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Carlo hefts up a cardboard box and plops it on a long table. “Here you go, Brunello. We can count it later, but that looks to be all of it, as far as I can tell.”
My arm circles Jessica’s waist as if it’s been invited to make her hips my permanent address. “Come on. I’ll show you that we’re not here to mess up your library.”
“I believe you!” she protests, but she doesn’t pull away. Jessica lets me lead her forward so we can peer into the box together.
She smells like a goddamn orchard—a mix of fruit and flowers. My mouth goes from parched to watering.
I want this silly costume off her. I want to get on my knees and suck on that sweet spot between those thick thighs. Not even the sight of five-hundred grand can distract my dick from that scenario, which happily replays over and over in my mind.
My pussycat gasps, her hand going over her mouth. “That was down here this whole time? There’s got to be… I don’t know. But it’s a lot.”
“Five-hundred thousand dollars,” I inform her. “And my men deserve every penny.”
She makes to back up, but my arm around her waist won’t let her go anywhere.
The fantasy of her trying to escape ends in me catching her and bending her over the hood of my car so I can teach her what happens to kittens who run away.
Panic raises her pitch. “I had no idea. Please, I don’t want anything to do with this! I should have known this job was too good to be true!”
Now my arm is cradling her to my side, pressing her tits to my ribs.
Though I am a perfect stranger, Jessica curls into my side like a scared woodland creature, seeking refuge with the big, bad wolf.
I thumb at her hip and press a kiss to her forehead, ignoring Carlo’s shock aimed in my direction. “I know that, sweetheart. Like I said; we’re not here to bother you. We’re just here for what’s ours.” But now that we’ve collected our money, another worry arises. “But the Torros will be back for their stolen money, and they won’t be pleased when they find it’s gone missing.”
Her breath syncopates. “I need to get the kids out of here. What if they come by tonight—these Torros people?”
I kiss her forehead again, as if I’ve been invited to do so. In fact, after the first time, it’s easier and easier to treat Jessica as if she’s belonged in my arms for ages.
I take my phone out of my pocket and call upstairs. “We found it. Send the teenagers home after you take their cell phones. They can pick them up here tomorrow. Get them out of here before the Torros show up.” I cast an apologetic look to my pussycat. “Party’s over.”
I end the call without waiting for confirmation. I shouldn’t need any if Gio’s team is on their game, which they always are.
I give my librarian a squeeze, loving how soft her body is as it forms to my side. “They can pick up their cell phones tomorrow. We can’t have them calling the police before we have a chance to get out of here.” I kiss her forehead again. “Is that better?”
Jessica hesitates as she ponders my plan and then slowly nods. “Thank you. They’re children. They don’t need to be caught up in any of this.” When she buries her face in my armpit, my heart soars. “I should have known this job would fall apart. I unpacked my last moving box this morning. I jinxed the whole thing.”
Carlo takes the box with our money into the elevator, holding the telescoping door open for me with his foot.
The rest of the men move toward the exit, but I stand with my librarian, holding her to me as my brain takes a much-needed vacation. “You can’t come back here.”
“What?” Her voice trembles, and I can tell she’s at the end of her feigned calm.
“The Torros will assume you let us in, or perhaps that you stole the money. You can’t come back.”
It’s a lie, and a bad one, at that. The Torros wouldn’t suspect a librarian of stealing their money. They would know it was us, and they wouldn’t care if she let us in because they would know it was under duress. Plus, no one has to “let” us go anywhere. We create our own invitations.
A hardness chases the fear off her face. “No one is going to scare me out of this job. Not the Torros and not you.”
My hand moves to her face, snatching her chin between my thumb and forefinger, but not before I catch a glimpse of her visible wince.
Agony crushes my erection as I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “I wasn’t going to hit you, pussycat.”
Moisture pools in those beautiful blue eyes as she blinks up at me. “Sorry. Habit.”
Do I know this woman well enough to kiss her slick peach lips, in front of my men, no less?
No.
