Sinner(53)

“Holy fuck,” he gasps.

“Oh my God,” I giggle, holding up my hand to look at it.

“I warned you.”

I laugh. “You did.”

“Here, use this.” He reaches for his shirt.

“Hang on, let me just…”

I know it’s dirty.

I know it’s beyond filthy.

I know it’s the only thing I want to do right now.

I bring my hand to my lips, and I lick one of my fingers.

His eyes flare, and his jaw goes tight.

I smile coyly.

Coyly; me.

When the heck did I even learn to smile coyly?

“You are full of surprises,” he murmurs.

“Maybe I am.”

“Well maybe we should find out some more.”

I bite my lip. “Here?”

“Yeah, right here,” he growls, his fingers sliding back into me. I moan.

A light goes on in the house, and I feel my heart jump into my throat.

“Shit!”

“Here.” He gives me the shirt, which I use to quickly wipe my belly and my hand. I grab my own shirt, yank it down and straightening my bra before I quickly button my jeans.

I slide into my own side of the car, instantly missing the heat of his skin, the feel of his hands and lips. I start to open the door, when I stop and turn back.

“Thanks for the lesson,” I say quietly, grinning.

“Anytime, angel.”





Chapter Twenty-Four





Evangeline




My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I pace the floor of my bedroom again and again. My pulse races, and I want to blame it on the fact that I just snuck back into my house at twelve-thirty in the morning, past my sleeping parents, but I know that’s barely a blip on the radar.

Not compared to what I just did before that.

I can still feel his hands on me, his lips on my skin. I can feel the heat still lingering between my thighs where his fingers slid inside of me — a wetness still there like a little reminder of what I’ve just done. I can still feel his…his cum, on my belly, even after wiping it off.

I want to say I feel dirty, but that’s not the right word at all.

I feel sexy.

I feel alive.

And I want more.

It’s a terrible thought. It’s…wickedness. I swallow, my heart still beating a mile a minute as I make another turn and pace the room again. This time, my eyes land on the book lying on my bedside table.

A Bible.

I didn’t put it there, and it wasn’t there earlier. I swallow again, knowing that Chastity probably stuck it there like some sort of ominous warning.

A warning that I’ve been bad.

Really, really bad.

But that’s not the worst part, because the worst part is that I think I might like being bad.

At least, I like being bad with Rowan.

I shiver as I pull my clothes off and pad into the bathroom to shower — to wash the traces of my trespass from my body.

Sleep comes fitfully, and full of wicked thoughts of him.

God help me.



“You were in late.”

I glance up from my coffee. My father is looking at me intently, the paper open in front of him.

“Oh, yeah, time got away from me.”

I glance past him to my mother, who’s cooking eggs behind him in the kitchen area.

“A bit too late, Eva,” he says sharply.

Right, because I should have a curfew at the age of twenty-one.

“I heard you walking past our room after twelve-thirty.”

I freeze, mentally trying to figure out which end of the house faces the street where…

Well, where last night happened.

I look back at my coffee but not before I catch a glaring look from Chastity.

“Yeah, Sierra’s book group went late.”

“Hmm.” My father glances back at his paper, and lasers practically shoot out of Chastity’s eyes.

“Chastity was in before you.”

My heart does a flip-flop. “Yeah, I was going to come home with her, but-” My father is still eying the paper, and I shoot Chastity a quick look. “But we went to a late place for some food because we were so hungry.”

My father’s face sours. “Sounds awful.”

“No, it was fun.” I quickly cover the lie with a sip of coffee. “I was thinking about checking out the downtown area today.”

The Grace Church of Salvation and Divine Retribution and its vague Protestant lineage believes Saturday is a day of rest. Which means no volunteer work at the Center today, even for a man as driven as my father.

He nods, reading the paper and saying nothing.

In the back of my mind, there’s the pulsing, nagging feeling of lying — of sitting here lying to my parents.

And Chastity knows it.

“Okay, well, I think I’ll get going.”

“Oh, don’t you want some eggs?”

No because if I sit here another moment I’ll turn into a pillar of salt or, burn up or something.