My finger skims the silk of her bra and she gasps against my mouth. I work that finger under the material and groan. Round, soft flesh teases me, begs to be cupped and shaped and flattened against me. I move my lips down the arch of her neck and she tilts her head to give me better access. I dart my tongue into the delicate recess under her ear and savour the taste of her. The scent of coconuts surrounds me—from her hair I assume. I’m unable to resist drawing it in and relishing it.
When my mouth meets her collarbone and too much material, I draw back to lift her top and pull down the cups of that emerald green bra. Pink tips and skin paler than the rest of her greets me, the perfect up tilt of her breasts plead for my kiss. I swirl a finger around each nipple and trace the faint lines of blue veins under her skin.
Jess threads her fingers into my hair, a silent invitation, and I bend to kiss the valley. She tastes tangy and smells like heaven. I could lose myself there but she won’t let me. She urges me over and I take a nipple into my mouth. Her exhale of gratification makes my cock twitch. I nip and lave my tongue over the tight bud. When I go to clamp my teeth over it, a strange sound breaks the moment and I pause.
“Y-your phone,” she says, breathlessly.
I jolt upright and realize it’s vibrating in my jacket pocket and playing some awful tune that tells me exactly who it is.
The client. Her stepfather.
Reluctantly, I pull it out and slide to answer. “Hunter.” I let my gaze trail over Jess’s exposed breasts until the voice at the other end drags my attention back to reality.
“Have you found the money yet?” Carl asks.
“No, not yet,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I’ve given you plenty of time.”
I back toward the door and Jess begins rearranging her bra and top. My stomach sinks. Could Carl have any worse timing? “One more week. That’s all I need.”
“Hunter?” Jess jumps off the counter.
“You’re with her?” Carl’s voice is tinged with tension.
I place my hand over the speaker and sigh. “Jess, I need to go. Work stuff,” I explain. “Call me?”
She nods and I study the colour in her cheeks and her bright green eyes with regret. When she goes onto tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek, as if I’m some good guy who’s not screwing with her life, my heart sinks. Before I can weaken, I give her a wave and step out of the apartment. She shuts the door slowly, keeping her gaze on me as I lift the phone to my ear.
I spin on my heel and storm down the steps. “Carl, I’m here.”
“You’ve got five days. If you can’t get it done by then, you can say goodbye to that big fat cheque.”
“I’m doing everything I can. I’ll find the damned money.”
“See that you do.”
“Where’s the money from, Carl? What are you going to do if I find it?”
“What’s it to do with you?” he splutters.
“I’m an investigator. It’s my job to ask questions. If you can give me some more info it would make my job a hell of a lot easier.” I step out into the street and stop by the Harley. Leaning against it, I lift my gaze to Jess’s apartment and picture her in it, stripping off her clothes, maybe taking a shower. Christ.
“Does it matter? She’s a thief. Find out where it is and you’ll get your big payday and you can forget about Jessica.”
“If you’re getting me involved in something dodgy—”
“Five days, O’Reilly,” he barks and the buzz at the other end of the line tells me he’s hung up.
“Shit.” I scrape a hand through my hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I scrub a hand across my face run some calculations. If I don’t catch up on bills, I’m going under within a month easily. Everything will be gone. I have no other jobs going on at the moment as Carl was insisting this be top priority which means no money coming in. I’ll be no better than my deadbeat alcoholic father and I’ll lose Mam’s house.
I’ve got to find that money and fast. I stare up at the concrete block in front of me once more and shake my head. I’ve been going about this wrong. Instead of trying to trace the money from the present, I should have been going from the past. Problem is, I got so tied up in Jess, I’m barely able to think straight. Her past is the key here. I need to do some digging.
Pulling up Mitch’s number, I press dial and tap my foot. It’s Sunday. He should be around, but he could be on a job. He’s been known to disappear at the last minute to an exotic destination to guard someone famous. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice becoming an investigator.
“Hey, man,” Mitch answers.
“Mitch, are you in? I need a favour.”
“Sure, just give me five minutes.”
“Why?”
“Company.”
I smirk. Typical Mitch. While I gave up women when Mam got sick, Mitch seemed to think it was his duty to sleep with all the women in London in my stead. “I’m in Peckham at the moment anyway.”
“See you in a bit then.”