Читать книгу Faking It / Forbidden Sins - Stefanie London - Страница 18

Hannah

GOD, WHAT AM I saying? This whole event has my head mixed up. I’m wearing a revealing dress, touching erotic sculptures and talking about sex with my colleague. This is not who I am.

I should have my eye on the prize. I should be hunting out Dom and Rowan and trying to figure out if they’re part of the jewellery theft ring we’re supposed to be tracking down. But it’s like I’ve inhaled some kind of drug and my brain is in a lusty pink fog.

The way he looks at me, with those intense blue eyes, makes the rest of the room evaporate. I’ve wanted a lot of things in my life—to climb the ladder at work, to have the respect of my father and brothers, to one day have a family of my own. But I’ve never wanted another man as much as I want Owen right now. The years have grown my desire for him, making it stronger and more unwieldy.

He encircles my wrist with his fingers and tugs me closer, as any husband in love with his wife might do. I tilt my face up, trying to read him. But Owen’s poker face is world class. He’s a master joker, a friend to all…and known by none.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

The heat from his body melts me and I pull my hand away from his grip and press it to his chest. His mother’s ring glimmers. “Making conversation.”

I’m not, though. I’m dancing around something I know I shouldn’t be doing. A suggestion which has occupied me with increasing strength from the very second we were left alone in our apartment at 21 Love Street.

“It’s not a smart conversation,” he says.

“Because you’re going to reject me again?” I don’t know why I’m setting myself up for this.

“I should.”

Should. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. “Because we work together?”

Owen’s lips lift into a smile. “That should be the reason you keep your hands to yourself. I’ve got no interest in rejoining the force.”

“Then why?”

“Because you don’t want casual sex.”

His assumption that he knows me so well—regardless of how accurate the statement is—annoys me. Okay, fine, so maybe I already know sex with him wouldn’t be casual even if it was a one-time only deal. So what? I’m a grown woman and I know how to deal with the consequences of my actions.

“That’s my decision to make,” I reply. “And I haven’t voiced what I want, so I’m not sure why you think it’s your place to tell me.”

We’re close now. So close that if we swayed it would look like we were slow-dancing. The people around us might assume the intimate chatter between us is verbal foreplay—and I guess it is. I can’t seem to do the sensible thing and back away, because the moment I heard about his move to New York, I thought I’d lost him forever.

Who falls for the most unattainable guy in the world and expects to survive without any bruises on her heart? I’m a fool.

But maybe a few bruises would do me good. It’s been so long since I did anything that wasn’t work. And yes, I want to solve this case and prove my boss made the right decision to promote me…but this could be my last chance to have the man who’s always occupied my head. What happens behind the closed doors of our apartment isn’t anyone’s business.

This was precisely why I wanted us to play brother and sister…because I knew that one kiss for the sake of playing a role would be enough to unlatch the feelings I’ve locked up tight for far too long.

“Then tell me, Hannah. What do you want?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy something that gets my intuition tingling. And, as much as I desperately want to keep playing this game with Owen, the case does come first. “Matt and Celina are arguing.”

“Huh?” Owen blinks and I entwine my fingers with his, pulling him toward the next sculpture in the exhibition. “Where?”

“Your nine o’clock.” I lean over so it looks like I’m reading the little gold plaque. “They’re standing by the hallway.”

“Got it. She looks pissed.”

I let my gaze drift casually in the direction of the argument. A few people have noticed and are moving away, so Celina and Matt head down the dark corridor together, disappearing into another part of the gallery.

“Think it’s something?” I ask. I stand and lean my head against Owen’s shoulder, so we can speak without anyone hearing.

“Not sure. Did you notice her earrings before?”

I nod. “Big stones. Could be fake, though.”

“We should try to get a photo to compare to the list of stuff that went missing in the Collins Auction House robbery.” His voice is low, gravelly. He could be reciting a shopping list and still make it sound like the sexiest thing ever. “I had a funny feeling about them.”

“Me, too.”

I walk forward, unhurried. Partly because I don’t want to draw any attention, and partly because it’s the only speed I can maintain in these damn heels. Owen is beside me, his hand still in mine. I feel as though my body is burning up. We receive curious glances from other people in the room—but nothing that gets my police officer senses tingling. My dress demands attention and Owen…well, he’s always got appreciative eyes on him. The open-collar shirt and grey suit pants make him look every bit the hot Aussie millionaire he’s supposed to be.

We slip past the gold sign that tells us this hallway is “for staff use only” and follow the voices.

