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He cradles my head, and his hand is under my ass, holding me there. He’s still in me, getting soft, still big.
Hendrick kisses me long, slow, and so thorough my head spins as my toes curl in my shoes. Then he sets me down.
It’s a dangerous little game we’re playing, turning our sex words that are a code for love into a play on something deeper that neither of us means.
He slowly pulls out, and it’s with real regret that I watch him tuck his cock away. It wasn’t just wild post orgasmic bliss speaking before when I wanted to drop down in front of him.
I’d love to suck and lick and lap him clean. Fuck, I’d love for him to go down on his knees and lick and suck me.
Instead, he zips up and rolls his back against the tree next to me. It’s one of those old ones, big and thick and wide.
I’m struggling to get my breath back, and he’s not fairing so well either. With more force than desire, I push back to the job, and this time, I tell him what Fiona uncovered. I’m not shocked when he says, “I know, she texted me.”
I nod. “I need to work out how to get the necklace from the mayor,” I say. “The real one—”
“Here.”
He reaches into his pocket and hands me a small brown paper package. It’s addressed to a famous jeweler who specializes in restorations.
“Hendrick…”
He shrugs. “You’re not the only one with light fingers. I saw it and thought, what do I get the jewel thief who has almost everything.”
“Hendrick,” I breathe. “I love you.”
I don’t need to open it to know what it is.
“You stole it for me.”
He smiles, his dark eyes flaring to life. “I love you, too.”
TWELVE
HENDRICK
“You can thank Fiona,” I say to Magdalena.
Her eyes touch mine.
“That woman’s something else, isn’t she? She always has been, ever since I met her at college.” I pause. “Like I said, she texted me the moment she could. The mayor raved about that jeweler, so I checked her mail that’s ready to go out. And there it was in a brown plain wrapper. No one will notice until it doesn’t get delivered. And so many people are here that…could have been anyone. But not someone as rich as me.”
I smirk.
She frowns.
I’m a cunt. I know it. My words are chosen in the relative quiet and the dark privacy of this part of the garden, to twist the knife.
Jealousy doesn’t follow rules or even common sense. So it doesn’t matter I told her the truth earlier about Damon, about me and about how Fiona might feel.
Right now, singing my ex’s praises is enough to slide emotional reeds beneath Cat’s nails.
Thing is, this kind of shit isn’t me. Magdalena knows I love her, that I’ve fallen, just like I know she’s gone and done the same. We just fucking said it. But the fact is that doesn’t fucking matter.
At the end of the day, the end of all this, nothing will change, and as much as she should be mine, life doesn’t work that way.
Magdalena goes quiet.
I take her in, look at her, how her features are a little pinched.
