A Thief's Heart

by A Caprice

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and now she wanted to go bare. He cupped her chin, turning her to face him. “You trust me?”

  She rolled her hips, the edges of her outer lips sliding over his cock. “Shouldn’t I?”

  He groaned. No, she damn well shouldn’t. He was a thief, only looking out for himself.

  Except…

  He grabbed her luscious ass and guided her until the tip of his cock nestled at her entrance.

  …with her body, she could have full faith in him. He would never do anything to hurt it, to hurt her.

  She slowly lowered herself, her eyelids sliding shut at the same time. She raised her hips then sank down a little further. Her pussy sucked at him, enclosing him in a heavenly grip.

  He sighed, and let the sensations wash over him. She took another inch into her body, took him another inch closer to nirvana. A log popped in the fireplace behind her.

  Up and down she undulated, never fully seating herself. Never increasing her pace.

  “Amanda…” The pleasure he’d had from her easy movements, the relaxation he’d felt in letting her take charge, changed. Went dark with need. “Faster.”

  The minx ignored him. She arched her back in a stretch and sighed, like she had all the fucking time in the world.

  He raised his hips, but she rose onto her knees, keeping the depth of the penetration in her control.

  His cock wept, precum coating her walls, easing his path even more. He gritted his teeth. “Amanda, cara, this is no time to tease.”

  But did she listen to his polite entreaty? No. The damn woman winked at him—winked!—and stopped moving up and down altogether. She swiveled her hips and squeezed her pussy around the few inches of him that were lucky enough to be inside of her.

  With her hands bound behind her, Amanda’s breasts were thrust out in invitation. Her back was arched and her thighs quavered. She should have looked compliant, tied up as she was and in his power. Instead, she ruled him.

  He stared at where their bodies connected. At his darkened cock, pulsing in need before it disappeared into her cunt.

  He tried to relax his shoulders, but they remained rock hard. His breathing came in short bursts.

  She was a goddess.

  She was going to kill him.

  A smug smile curved her lips, and Gio snapped.

  With a growl, he grabbed her hips, yanking her down the same time he thrust up, taking her fully.

  She shuddered in his arms. “Gio, oh God, it’s so much…too much…”

  “Shh.” He licked up her neck. He rubbed her back until he felt her body relax against his. He rolled his hips and she moaned softly. “That’s it. Take all of me.”

  Her head fell back as he thrust into her again. Her breasts brushed against Gio’s chest with every stroke.

  His hands under her thighs, Gio lifted Amanda higher on the next stroke, so just the broad tip of him remained within her. He lowered his head and took a puckered nipple between his teeth. When she sank back down on him, he bit down more firmly, refusing to release his prize.

  Her back arched sharply and an animalistic keening escaped her lips before her nipple finally slipped through his teeth. She tasted so good, so right. This woman in his arms accepted him, even his bad parts, and knowing this, his heart beat to an unfamiliar rhythm.

  She thrashed like a wild thing, her hips pounding up and down his length, her raven hair swinging. Gio fought for his control, not wanting this to end. He grabbed her, trying to steady her plunging hips. One of her hands escaped his belt and she clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. “Gio, please, I need…”

  He trailed a hand around her hip to her pouting clit. He rubbed his finger up and down once. Twice. And that was it. She shattered around him. Her wet sheath pulsed so tightly around his cock it almost hurt. As her body sank limply against his, he lifted and thrust into her soft body over and over until the tension exploded out of him.

  They half sat, half lay draped on the couch, their limbs tangled, their bodies covered in sweat. He felt the evidence of their pleasure trickle down his thigh. Her chest pressed against his, heaving with exertion, her breathing slowing as she came down from her orgasm.

  A smile crooked his lips. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

  When their heartbeats slowed, she eased herself off him.

  Loath to stop touching her, he settled himself lengthwise on the couch, drawing her back to his front, her head resting on his biceps. The fire warmed her front and he warmed her back.

