“Yes, I’m fine, Malcolm. Go home. I’ll handle my mother.” Ending her call, Shiloh opens the door to a darkened foyer and drops her phone and purse on a side table. Before she can react, I slam it shut, and close in right behindher.
“Is anyonehome?”
She pauses but doesn’t turn around. “Bianca is at some benefit dinner.” She’s breathing heavy because she’snervous.
Good. She should be. I’m a real criminalnow.
“Then no one will interruptus.”
“Do you want to talk in here?” She moves to the side, reaching a shaking hand for the light switch, but before she can touch it, I spin her around to faceme.
“No. I’m done talking. Let’s go to yourroom.”
“Cary, I don’tthink…”
After stealing her money, the paparazzi showing up, and the bombshell about the donation, I’m hanging on by a thread. Before it snaps, I push her against the wall, trapping her wrists over her head. A protest rumbles in her throat, and I smother it with my mouth. I don’t ask, I demand, parting her lips with my tongue, and kissing her with all the hunger I’ve held back. Her body melts for me—cravesme.
And I’m takingit.
Shifting her pinned wrists into one hand, I grip her chin and lift it toward my eyes. “That wasn’t a fucking request. Let’sgo.”
Ten hallways, two staircases, and eleven doorways later, she opens the door to the room that starred in every one of my teenage fantasies. However, when she backs up and waits for me to walk in, I stand there andstare.
It’s white and frilly and wrapped up in so much lace I’m not sure if it’s where she sleeps or sacrificesvirgins.
I raise an eyebrow. “This is yourroom?”
“Yep. Bianca decorated it when I was twelve and never quite got the hint that I grewup.”
Even if she hadn’t told me the room was hers, I would’ve known. Right above an expensive white wooden dresser, an enormous mirror is covered in the same damn trash bags I found downstairs. Even more of an eyesore, a full-length mirror sits across the room wrapped up like a sadistic Christmas present in the same black plastic and silver ducttape.
I motion to the bags. “Why do you dothis?”
“What is this, truth ordare?”
I shrug. “Okay, you want to play games, fine.” Glancing over my shoulder, I give her zero emotion. “Truth or Dare, Shiloh. Why do you cover your mirrors with trash bags? And don’t feed me some bullshit line about them breakingagain.”
She swallows hard, her eyes falling to the floor. “I takedare.”
Immediately, I know what I’m going to do. “Take your shirtoff.”
“What? Noway.”
“Truth or dare, Starshine. You picked dare. I don’t make therules.”
“I hate you sometimes.” Clutching the bottom of her white shirt in her fists, she jerks it over her head and throws it to the floor. “Happy?”
“Bratoo.”
“No! That wasn’t part of thedeal.”
“You can still answer the question. After all, this was youridea.”
“Fuck you, Cary.” She’s wearing that same front clasp bra as before and with one flick of her wrist, the damn thing pops open again and falls off her shoulders. I have to take a minute to breathe because my mind goes blank. All I can think of is wrapping my lips around her puckered nipples again and sucking so hard her kneesbuckle.
“My turn,” she announces, breaking my focus. “Why will you accept Taryn’s money and notmine?”
Because I’ve already fucking stolen it, that’swhy.
