She nodded. “Of course. If you want, I can do a meeting. I’ll do whatever it takes so we can break out on our own.”
Hungry for her, he grabbed her hips and tugged her close as he crushed his mouth to hers. Soon they would be able to start their own lives, start their own crew. He would probably still work with his brothers on occasion, but he wanted to break out on his own. At thirty-five, he’d been doing this far too long with them. They were both nearly ten years older than him and had pulled him in when he’d been just fourteen for jobs.
Being with Delilah these past six months had shown him that he wanted his space. And he and Delilah worked well as a team—if she could just curb her violent impulses. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted her to completely, because that was what made her so much fun and wild in bed. He had the scratch marks on his back to prove it.
She pulled back from him, her eyes dilated slightly. “Why do we have to wait seven days to sell the painting? You never told me.”
“My brothers want more interest in it, to get the buyers worked up and pull in the highest price.”
She rolled her eyes and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she turned away and headed toward the bed. Her ass swayed slightly, drawing his attention before she flopped down on it, rolled onto her back. “I think Noah is just a control freak. He likes to make you run around like a little puppy. All of us, really.” Another roll of her eyes.
Luka kept his mouth shut. His brother could be a control freak, but he was also smart. They’d done major jobs over the last twenty years and never gotten caught. That was all because of his brother’s foresight and planning. And…if Delilah hadn’t killed the curator’s wife, they wouldn’t have had to run with heat on them. They wouldn’t be under a cloud of suspicion.
He lifted a shoulder.
She pushed up on her elbows, her eyes bright with lust. “Look, I’m sorry. Your brother is smart. There’s no denying that. I just think you and I would work together so much better on our own. That’s all. I’m ready for it to just be you and me.” She opened her arms, motioning for him to join her on the bed.
Sighing, he did just that. Emotions were just high right now and he knew she was feeling cooped up. They were stuck in this warehouse until they could sell the painting and head back to France. They couldn’t even enjoy Miami, one of the few cities he liked on the East Coast.
Even though he could blend in, he didn’t like spending time in this country anymore. Not after getting a taste of Europe. And Delilah felt the same way—she was an expat. It was how they’d met.
She shoved at him, straddling him as she tugged off her crop top to reveal no bra. And if he was a betting man, once he got her jeans off, she wouldn’t have anything on underneath those either.
As she unbuttoned his jeans and dipped her head between his legs, he forgot to think about anything but her talented mouth for a very long time.
Chapter 8
Juan smiled politely at Carolina, the woman behind the counter of Angel’s bakery who worked here Monday through Friday. Her dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and though he knew from Angel she was in her late forties and had two grown kids, it was hard to believe.
Carolina smiled at him then glanced over her shoulder. “Angel, your man’s here.”
He definitely liked the sound of that. Angel’s man. Who he’d always wanted to be. Unfortunately those were Carolina’s words, not Angel’s. “Clearly I’m here for Angel, but I’d also like a latte and a couple of the banana muffins.” The woman nodded and he pulled his wallet out, withdrawing a bill.
Angel looked surprised to see him as she stepped out from the back. Her dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail too and she had on a pink and purple apron over her jeans and plain white T-shirt. None of it hid all her luscious curves—nothing could do that. “Hey, you. I thought you’d be working tonight,” she said as she rounded the countertop, an easy smile on her face. There was a trace of flour on her left cheek and he reached out, gently swiped it away. Damn, he loved the feel of her soft skin.
“The thing finished early.” He wasn’t sure what else to call it other than “the thing.” It wasn’t really work, not that he was getting paid for anyway. It had been fun though. Planting a tracker on some random vehicle without getting caught? He’d liked the adrenaline rush it had given him.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Thing?”
He noticed that her employee had left his drink and muffins by the counter and left his change alongside it. He appreciated the woman disappearing into the back so he could have semi-privacy with Angel. He tucked the change into the tip jar and leaned against the countertop. “Nash needed help with something sort of personal.”
That eyebrow stayed hiked as she watched him. “You’re being overly vague. Is that intentional?”
“Sort of. But not because I want to keep you in the dark. I can’t really talk about it. Not unless Nash says it’s okay—he’s helping a friend out.” Though it was clear Nash wanted more than friendship from Ivy. A whoooole lot more.
“Okay.” Angel’s tone was light but something shuttered in her gaze in that moment and he didn’t like it. “I’ve got to start closing things down. We stayed open later than normal because of a big group of high school students who came in last minute.”
“What do you need me to do?” He’d assumed she’d be working and had just wanted to see her—any time he had free time, he wanted to get his Angel fix, as he thought of it. But he would gladly stay and help.
“Nothing,” she said laughingly, some of the shadows lifting from her gaze. “You’re not an employee and I’m not putting you to work.”
“Maybe you can put me to work later,” he murmured, stepping closer and erasing the last few inches between them. His gaze fell to her plump lips as he rested a hand on her hip. He clutched on possessively, wishing they were all alone right now, that they were somewhere private so he could have his way with her. “Right between your legs.”
Her cheeks flushed under her bronze skin and she glanced over her shoulder, as if to make sure they were still alone. “Hush. And go on, get out of here.”
He tightened his grip on her hip and tugged her closer, loving the way she melted against him. “Are you coming over tonight?”
“I’m pretty exhausted.” There was a vulnerability in her gaze and it pulled at all his heartstrings. Things between them were so new, and though he knew exactly what he wanted—everything—he was aware that she had walls up between them. And letting her guard down, being herself with him, was hard for her.
“Then how about I come over to your place and cook for you?” And then he could make her come.
“You don’t have to do that.” She tightened her grip on his waist slightly, the expression in her eyes softening.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He loved spending time with her and wished they shared a place together. It was too soon for her, but not for him. So he was playing this right. Or he hoped he was. The woman had him all twisted up and he felt as if he was walking a tightrope. He didn’t want to push her too hard, too fast. Which was damn hard when he wanted to push, take over, claim her and make sure everyone knew she was his.