Thief: A Bad Boy Romance (44 page)

“
I
’ve got
a surprise for you.”

I jump at the sound of his voice and whirl in my chair. “Jesus, where did you come from?”

Hunter winks and nods at the bookcase at the back of the library where I’ve been pouring over grant applications for the non-profits my mother gave me to look over.

I roll my eyes as he wraps his arms around the sides of the chair, running his hands up and down my arms as he presses his face into my neck.

“It might be nice to try coming in through the
normal
door for once, weirdo.”

He laughs, “How often did you wish you had secret passageways or a hidden room when you were a kid?”

“All the time?”

“
Exactly
,” he chuckles. “This place is
full
of them, and I plan on acting out on those fantasies every chance I get.”

His hands slide up my arms and over my chest, and I blush as he cups my breasts through my shirt, his thumbs magically finding
right
where my nipples are. “Amongst other fantasies, of course.”

“You’re incorrigible,” I murmur, letting my eyes close.

“I don’t see you trying that hard,” his voice husks into my ear.

Suddenly he pulls away, and I pout as I turn to look up at him, “Tease. So what was this surprise you were just talking up?”

He grins, “Later, tonight after our parents are gone.” I wrinkle my nose and he snorts. “You know what I mean. After your mom and my dad head off for the UN thing in New York.”

He winks at me, and then he’s turning to head towards the door.

“Hey, wait a second,” I stand, still feeling the buzz of his hands on my breasts. “Where are you going? And what’s the surprise?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you now would it?” He arches his eyebrows at me and grins before he slips out the door.

The regular one, I notice.

* * *

I
still haven’t seen
or heard from him later that night, so I grab the secure phone he gave me and send a quick text.

The response is instant.

I jump as I hear the actual knock on the door to my rooms.

“Ms. Adams?” I open the door to a smiling older woman who I recognize as part of the general staff around the living quarters of the White House.

“Yes?”

She smiles at me. “The items you requested, miss.” She lifts the basket box in her hands.

“I—”

The phone buzzes in my hand.

I cough and look around, as if I’m going to see Hunter hiding somewhere nearby. But of course I don’t. I turn back to the woman and thank her as I take the box.

What? I don’t understand
any
of his directions, but something tells me I know Hunter well enough to know I’m going to get nothing else from him even if ask. I toss the phone on the bed and sit the box down before opening it.

The first thing I pull out is one of those fancy, bubble-bath bombs, and I grin just seeing it. The master bath of the Lincoln bedroom has this
massive
tub that I’ve been
dying
to try out and just haven’t yet. I furrow my brow as I smile, wondering how the heck Hunter even knows that.

Up next is a split bottle of a
very
nice vintage pinot, probably from the White House’s very own cellars, an opener, and a glass, with a note that just says “To sip while you soak.”

But it’s the next thing inside that catches my eye, and I bite my lip as I pull out the smaller, solid black box, wrapped in a black silk ribbon. I pull at the knot and slide the top off before I feel the flush creep up over my cheeks.

I’ve owned some nice lingerie, or at least I’d like to
thin
k I have. But the matching black lace set inside is like nothing I’ve ever even seen before. Sheer, sexy, and silky; darkly forbidden and erotic in that way that elicits a sensual response just looking at it. I note with a bush that the whole thing is entirely see-through, but then, you don’t wear something like this to be modest, you wear it to excite. The note inside the box reads: “To replace the ones I ripped. Best worn with heels.”

I grin, feeling the wicked glow start to creep through my body. I glance into the box this all came in to see one final package, this one smaller though also wrapped in black velvet ribbon.

The lingerie was exciting, but nothing prepares me for the throb of pure desire that thunders through my body when I slip open the box.

It’s a mask; a black, matte, demur mask,
exactly
like the ones from the night we met. It’s almost hot in my hands. An illicit tingle teases from my fingertips, up my arm, and into my body just from touching it. I’m wet instantly, and it’s almost sexual as I run my fingers over the edge of it.

