Fleeting Impressions | J.M.

13: hiding out with a crown

Once back in the car, I can't keep my hands off James. And it seems, neither can he. Sebastian seems to be driving somewhere, I'm not too sure, I'm too far gone in the eyes of a criminal mastermind. His chocolate depths draw me in before he ravishes my lips again.

His hands roam my sides while mine cling to his back for dear life. I'm practically smashed into the seat under me but at the moment I can't seem to care.

The Irish mans face slants over mine, his tongue exploring my mouth with vigor. James isn't one to mess around, and I always get what I want. There was no hesitation when we sat down, just pouncing and wondering hands and clashing teeth.

His breath smells minty from the gum and I swear I can still taste it on his tongue. He lets out a low growl when I finally get my legs wrapped around his middle. I need him as close as possible. My heart won't stop beating erratically and when I position my hand over his chest, his feels the same way. The beat drums over my finger tips and I fist his shirt.

Just as I need to take a break to breathe for the first time, James relents, but his lips never leave. His mouth slides down my face to the soft skin of my neck where he sucks harshly. My panting and gentle moans are the only noise in the cramped cabin.

When he finishes his work on my neck he makes his way back up, giving me a single sweet peck on the lips.

"Now if anyone questions whether you are mine or not, they not only will see your crown, but my mark as well," he licks at the hickey he gave me before nipping at it. I jump from the sudden pain.

"I have somewhere we can stay for the night before driving all the way back to your house. Is that okay?" He breaths by my ear, toying with the hem of my t-shirt.

I hum in response and hug him close to me. At last, my chest seems to slow down since I walked out of the Tower of London. The adrenaline leaving my body.

This has got to be the best night of my life.

Sebastian pulls up to an abandoned warehouse somewhere in central London. I know we can't be that far from the Tower still.

James gets out first and holds his hand out, waiting for me. And I step out and grip his hand while holding the crown in the other one.

"This is where we are staying," I ask a little uncertainly, gazing up at the plain structure filled with cracks and broken glass.

It brings back the memory of me smashing through the bullet proof case and I smile inwardly.

James tugs me forward. "Not everything is based on appearances," are his cryptic words.

We walk through the empty halls, James in front and Sebastian taking up the rear.

Soon we reach a door, one that James has to unlock. I will never admit it out loud, but I am impressed about what is inside. Not lavish, but livable. A couch in the far corner covered in red velvet, a four poster bed, a small kitchenette with a mini fridge and white lighting fill the space. Obviously not furnished by an interior designer, I mean the colors are all wrong, reds mixed with the grey and black of the room and the cream and green comforter. Why do I have a feeling either one of the men beside me decorated it? I'm going to bet on Sebastian.

"This is our hide out," James steps in first, arms wide out likes he's presenting a palace. I smile at his antics.

"Seb," James snaps to his friend. "You get the couch."

"Sorry, did you two usually sleep together," I voice looking at Sebastian's less that pleased face. I hold back a snicker.

After we settled in, James letting me change into his t-shirt since it was bigger than mine, and me watching the boys undress. I mean, I didn't think much of Sebastian before, but once I seen those abs, it was a different story.

I wolf whistled at the two and James almost tackled me to the mattress, trying to close my eyes. It's not my fault they are both attractive. Sebastian just grumbled and sat down on the couch. I have a feeling he doesn't like me much.

"Can we watch some telly," I ask James while cuddled into his side. There's an entire queen sized bed and instead of utilizing the space, I am practically on top of my Irish man in the middle of the bed. On my lap lies the crown. I haven't been able to let go of it yet.

Sebastian gets up to turn it on, handing us the remote before laying back down. I thank him and throw a pillow and blanket to him so he can get comfortable.

I forgot to say 'catch' but oh well. He's got assassin reflexes. No harm done.

A lady on the telly starts talking, and I almost switch channels until I see what is actually on the screen in front of me. It's a news broadcast channel, the featuring story is the Crown Jewels. Missing, obviously, is the crown.

"A thief, earlier tonight, snuck into the Tower of London and stole a critical piece of the Crown Jewels right from under the noses of security. Scotland Yard is on the scene. Could this be another strike from the criminal mastermind: James Moriarty. Or, is there a copycat thief on the loose?"

I tune out the lady, zeroing in on the crown in my lap, my fingers drift over the Jewels. The line of pearls bumps under my finger tips and the white fur is silky. The best quality for the queen.

And I have it.

I don't get a chance to decide if I feel guilty or not as I am sucked out of my own bubble by what the woman says next.

"Whoever it is better turn themselves in soon, non other than Sherlock Holmes has been enlisted on this case. London, be rest assured that the culprit will be behind bars soon." And she finally cuts off.

"Well shit," I sigh. Defeated.