  She blew out a sigh. “I guess we should talk now.”

  His lips quirked up. “The post-coital rehash?” He circled her belly button with the tip of his finger. “You were so magnificent, so,” he licked her neck, “delicious that I—”

  “Not that kind of talk, you idiot.” She slapped at his hand. “The kind of talk where you tell me why you stole the decoder and what we’re going to do about it.”

  “Oh, that kind of talk. Not nearly so interesting.” He paused for a moment. She’d trusted him. She hadn’t turned him in. She deserved to know the truth. He swallowed. He only hoped it didn’t send her running. “It goes back to World War Two.”

  Amanda tilted her head to look at him, her eyebrows drawn together. “What does?”

  “The reason I needed the decoder. My grandfather was a member of the Italian resistance. After Mussolini came to power and then joined the Axis, a counter-resistance was formed. My grandfather was a leader in the movement.”

  Amanda twisted on the couch so she lay facing him. “And?”

  “He was executed by the rebels in ’forty-four for treason to the cause. They suspected him of being a double-agent, of secretly working for the fascists.”

  “They just suspected him? They had no proof?”

  He rubbed away the frown lines on her forehead. “They thought they had sufficient proof, but there was no trial. The resistance wasn’t a formal entity with a legal system, and it was during a time of war. The executions were quickly meted out.” He looked into the flames. “My father was only one year old when Grandfather was killed, but he grew up with stories from his mother about what a great man his father was. That he had been wrongly executed and had really been a staunch supporter of the Allied cause.”

  “What does this have to do with the decoder?”

  “The decoder was donated to your organization in the nineteen-eighties. Before that, it was owned by a wealthy Italian family with ties to the resistance. Members of the resistance would send messages in code, and one of those codes was—”

  “The Newton encryption,” Amanda finished for him. “That decoder has sure changed hands a lot.”

  “My father and I did not…get along well. Perhaps it was because he had me when he was older, when the bitterness had already strangled him.” Gio swallowed past the lump in his throat. “He was weak and lacked integrity. But I grew up hearing that my grandfather was unfairly executed, that he wasn’t a traitor. I wanted to believe that one man in the d’Onofrio family had honor. The proof was supposed to be in a coded letter from my grandfather to one of his compatriots. He was arrested and executed before it was sent, and my grandmother held on to it. And now I have it.”

  “And?” Amanda looked at him impatiently. “Well, what does the letter say?”

  “I have not had time to decode it yet.”

  Her jaw dropped. She rose up on an elbow and looked down at him. “Do you mean to tell me that after waiting your whole life to read one letter, after risking your life to steal a decoder, you couldn’t find one moment to read the darned thing since I told you how to work the device?” She shook her head in disgust and made to rise from the couch. “Let’s get cracking.”

  He pulled her back down. His hand trailed down her smooth skin, gripping the back of her thigh and pulling her leg over his. “These past few days, it just has not seemed so important.” He kissed the hollow of her throat then smiled when h
er pulse fluttered wildly beneath his lips. “In fact, there is something much more urgent at the moment that I want to do.”

  Gio rolled, pulling Amanda beneath him. He nibbled at her ear. “Tomorrow is soon enough.” His tongue licked around the shell. “Tomorrow we can get back to work.” Her thighs spread in invitation and Gio sank once again into her liquid heat. “Maybe.”

  Chapter Seven

  The early morning sunlight broke through the leaves of a swaying tree, throwing dancing patterns of light and dark across Gio’s bare back. His olive skin was smooth and flawless, and Amanda couldn’t help but tug the sheet lower, enjoying the view.

  He rolled over, the sheet tangling at his hips. “Good morning.” He yawned. “Sleep well?”

  She flushed lightly. “I would have slept better if someone hadn’t kept waking me up.”

  He grinned. “Sleep is overrated.” He drew his finger lazily along her collarbone then started lower.