I start to shrug my clothes off, feeling my blood pumping quickly as I nearly sprint to the bathroom and turn on the hot water.

* * *

T
he White House
is quiet at night, in that weird sort of empty way where you feel like everyone is off somewhere
you
should be but aren’t. I feel scandalous, like I’m trespassing or something in my own home.

Of course, part of that feeling might come from the fact that I’m slipping through empty hallways wearing a back knee-length trench coat, heels, and pretty much nothing else but the scandalously sexy lingerie Hunter sent me.

I feel like some sort of sexy spy, and honestly I have no idea why I’ve done
anything
in Hunter’s notes or texts. I don’t know why I have this compulsion to say “yes” to him, why I want to do things like walk basically naked down the hallways of the White House late at night.

It feels as though I’m on my way to some sort of wicked, passionate affair. Like I’m some sort of mistress of something, stalking down the hallowed halls of this house trailing scandal in my wake.

Which, honestly, is sort of what this is, even if I don’t really know what to label it.

I slip into the Jackson office, empty of course, and pause in the semi-darkness of the dim room as I stare at the bookcase that could, and would, lead me to him. I know the book to pull, and the code to punch in, and even how many feet to walk in the dark that lies beyond it to get to him.

But I pause.

I take a shaky breath in the dark of the room, knowing full well what continuing means. Leaving right now is also an option: running back to my room, and pretending I never agreed to this is a path I
could
choose right now.

Until I walk through that door, I still have the option to walk away from this madness. I still have the
choice
to step away and leave this crazy affair exactly where it is.

I could walk away from Hunter right now, and let the chips fall where they will.

I breathe, staring right at the copy of “A Moveable Feast” sitting there on the shelf, hiding the keypad. I know exactly where the next step leads. I know that taking that next step and putting one foot in front of the other puts me one step closer to falling.

It puts me one step closer to admitting that this is so much more than just “having fun”, or “experimenting”.

I pull the book and punch the code, and the bookcase swings open.

This is it,
I think to myself, feeling the shiver run through me as I step into the dark passageway.

There’s no turning back here. With every step, my chance for escape and chance to convince myself that this is some experiment, or some sort of fling, slips further away.

This is real, and this is happening. Because the reality is that every step down this dark hallway takes me exactly where I want to be.

I push the door at the end of the hallway open, and suddenly I’m gasping at the sight that awaits me.

The entire damn Oval Office is lit up with
candles
; easily a hundred of them. The glow flickers across the room like firelight, glinting off framed pictures and casting shadows across the storied, historic room. I step into the office and close the door behind me, and it’s then that I lock eyes with Hunter.

He’s dressed in dark black pants and a crisp white linen shirt, open at the neck. He grins and stands as I enter, and I blush as I feel his eyes roam over me.

“You came.”

My jaw drops, and my eyes go wide as I
stare
, taking in the transformation of the room from strict and formal to an unbelievably romantic scene. I mean,
candles
; holy shit.

“I—” I take a breath as I take in the glowing magic of the room around me. “I never
imagined
this room could look—”

“Romantic?”

I grin as he steps out from behind the desk and winks at me.

“How did you even pull this off?”

He chuckles, “I was on the Secret Service and I’m the new crown prince of the White House.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So?”

He grins. “And I told Chris who’s on duty and owes me a favor that I wanted to bring a girl in here.”

My jaw drops and I stare wide-eyed at him. “You
TOLD
him?!”

Hunter laughs as he moves closer to me, slinking towards me like some sort of jungle cat stalking his prey. “I didn’t tell him it was
you
, obviously.”

He’s right in front of me then, and his eye blaze into mine as his hand come up to rest on my hips. “You look fucking incredible, by the way.”

I blush. “Coat and all, huh?”

He moves right against me, his hands moving across the tie at the front of my coat to the knot holding it shut. “I’m more interested in what’s underneath, actually.”