator, and I have plans for you.”

  “The last time you had plans for me, I wound up blindfolded. That your MO again?”

  “No, but you’re close,” she said, then turned around, walked to her suitcase, and rummaged through it to locate the wrap she’d used that afternoon. He’d wandered to the middle of the room, and she folded it over and placed it in his hands.

  He raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Do what you want to me with it,” she said softly. Nerves thrummed through her. She’d never had kinky sex, and while blindfolding wasn’t the height of wildness, she was eager to explore new terrain with Jake. She sensed he had a sexually adventurous side, that he’d try nearly anything.

  “You want me to blindfold you? So you can’t see what I’m doing to you?”

  “If you want,” she said, offering herself to him. “I trust you.”

  “You do?”

  He stepped closer and ran his finger along her cheek. It was his gesture. His signature touch. He always seemed to do that to connect with her. As if it signaled when moments shifted from mere carnality to something deeper.

  “I do.”

  He tossed the wrap behind him on the bed. In a flash, he tugged her dress over her head, then dropped it in a navy-and-white puddle on the floor.

  “You’re fast,” she said. “You must really want payback.”

  “I’m not going to blindfold you,” he said, then bent his head to her neck and pressed a hot kiss to her collarbone. She trembled, loving his kisses, seeking more of them. He blazed a path up the column of her throat, making her squirm in his arms. He ran his hands along the bare flesh of her arms, from her shoulders to her wrists to her waist. Traveling up her back, he unhooked her bra, letting the white silk fall to the ground.

  “You’re not?”

  He shook his head as he cupped her breasts in his big hands. She moaned. Goose bumps rose on her flesh as he kneaded them, running the pads of his thumbs over her hard nipples. She melted from his touch. Her whole body turned white-hot, and the craving intensified. Multiplied. “Nope. Not gonna use it to cover your eyes.”

  Other possibilities danced before her, and the prospects turned her on more. So did the anticipation. He dropped his mouth to one breast, drew in her nipple, and sucked gently.

  She murmured and sighed, her hands seeking the back of his head, her fingers finding his hair as she held him close and he kissed and licked her breast, sending her into a frenzy. She was ready for him to take her, to toss her on the bed and do anything.

  But he let go of her breast and raised an eyebrow, his eyes shining with mischief.

  She looked at him expectantly, but he said nothing. Instead, he wasted no time moving on to his own clothes. After stripping off his shirt, he backed up, his knees hitting the mattress. He flopped down on it, then scooted up to a pillow, propping himself on it. He tucked another pillow under his head, giving himself a view.

  Of her.

  Excitement rippled through her as he raked his gaze over her from head to toe. She was nearly naked, and on display for him. The bulge in his shorts grew bigger as he roamed his eyes along her frame from his spot on the bed.

  She ran her hand from her breasts down to her belly. “Like what you see?”

  “Very much,” he said roughly. “I’d like it more if you’d take off that last little item that’s in the way of my unobstructed view.”

  She dipped a thumb into the waistband of her panties, teasing, taking it slow. Lowering one side an inch. Then the other. Just a little farther now. Enough for a peekaboo of what he wanted. He sighed deeply in appreciation, then stroked his hard-on through his shorts. “Love what I see. Fucking love it. Look what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice husky as he touched himself.

  She bit her lip as heat raced through her. She was burning up just from looking at him on his bed like that. Aroused. He was so sexy all the time, but especially now, when he was nothing but lust and desire.

  The lights were dim, the sliding glass door was open, and the curtains blew gently in the breeze. The sound of waves lapping the shore was the sound track to this moment as she toyed with her underwear. His eyes blazed darkly, narrowing as he stared heavy-lidded at her impromptu strip show.

  “Take them off. All the way off,” he growled.

  She sashayed her hips back and forth once more, a final tease. Then, since he was running the show, she pushed her panties to her ankles and stepped out of them. “Fuck,” he rasped out as he blinked and stared. Just fucking stared. Practically eating her up with his hungry gaze. “Get over here.”