  Amanda rolled the other way and rose from the bed. “Unh uh. Time to rise and shine. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

  He sighed dramatically. “The sacrifices one must make.” Rolling to his feet, he strode to his closet and pulled out clothes for the day, tossing her another pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

  Amanda put on the shirt then headed for the door. “I think I’ll put on the clothes I was wearing yesterday. They’re down in your living room, I think.”

  He paused, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “I remember taking off your blouse and tossing it behind the couch.” He stalked toward her. “Perhaps I should help you find the—”

  “I can find it,” Amanda said and scurried from the room. The lure of Gio was too strong. One touch from him and she would end up spending the day in his bed.

  As tempting as that was, she needed to discover who had tried to kill her, and she wanted to help Gio decode his grandfather’s letter. She took a quick shower in the guest room then went to find her clothes. After dressing, she found Gio in the kitchen, a pot of coffee percolating away under his watchful gaze.

  “What would you like for breakfast?” he asked. “Omelet, waffles, some fresh fruit?”

  “Please don’t tell me that you can cook too. Nobody is this perfect.”

  He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “Remember, I do steal things as well.”

  Amanda brightened. “That’s true. That definitely helps balance out your perfection scale. Oh, and an omelet, please.”

  “You don’t have to sound so happy about my faults,” he said, cracking eggs into a bowl with one hand.

  She eyed his work. Not one bit of eggshell marred the froth he whipped up. No stray bits of yolk dotted his shirt. She sighed. “One or two more flaws wouldn’t go amiss.” She sat down at the counter and pulled a notebook from her purse. She started a list but it was short. Just one name.

  “What are you writing?” The frying pan sizzled when he dropped in a pat of butter.

  “A list of suspects who may have tried to kill me. Now that I know the theft of the decoder was unrelated, that should narrow things down a bit.” She frowned. “The trouble is, I have no idea why anyone would want me dead. I’m fairly inoffensive.” She looked up and saw that Gio’s jaw was clenched. “What?”

  “You speak so casually of your attempted murder. I do not feel so dispassionate about it.” He plated an omelet and placed it in front of her then went to work on his own.

  Her heart melted as fast as the butter in his pan. She’d wondered half a dozen times if she’d made a mistake not turning him in. His concern set her at ease.

  He might be a thief, but he was a good-hearted one. Deserving of her trust. “Believe me, I’m freaked out about it too. But panicking won’t help. And I like lists. I like order.” Order was so rare in her personal life, but she relished it in her archives. Everything had its place, even her.

  He nodded. “Well then, let’s figure this out. If you haven’t injured someone personally so that they would want you dead, it is probably related to your job. What have you been working on?”

  “Nothing to kill over. I am, or was,” she looked at him sternly, “using the decoder to read some letters written between the founders of ARC.”

  “Well, maybe one of them—”

  “They’re both dead,” Amanda interrupted. “ARC may have only obtained a formal charter this past year, but we’ve been informally organized for a couple hundred years. Kind of like a…a secret society.” She stared at Gio and chewed her bottom lip.

  He chuckled. “What fun. So, what are these letters about? Nobody knows better than me that old secrets can be very important.”

  “No secrets. These guys were just having fun playing with their new toy. Frankly, they were obnoxious. Always trying to one up the other. The last letter I read, Mr. Franklin was bragging about a Caravaggio he had just bought that was said to have hidden mystical symbols painted on the canvas. And, oh, what a shame it was that Mr. Sampson had that investment loss, so he couldn’t afford such a painting at the time. The only redeeming quality about these men was that they donated all of their possessions to ARC upon their deaths.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So, who is on your list?”

  Amanda swallowed a bite of fluffy egg and rich gruyere cheese. She smothered a moan. His cooking was almost as good as his lovemaking. Almost. “Right now only Agent McGovern is on it.”

  He sat next to her with his own plate. “Why?”