“Then why did you invite me here?” Matt sounds irritated and in the quiet pause, I can hear sniffling. “I thought we agreed to part ways after…”

I shuffle closer to a bend in the hallway, and I can tell they’re just around the corner. Celina is definitely crying.

“Can you walk away so easily?” she asks. “After everything we shared?”

“You were the one who said you couldn’t do this anymore. I was ready to go all in.”

“No, you weren’t. Because you would have listened to me if you’d cared at all about my feelings.”

It’s a lover’s spat. Nothing more. I’m about to motion for Owen to head back the way we came, when she mutters something under her breath.

“Here, take these bloody things. I’m not going to wear something you stole.” There’s a long pause and the sound of something dropping against the floor.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cel. They were a gift.” Matt sighs. “Does it matter where they came from?”

My brows shoot up and Owen nods. This could be something—because I am damn sure she’s talking about the earrings.

“Yes, it matters. It should have mattered before but I was willing to look past your…unethical activities.” She huffs and the sound of shoes knocking against the floor makes my heart kick up a notch. Shit. They’re coming this way. “You promised me you’d get out of that stuff. It’s dangerous.”

Owen backs up as silently as possible. The hallway isn’t long but I’m moving slow and a little unsteadily in these heels…we’re not going to get back out before they come around the corner. And there’s nowhere else to go.

As I sense a flash of movement, Owen pushes me against the wall and his lips are hard on mine once more. It’s even better this time than it was the first—because anticipation has been fuelling my every movement. My every waking moment. I open to him like a flower, my body warm and pliable in his hands. The soft groan that comes from the back of his throat is everything.

The scent of his cologne winds through me, and like a creeping vine it wraps around my heart and lungs. I’m intoxicated by him. Enraptured by the way his hands smooth over the fabric of my dress, tracing my boyish shape and making me feel every inch a desirable woman. They tell me a perfect lie and I’m in too deep not to believe it.

I slide my tongue along his, tangling my fingers in his hair and taking my fill. By the time we’re done—pink-cheeked and breathing a little heavier—Celina and Matt are gone. I turn my head in time to see Matt walking out of the gallery on the other side of the room. Celina is mingling with the guests as though nothing happened.

“Did you see anything?” I pull back and right my dress, which has ridden up my thighs.

Owen shakes his head. “No. I was a little distracted.”

It’s a problem. These kinds of distractions lead to cases going unsolved…or worse. We’ve lost good men and women in the past when someone makes a mistake. When someone has their eye on the wrong thing.

Guilt surges through my veins. I’ve got this amazing opportunity in front of me and I’m letting my libido lead me astray. I know this thing with Owen won’t go anywhere, but I can’t let it go. Maybe sex cravings are like food cravings? If you want something sweet, the best way to dissipate that feeling is to nibble on some chocolate.

“What did you make of the whole ‘unethical activities’ thing?” I ask as we slip back into the main room.

“It’s vague, but it cements Matt as someone to keep an eye on.”

The gallery is much fuller now and it’s harder to get close to the sculptures. So we tuck ourselves away in a corner, pretending to inspect one of Celina’s few charcoal sketches. This one depicts a woman with her face screwed up with pleasure. The blurry figure of a man is behind her, with his hand at her throat. It’s intense. Sexy and a little dangerous and it socks me in the chest.

“She’s talented,” I murmur, watching Celina weave through the crowd.

There’s no sign of her tears now. Her face is radiant as she works the room—touching arms and leaning in close to create a sense of intimacy geared toward making people open their wallets.

“She’s not wearing earrings anymore.” Owen slips a hand around my waist as we spot Rowan across the room. His face lights up in recognition and he heads over. “I think we need to make sure you get a business card for Ms. Yang. A private consultation might be a good chance to get some information.”

I nod. “Maybe putting something like that in our bedroom might spice up our sex life.” I say it partially for Rowan’s benefit, loud enough that he’ll hear us acting like a regular married couple.

But heat flares in Owen’s eyes—turning the icy blue to pure flame—and his fingers flex at my hip in a way that’s instinctive. It’s not for show. I’m convinced I’m not the only one being drawn in by this carnal tide. He feels it, too. Underneath the teasing and the butting heads, there’s something simmering.

But he won’t pull the trigger. Why? For a long time I thought it was because he wasn’t attracted to me. But the way he looks at me now, darkly engrossed and with an intensity that threatens to burn me alive, I reconsider.

The fact is, I can’t keep going around and around like this. My brain is like a spinning top, and I need to focus. Tonight, I’m going to do something stupid, something that proves I’m a glutton for punishment.

I’m going to proposition Owen again.