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Reaching around me, he grips the handle and opens the door. I barely have time to step out of his way before he disappears through the frame. He shuts the door behind him with a bang, leaving me in the awful silence of his room.
Chapter 8
Ian
What did I expect? I can’t force Cas to admit things she isn’t ready to face. I’m angry with her. Unjustifiably so, but still too angry to be around her. It’s not her fault she’s in this situation. It’s mine. I knew from the start the kind of blame I’d have to carry, and I’m as prepared to do it now as what I’ve been from the start. I just hoped she’d give me something. A voice deep inside says she’s already given me her body, but I’m a greedy bastard. I want her heart, and when I have that, I’ll want a piece of her soul. It will never be enough. I can never have enough of her.
Even if her obstinance annoys the fuck out of me, I like the fire in her. She’s quick to lose her temper, but I have patience. Normally, I wouldn’t have lost my cool, but that scrap of a pretty human does things to me that make me forget myself. She makes me lose my goddamn mind.
I’m halfway down the path when I realize I didn’t take a light or a gun. Fuck. Tough luck. I’m already at the bridge anyway.
I still have the keys to the main building in my pocket. When I get there, I unlock and go to the office. The catalog I ordered for Cas lies on the desk with the rest of the mail. In a futile effort not to let my mind linger on the woman who’s the cause of my anger, I push the catalog aside. I pour a scotch and pop a cigar in my mouth, but the alcohol isn’t enough to settle my restlessness. To distract myself, I spend the better part of the night going over the plans we’ve already perfected. The painting we’re planning on stealing from an upmarket museum in Cape Town is worth a few million. The stealing isn’t the tricky part. It’s securing a buyer.
When my eyes burn and my shoulder aches, I lie down on the sofa and pull the throw over me. It smells of Cas, of orange blossoms and sweet, difficult woman. My hard-on strains against the zipper of my jeans. I had plans for that mouth of hers that would’ve taken care of the problem in my pants, but that will have to wait. Sighing, I turn on my side to catch a few hours of shuteye.
Before the first light, I’m up. I grab a clean shirt from the washing line outside the kitchen and shave and shower in the guest bathroom. I’ve eaten breakfast and prepared a tray with coffee and French toast by the time the staff comes in. As I locked my rifle in the room last night, I take another from the office cabinet, sling it over my shoulder, and carry the tray with the catalog to my bungalow.
The door swings open without a squeak. The hinges are always oiled. Behind the mosquito net, Cas’s body is a vague outline on her side of the bed. I want to take my time and love her body gently. I want to kiss her before I go. I leave the tray on the desk by the window and place the catalog next to it. Taking one of the roses I’d gotten for Cas from the vase, I lay it on top of the catalog before going over to the bed.
I slide a finger between the opening of the net, pushing the edges aside. She’s lying on her back with her hands crossed over her chest like an Egyptian mummy. Her breasts rise and fall with peaceful breaths. She’s dressed in one of my T-shirts, looking the way I like her best—like mine.
The sheet has slipped to her middle. I’m indecent enough to hook a finger under the sheet and drag it down her legs. My T-shirt is bunched around her waist, exposing the humble, cheap, white panties we bought at the store, and fuck me if the sight of that innocent cotton doesn’t turn me as hard as granite.
I want to crawl over her, pull the elastic of those panties aside, and wake her up with my cock buried balls-deep inside her. I want to fuck her while she wears that modest piece of underwear, and then I want to dress her up in the sleezy lace and make her come around my dick wearing those too. I want to strip her naked and pin her ass against the bare window while I eat her out on my knees. Instead, I lower the rifle to the floor, bend over her, and plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth.
