Page 90 of Heist in Paradise

Around me, my crew orbited and dropped one by one. Even Nate, who I couldn’t look at, not without grinding my teeth and wanting to drown the fucker. But Callum was near him, making sure he didn’t expire prematurely from his injuries. I appreciated that more than I should.

My burning eyes stared unseeingly up at the night sky. Olivia shifted beside me, her head resting on my chest. There was a tiny smile on her face that made my heart blip. I could tell from the way her smile widened that she’d heard it.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked slyly, leaning up on her elbow. I drank in her face, my hunger stirring.

“Kissing you,” I lied. Well, mostly. I wanted to kiss her as much as I wanted her to straddle my lap and ride me into a coma. We’d run out of time, and I genuinely grieved the loss of never having her like that. It was a crime not to know whether she was just as ballsy in bed, just as demanding and bratty.

My exhaustion vanished at once, replaced by a sharp throb of want.

Olivia hummed, her eyes narrowing like she didn’t believe me. Then the little minx licked her lips, making them glisten in the moonlight. “Trauma porn,” she said with a rueful grin. “I think I’m becoming a masochist.”

“Not unless you want me to hurt you.”

She said nothing, and my mouth went dry at the very pointed silence. Jesus fuck.

Olivia chuffed in amusement. “Now you’re the one who swallowed his tongue.”

“Maybe,” I said, reaching up to grab her chin, framing that wicked mouth. “Help me find it?”

She didn’t move quickly enough, and I was too impatient, so I swooped up and kissed her.

My head went silent, and this time, I welcomed it.

OLIVIA

I woke up feeling like a great big bag of dirt.

My head throbbed, my back ached, and there was sand in places, all the places. I groaned and opened my eyes. The pale mauve sky of dawn stared back at me.

How the hell was I still alive?

The events of the last twelve hours flashed through my head like a masochistic highlight reel. The boat, the air vent, the war rooms, the sex dungeon—god, the tunnels. A bitter taste flooded my mouth. Molly.

Panic zipped through me like an alarm. I sat upright, clutching my head, looking around frantically. A shaky exhale left me when I spotted her. She was still on the dock, standing like a sentinel. We’d never found the keys to the yacht, but part of me had still worried she’d find a way to disappear again.

She didn’t feel real yet.

Our reunion hadn’t gone anything like I imagined it. I knew it was stupid of me to hope she’d be the same person, like the last two years hadn’t happened, and she was still that annoying, uptight, know-it-all older sister. But the Molly I knew was still missing, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

An arm tightened around my waist.

Startled, I looked down. Jax was still asleep, his face tense even in dreams, but he held onto me. His hair was mussed and full of sand. Bruises littered his skin, including the ones I’d given him.

His split lip was mine. I did that

I wondered what it said about me that I liked it.

Cringing at myself, I lifted his arm and tried to extract myself cleanly. Of course, he fought me, even unconscious. His arm tightened again, so tight that it felt like a boa constrictor was circling my waist.

“Jax!” I hissed.

His eyes snapped open.

He blinked once, registered my face. His arm didn’t loosen—if anything, it tightened even more, so I felt my ribs begin to creak. “What?” he grumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“It’s dawn,” I wheezed, tugging at his arm.

“Five more minutes.”