Page 24 of To Heist and to Hold

Her legs shook, and she had the rogue thought that she would have fallen over on the spot had his body not been curled around her.

They stood that way for a time, their heartbeats gradually slowing, their breaths evening.

Somewhere on the other side of the wall, a plank of wood clattered to the ground, and someone cursed.

She should have felt embarrassed—they were barely feet away from the workmen—but instead a giddy laugh escaped her.

Ethan stilled at the sound. Before she could think what that stillness meant, however, he joined her, rough chuckles tumbling from his lips like rocks down a cliff face. He started briefly, as if unused to the sound, before continuing. Which surprised her into continuing, their laughter mingling.

It was surprisingly intimate, even more intimate than what they had done just minutes before.

Warmth seeped into her cheeks as, laughter finally dying down, she chanced a glance up at him.

His features were softened, eyes crinkling at the corners in a wholly attractive way, full lips stretched in an easy smile.

Her heart gave a quick, heavy thrum in her chest. Unconsciously she pressed a hand over the unruly organ, as if she could somehow tame it.

But it continued its thumping, as if waking after a deep, dreamless sleep and wanting her to know it was there.

His gaze caressed her upturned face like he was seeing her for the first time.

“I never intended for this ”—he indicated the small space between their bodies—“to happen when you arrived this morning.” A frown furrowed his brow as he looked to the floor.

“It was not well done of me. I have never in my life lost control like that.”

He appeared bewildered, as if he could not understand how such a thing could have occurred. She blinked. Was he saying he had been so overwhelmed by her he had not been thinking straight? Surely not. As she knew full well, she was not one to stir such emotions in anyone.

And yet…

And yet when he turned his gaze back to hers, the heat there told a very different story. She swallowed hard against a suddenly parched throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He stared at her before letting loose a huffing laugh. “You’re sorry? What the devil for? It’s my problem, not yours.”

Her cheeks, those damn traitorous cheeks, burned hot under his disbelieving stare.

“I was not exactly holding myself back, though, was I?” She gave a nervous laugh of her own.

“I’m not normally so brazen. I’ve never done this before.

That is, I’ve done this ”—she motioned to the space between them as he had done, which was apparently a safe way of indicating they’d had sex without actually saying the words aloud—“but only ever infrequently, and certainly with much less passion…”

She clamped a hand over her mouth and stared up at him wide-eyed in horror. She hadn’t meant to reveal that particular truth.

He stared down at her, equally wide-eyed, though in his case it was caused by shock if the rest of his expression was to go by. Mortified beyond bearing, she fumbled along the wall behind her, desperately searching for the door handle.

“But I should get going. I have to check on my fri… er, cousin, to make certain he is settling in well, and then I have an appointment… somewhere.” She finally located the handle. Nearly sobbing in relief, she turned it, intending to pull it open and dive through.

His hand on the door above her head, however, stopped her in her tracks.

“I will see you tonight?”

She gaped up at him. “What?”

He appeared confused, as if he could not understand what he was doing.

But then his face settled into determined lines, and he asked again, his voice firmer than before, “Will I see you tonight?” He tentatively tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his lips quirking in one corner in a wholly endearing manner.

“I would very much like to see you again. Separate from business dealings, that is.”

“Goodness,” she whispered, the last bit of her self-disgust melting away in the face of this softness. Truly, who knew the man had it in him?

But she had revealed enough of her own inexperience to him; she did not need to appear as an even more pathetic figure in his eyes.

“Yes. That is,” she continued, fighting the urge to press her hands to her burning cheeks, “I would like that as well.”

Why did his shoulders lower and his face ease as if he were relieved? And why on God’s green earth did that small reaction make her insides melt like strawberry ices on a hot summer day?

“Well then,” she said, trying to gain some kind of control over not only the situation, but her own unruly emotions as well, “I should be going.” With that she looked pointedly up at his hand, still on the door, holding her captive.

“Oh,” he said, removing his hand and stepping back.

She hurriedly pulled the door open, peering out to make certain no one was about before slipping through.

All the while, as she practically fled Dionysus, she was achingly aware of the rapid pounding of her heart, each thump of that traitorous organ counting the seconds until she could see Ethan again.