Page 34 of The One-Night Heist

I fucked Rowen Quincy last night.

Technically, he’d fucked me, and if I closed my eyes, I could still see the heavenly sheen of sweat on his freckled skin, the way his taut muscles flexed and his dick bobbed as he rode me almost angrily. My own twitched beneath the blanket as I remembered how perfectly his ass had clenched around me, how frustrating it had been to not be able to touch him—to empty into a condom instead of filling his hole with my cum like I’d wanted to.

Like how he’d filled me…

While I could no longer taste him on my tongue, my throat was slightly raw, and the bite mark he’d left on my neck was sore to the touch. I relished these physical reminders, especially since I’d been herded into the shower immediately afterward, as if I wouldn’t have remained bathed in him all night if given the choice.

I need to see him again.

As soon as possible.

Unfortunately, our post-sex discussion hadn’t included scheduling our next date. Rowen kept us focused on the job with a cool efficiency I recognized well, because it was the same method I used while muscling through necessary social and business interactions when I’d rather be anywhere else. His detached behavior had stung at first, but he’d been more than clear from the start about how wary he was to mix business with pleasure.

The last thing I wanted was for Rowen to regret the exception he’d made for me, so I’d matched his demeanor and focused on the heist at hand. After comparing our calendars, we noticed we both had social events this coming Friday night—a charity gala for me and an outdoor concert for him that he’d already debated “ghosting” but now would dutifully show up for.

“It’s the perfect alibi,” he explained, the lips I was dying to kiss curling in a smirk. “The mailroom clerks from the field office invited me and they’ll be so wasted by the time the first song ends, they won’t notice if I disappear for the rest of the show.”

After that, we’d discussed my apartment’s security system—which was independent from the building’s—and how hiring an electrician to come over earlier that day would provide plausible deniability when it came to a strategically tripped breaker that would allow Rowen to avoid being caught on my cameras.

The building’s cameras were another story, but Rowen assured me he already knew how to access the service elevator and could handle avoiding detection from there.

It’s probably best not to ask how he knows that…

“I assume a power outage will activate a fail-secure response with your exterior doors instead of a fail-safe, right, Moneybags?” When I nodded, he’d added, “Okay, so I’ll need the keypad code for the staff entrance near the service elevator.”

I’d hesitated for only a fraction of a second, but of course, Rowen noticed.

“Giano…” He’d sighed heavily, rising from his chair and circling the table before gripping me by the chin—exactly as he’d done when I was on my knees for him. “Your dick was just in my ass, but you’re worried about handing over a security code?”

I’d already started drifting off into the strange calm his control brought me, but immediately snapped back to attention. “It’s not that! I-I don’t want my staff to get in trouble⁠—”

“They won’t,” Rowen interrupted, calming me once again with how certain he sounded. “The Feds will question them, for sure—because it will look like an inside job—but as long as no one starts admitting things they haven’t done, they’ll be fine.”

My blood had run cold at that moment. “What about me? Won’t I also be questioned if they believe it’s an inside job?”

Rowen had scoffed, tilting my chin up as he leaned down, and for one foolish moment, I’d thought he might soothe me with a kiss.

“Baby…” he crooned, his breath tickling my lips, taunting me in every way. “You’re Giancarlo fucking Luxford and your lawyers are probably scary as hell. The FBI won’t ask you shit.”

After he’d left, I’d made a few phone calls and ordered room service before attempting to relax by watching a silly superhero movie, but it was futile. I was so on edge that every explosion on screen made me jump, and the worst part was that it had nothing to do with my incredibly illegal plans.

It was because Rowen wasn’t with me, and it was only thanks to a miracle, and wine from the wet bar, that I managed to drift off. I’d thought my nearly overwhelming desire would lessen after a night’s sleep, but waking up surrounded by his scent now had me hard and wanting all over again.

I suppose I should take care of this before I head home…

Unfortunately, it appeared Rowen had also helped himself to the “gold” lube I kept in the bedside drawer, although he’d kindly replaced it with a one-time-use packet of his own.

In… peach flavor.

With a laugh, I tossed the packet back into the drawer, determined to save it for the next time I brought Rowen here.

Because there will be a next time.

And I will figure out how to convince him to “do sleepovers.”

I had only just pulled my briefs over my flagging erection when my phone rang on the bedside table. For another foolish moment, I thought it might be Rowen, before reminding myself our only form of communication was supposed to be the encrypted text message app he’d installed for me.

When I saw who the caller was, I grinned, my mood immediately brightening.