  “Why is he on the list or why is he the only one?” A bit of omelet fell off her fork onto her lap. She picked it up and put it on the edge of her plate then licked her fingers.

  “Amanda.” He handed her a napkin and shook his head. “And I meant, why is Agent McGovern on your list?”

  “Because he was down in the archives when the lights went out.”

  “That’s it? That is your only reason?” Gio raised his eyebrow and she nodded. “I admit he seems like an obnoxious buffoon, but that is hardly reason for suspicion.”

  She fiddled with her fork. “Well…there might be one more reason.”

  His eyes went flat. “You used to sleep together.”

  “What? No!”

  His face relaxed. “What is the reason then?”

  “It’s about the explosion. How it happened. McGovern has certain…skills that could have caused the blast.”

  “He is a bomb maker?” He drew his eyebrows together. “I thought your theory was that someone tampered with your stove and then shot an electric rifle into your kitchen.”

  “The ray gun was your idea. I don’t think the Joker was trying to kill me.” She stared down at her empty plate.

  “How else would a bolt of electricity shoot into your kitchen?” he asked. She remained silent. “Amanda?”

  “There’s something I should tell you about myself. About ARC.” Her heart pounded. Was she having a heart attack? No, too young. She looked him in the eye then looked away. “We’re not…normal.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You do?” Her heart beat faster.

  “Not many organizations research the paranormal.” He whistled the opening bars to The Twilight Zone.

  She sighed, her shoulders slumping. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. Just like everyone else, Gio didn’t know about the supernatural. Would he believe her? “That’s not quite what I meant.” Her cell phone rang, and she frowned at the interruption.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Sullivan, will you be gracing us with your presence at the office today?”

  “Monsieur Chirac.” Amanda’s lips twisted in disgust. “I don’t know yet. I am still feeling a little—”

  “I don’t care about your perceived ailments. I care about you getting the work done that we pay you for.”

  Gio mouthed “Who is it?” at Amanda, but she merely shook her head. “As you know, my latest project is at a standstill until—”

  “We find the decoder you lost. Yes,
I know.” His voice dripped with scorn. “But there are other projects that need to be completed.”

  She dug her fingernails into her palm. She would not tell her boss off. She liked her job, she chanted in her head. She would not—

  “I need you in the sub-basement, cataloging items we received three to five years ago. Make note of what was received as donations and what we purchased. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “Of course, but why—”

  “It’s this damn audit. The taxing authority wants to stick their nose into everything.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m emailing you our inventory lists. Make sure the list and the inventory match.” He ended the call before she could answer.

  Amanda resisted the urge to chuck her phone at the nearest wall. She wished her talent was something useful at this moment, like giving someone severe gastritis from miles away. She wondered what talent dear old “Diesel” had. The ability to piss people off in two seconds flat?

  “What was that about? Your face does not look happy.” Gio nudged her knee with his.

  “One of the directors of ARC. He wants me to come in and do some inventory.” Her phone beeped with an incoming email. “He’s a pompous windbag.” She read through the email he had sent her as Gio cleaned their plates.

  Still looking at her phone, Amanda said, “Thanks. You cooked; I should clean. If you just leave them in the sink…”

  “Oh, no. I have seen what happens when you wash dishes. Although I wouldn’t mind getting you wet again.”

  Amanda barely registered his double entendre. Her brow furrowed as she checked the email again.

  “Amanda?” He tipped her chin up so she looked at him.

  “Hmm?”

  “Much as I adore seeing you nibble on that delectable bottom lip of yours,” his finger rubbed along said lip, “tell me what has distracted you.”

  “It’s this email. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Gio looked at her phone. “This is from your director?” At her nod, he said, “It is an inventory. What doesn’t make sense?”

  She pointed to the small text. “Well, like that painting by Turner. This states that we received it four years ago. But I know it was donated to us at least eight years ago. And there should be a record of The Mystical Nativity by Botticelli. I knew the woman who died and left it to us three years ago.”