  She walked to the b
ed and crawled across the mattress to him on her hands and knees. He patted his chest. “Come closer. Climb on me. Sit on my face,” he said, his voice low and dirty, and her skin sizzled. Everywhere. She was flush with desire, thrilling at his commands. Something about this man hooked into her—it was physical but rapidly barreling down a path toward more. He made her laugh, he made her think, he challenged her, and he accepted no bullshit. He required only honesty in everything, and it was such a wondrous thing after the time she’d given to her ex to be with someone who craved truth. After Duke and Eli, she’d learned not to trust easily. But Jake was showing her new ways to trust.

  Including this kind of trust in bed. Shooting out an arm, he grabbed the wrap from the bed, then dangled it as she inched over him. He patted his shoulder with his other hand. “Higher now,” he said in a naughty tone. “I need you straddling me.”

  Her breath came hard and fast before she even reached his shoulders. He grabbed her hips and held her in place, kneeling her over his face.

  “Steph,” he said in the softest voice, but one that brooked no argument.

  “Yes?” she asked, swallowing thickly.

  He gripped her wrists in one hand and tugged them behind her back. “I don’t want to blindfold you. Know why?”

  “Why?” she asked, a pulse beating insistently between her legs. She needed his touch. Needed his tongue. Needed some kind of wild contact to quench her desire.

  “Because of your eyes,” he said as he gripped her wrists and wrapped the fabric around them.

  “What about them?”

  “I love looking at you when you come. When you’re close. When you’re getting there,” he said, and she gasped as a fresh wave of desire crashed into her. Like a wave slamming the shore. He wasn’t even touching her, and she ached with longing. An exquisite, insistent ache between her legs. She was going to go off like a rocket tonight, she was sure. As she straddled his face, she took the power position, yet he had all the control as he tightened the knot around her bound wrists, securing her hands behind her back.

  “I like it when you look at me, Jake,” she said in a feathery whisper.

  “That’s why blindfolding you would be a crime,” he said, then lowered her wetness to his mouth, and she moaned a staccato sound of pleasure. Because . . . holy fuck.

  His tongue felt so good.

  His talented tongue stroked a sizzling line across her sex. Then, he flicked her with the tip, and her quick breaths turned into pants. “Soooo good, so good.” She moaned, her eyes floating closed.

  As the world behind her lids turned dark, she wobbled for the briefest moment. Not much, maybe an inch. But the precariousness of the position hit her. She had nothing to hold on to. She was going to ride his face without reins. She couldn’t use her hands to brace against the wall. She opened her eyes. He was looking right at her.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered, holding her hips tight.

  She nodded, letting go, giving in.

  Another cry fell from her lips as he worked his tongue in a frenzied circle across her. Pleasure forked in her, blasting through every cell. Her belly tingled. Her skin burned. Her cheeks reddened from all this incomparable heat. Every inch of her was aflame. Even her toes were turned on. She went wild and crazy on his wicked tongue, his magic mouth, his stubbled chin. He was her launching pad to pleasure, and she was taking off.

  She could barely focus on one thing, but she was keenly aware that he never looked away. He kept his gaze on her face, her parted lips, her eyes.

  It no longer mattered that her hands were bound. Even as some primal instinct told her to slam her palms against the wall to hold on, she didn’t need to. Because he had her. He had her pleasure thoroughly mastered with his mouth, and that was all she needed to fly over the cliff. Her orgasm flooded his lips as she came hard on his face.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she shouted, then chased it with a chorus of moans and groans. She couldn’t stop trembling. Couldn’t stop coming. She squeezed her eyes shut. Keeping them open was too hard, too intense. She rode out the waves as the aftershocks of a mind-blowing climax vibrated in her bones.

  Soon, he lifted her off him, untied her wrists, placed her on her back, and raised her arms over her head. Then retied them. “Stay like that,” he told her.

  Like she was going anywhere else.

  He shucked off his shorts and briefs, his erection slapping his belly. He rolled on a condom, his shaft aching to be inside her. She was so beautiful, her hair fanning out on the bed, her skin flushed, her eyes glossy with pleasure.

  She radiated sexiness.

  “Spread your legs for me,” he said.

  As she parted her legs, he nearly came right there. The sight of her aroused like this stoked the flames inside him. He wanted more of her pleasure. He loved driving her wild. He savored hearing her noises. She was so free in bed, and that was what he wanted. A lover who had no inhibitions, who trusted, who took and who gave, and who opened herself up.

  Her.

  He wanted her.

  He positioned himself at her entrance, rubbed the head against her, and eased inside.

