We lock eyes.

“I missed you too,” I say, pulling his mouth against mine with a soft moan.

Our kiss deepens, and a feeling of safety washes over me. In his arms, nothing bad can touch us. I part my lips and reach up to lace my fingers through his soft hair. He moans and I pull his mouth to mine harder, letting him know that I want him. Our breaths come fast and hot, and my hands reach to tug at his shirt and the waistband of his pants.

St. Clair helps me undress him as he kisses the underside of my wrist. He nips at the sensitive skin there and then moves his mouth up to the inside of my elbow and kisses all the way up to my wet, naked collarbone, biting and sucking just a tiny bit. My body starts to hum and I tip my head back against the tile, closing my eyes until he suddenly stops. When I look at him, he’s stepping back with a slow smile, reaching down to slide off his briefs.

I grin back at him and follow the lines of his muscles with my eyes, from the smooth planes of his chest to his tight abs, and then lower, to his perfect cock, already hard and magnificent. I sit up, bubbles sliding down my breasts as I reach out to stroke him, pulling St. Clair close so I can guide the tip of him into my mouth. I close my lips around his length, sliding my tongue up and down, moving my hands along his shaft. St. Clair groans and I feel heat spread between my legs.

“That’s right, God, yes.” His hands tug my hair, directing me in a slow, deep rhythm. I gorge on him, loving the taste, the scent of him, until finally St. Clair pulls back.

“Not so fast,” he teases, his breath coming ragged. “I plan on taking my time with you.”

My stomach twists with lust.

“Make some room in that tub,” he grins.

He steps over the edge and settles in behind me, water sloshing, so I’m cradled between his muscular thighs. He leans me back against his chest, his hands roaming lazily over my wet, naked body, out of sight under the bubbles. I can feel his hard cock pressing into my back, and I shift experimentally, feeling him hiss with breath.

“Easy there, tiger,” St. Clair murmurs in my ear. His fingers stroke over my belly, down between my thighs, then back up, teasing me. “I want to make sure every inch of you is squeaky clean…”

After everything I’ve been through, this is exactly what I need: to be reassured, touched, cared for. He takes the bottle of shower gel soaps up his palms. Then he begins to slide his hands over me with a new, sure purpose. Soothing. Caressing. The suds slide over my skin like silk, and I sink back, lost in bliss.

“Your body is incredible,” he whispers.

I open my eyes in time to see him slowly stroke my breasts, taking one in each hand. He runs his fingers over my nipples, circling them over and over, making me inhale sharply at the surge of energy pulsing downwards.

I moan, writhing in his arms, but St. Clair moves one arm against my chest, pinning me against his body.

“Look,” he commands me, and I do. I watch his strong, capable hands stroking lower, down between my thighs. The bubbles are dissipating now, and I watch his hands touch me at the same time I feel the pleasure they provide. My pulse pounds in my ears, and I gasp for air.

“Shh,” he soothes. But he doesn’t let up. He slides his thick finger up over my clit, over and around, faster and harder until I’m moaning. Then he curls two fingers, and sinks them low, deep inside me.

“Yes…”

I arch up, coiled tight with want, needing him deeper. Needing more.

St. Clair fucks me with his fingers, slow and deliberate, until my blood is boiling, and I can’t take anymore. I break free from his embrace, and turn, sliding my wet body against his torso until I’m straddling his legs, facing him.

I hold his gaze as I press my pussy against his rock hard cock.

St. Clair’s jaw clenches, he lets out a groan. “We’re done playing,” he growls.

I gasp as he grips my hips and lifts all of me up, sliding my wet clit against the whole length of him slowly, slowly until I feel just the tip of him about to break contact, and then he pulls me down onto him in a rush of slick pressure. Oh, God.

I force myself to relax onto him, taking every inch inside me until I’m filled completely. God, he feels so good, and with me on top, I can feel the thick length of him rubbing my walls, the friction rising as I slowly rock against him, finding my pace, letting out a whimper.

God, yes.

St. Clair’s fingers dig into my ass as he grips me to him, urging me on. I rock faster, loving the heat between us, the slick glide of the water on our skin. I can feel my climax building, and I arch up, slamming down on him over and again, not caring that we’re splashing all over the tile. St. Clair matches me, thrusting up, reaching to cup my breasts and murmur my name, over and over.

“Fuck, yes, Grace.” His words drive me on, and I feel incredible, unleashed, like nothing can hold me back. I take my pleasure from him and give it too, grinding my hips with every thrust to satisfy the ache. Again and again he lifts and plunges, his face in my breasts, our fast breaths and soft grunts urging each other on, until I can feel the hum building in my clit, a rising symphony of pleasure intensifying with each second until I’m sure it can’t get any better.

“Yes,” I groan in his ear. “Yes.” And then it does get even better, and I scream St. Clair’s name as the crescendo of a lifetime blows my mind, my orgasm ripping through me as St. Clair thrusts up one last time and lets out an animal groan.

We come together, and I collapse into his arms.

“I love you, Grace.” He kisses my shoulder and I shiver. “More than I’ve loved anyone, ever.”

Later, we’re wrapped in luxurious fluffy robes, relaxing in front of a roaring fire. “Do you have a stash of these at each house?” I ask, fingering the soft fabric. “Are you their biggest customer?”

“Hardly,” he says. “I know for a fact Prince William has a different one for each day of the week.” He pulls me in for a kiss and our lips are still not tired of each other, our tongues melting into each other yet again…I lean back too far and bump into the side table. My purse topples to the floor, spilling its contents like confetti.

I pick up my phone and notice that the case has come dislodged. There’s a tiny chip attached, just inside by the speaker. I freeze, then hold out my phone to show it to St. Clair.

“What is it?” I whisper. “A bug?”

He looks it over, then nods his head. He draws me across the room. “It’s a tracking device too, so it’ll record all your phone conversations and transmit your location. They must have planted it back at the station, while you were in custody.”

My heart falls, my earlier insecurities come rushing back. “He’ll never give up,” I say. “Lennox is coming after us, no matter what. He wants to catch his master thief.”

“We’ll think of something.” St. Clair squeezes my shoulder. “I promise, he’ll come up empty-handed.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to.”

A glimmer of an idea tugs at my brain.

St. Clair frowns. “What do you mean?”

I smile as my plan starts to take shape. “If Lennox’s plan is to trail me in order to catch the mastermind behind all these heists, why don’t we give him exactly what he wants: a thief in handcuffs, the collar he’s been after all this time?”

St. Clair catches the sly glint in my eyes; I know because I see it in his eyes too. He’s catching on. “I like the way you think.”

I grin. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

CHAPTER 14

The next day, I pack the last of my things, and head down to the street to wait for the cab. My phone rings. It’s St. Clair – he’s already gone ahead, like we planned.