  “Jesus,” he said as he sank into her.

  She clenched around him, arching her back.

  Sparks tore through him from the hot feel of her. His blood was on fire. His lust was a force of nature and it overwhelmed him with its intensity, rippling through his blood and bones. She felt amazing, and she looked stunning with her arms bound above her head, her back bowed, her red lips falling open in an O. He lowered himself to his elbows, bringing his chest to hers. Then he moved inside her, building a slow, steady rhythm. He could come in seconds if he went hard and fast, but he wanted this time to last. Wanted to experience every single rapturous moment of being inside her. Especially when she was already blissed out. Warm and pliant, she had that buzzed, sex-drunk look in her blue eyes.

  “You look so beautiful,” he rasped out.

  “So do you.”

  He swiveled his hips and pushed into her. She answered him by wrapping her legs tightly around his ass, her heels digging in to pull him deeper.

  Yeah, that’s what he wanted. To bury himself inside her. To reach the magic spot in her. She rocked with him, circling her hips, her lips falling open and her breath erratic. Her wild sounds and her sexy cries that rose higher and higher told him he could do it again. He could take her to the edge one more time. They had that kind of chemistry, that kind of heat. He rose up on his knees, grasped her rear, and pulled her closer, finding a deeper angle.

  One that sent pleasure crackling down his spine. Like he’d been ignited.

  She writhed.

  “Oh God,” she cried, and that was enough for him to know she was on her way. But he wanted to be closer. He wanted her arms around him as he came. Her nails digging into him. Her sweet, lush body as close as she could be. In a blur, he quickly unknotted her wrists as he fucked her. “Need your arms around me,” he muttered, pressing his chest to hers.

  In seconds, she was free, and she flung her arms around his back. “Yeah, like that,” he said, and his throat was dry, and his climax was looming around the corner. Ready to work its way through his body. To tear through him in a storm of lust.

  She curled her fingers into his shoulders and gripped her thighs tight to his ass.

  He drove into her and he was there, and she was there, moaning and writhing and finding another release beneath him as he came inside the woman he was crazy for.

  He held her in his arms, planting kisses on her neck, her hair, her shoulders. He was sure now. He was certain. He didn’t want this affair with her to end. He wanted it to go on and on. Like they were a couple. Like Marie had said. Because they were so damn good together.

  As she fell asleep in his arms, the stars winking through the windows, this moment felt like it had the potential to be endless. Like it could stretch on and on into this pure connection with another person.

  The trouble was, he couldn’t sleep. So
mething nagged at him. Or really, two things. Two moments from tonight. Once, at the restaurant when he should have focused harder on the sharp profile at the edge of the crowd. Then, here at the hotel, when he should have checked out the woman in the lobby. He hadn’t even bothered to address Steph’s concern.

  He’d been solely interested in getting her in bed.

  He stroked his hand along her hair, wishing, hoping that these feelings for her weren’t threatening his focus on work.

  He’d once thought getting involved with a woman on a job meant he’d be crossed. But what if it meant he’d lose his edge?

  As he dragged his fingers through her soft strands, he promised himself that he’d do better tomorrow.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Showtime.

  She walked along the block to Eli’s club at eleven fifteen the next morning. Today, she was the gun and she was the sniper.

  Though truth be told, there was no need for a weapon, except the tool she had in her purse, slung on her shoulder. No watchman required, either.

  That was one of the benefits of being the inside woman on a job. She didn’t need someone to stand guard for her. She could stand as her own lookout. Her position as the stepdaughter was all she required to surprise Eli. Their scheduled lunch wasn’t for another forty-five minutes, which meant she’d likely be able to find him now at one of his favorite spots. He’d told her at their first brunch that he was at Sapphire most days.

  Her green shades covered her eyes, blocking out the bright sun. Not a cloud dared appear in the perfect crystal-blue sky. No wonder Eli had chosen the Cayman Islands for his new life. This land was the definition of paradise, and the balmy air caressed her bare skin as the island breezes drifted by. Funny how the weather forecast on her app had predicted today would be a scorcher, but it was wrong—today was another day in paradise. She wore a pink sundress, flip-flop sandals with a shell design on the straps, and a pair of delicate mermaid earrings—quirky but pretty. Jake’s hotel wasn’t far away, so she’d chosen to walk, rather than drive, to the club.