Sinner(68)

“Yes I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“He’s nice,” I say, almost trying to convince myself more than him.

Rowan leans close. “You don’t want nice.”

“Yes, I do.”

His eyes hold mine for a second before he suddenly stands, grabbing my arm and pulling me up with him.

“Um, excuse me? Where are we going?”

“I’m going to prove you wrong.” He pulls me through the restaurant towards the back.

“I can’t just leave in the middle of a date!”

“Yes, you can.”

He pulls us through the back hallway of the restaurant and kicks open the back door. He pulls me out, heading towards his bike parked at the corner.

“Rowan, where are-”

I gasp as he whirls and kisses me.

He kisses me hungrily, punishingly, fiercely — taking the breath from my lungs and sending me reeling before he pulls away.

“You-” I touch my lips, glancing around. “You can’t just kiss me.”

“Yes I can.”

“It’s wrong, Rowan,” I say quietly.

“Is it?”

I moan as he kisses me again, and this time, my hands find his shirt and pull him tight against me. This time, I open my lips for his tongue, tasting him, melting into him.

Slowly, he pulls away.

“That feel wrong to you?”

“I- I’m, not sure,” I whisper, my eyes slowly opening to look up at him.

“Maybe we should do it again, just to make sure.”

I nod, my eyes locked onto his. “Yeah, that- we should do-”

My words fail as he kisses me again, his strong arms wrapping around me and pulling me tightly into him as his groans vibrate into my lips. His hand moves over my waist, pulling me tight, pressing me against his bike behind me.

“We can’t do this here,” I whisper, glancing around again even though the back street is empty.

“Then we should go someplace else.”

I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t go anywhere with him. But suddenly, I’m thinking of Milton’s words and his nauseating opinions on my purity.

And I want to scream.

I want to rage at my father, and at Milton, and at anything else that imposes it’s own beliefs over what is mine, and not theirs.

My purity is mine, to give to whom I want to.

And suddenly the last of my resistant, the last of my worrying about what I’m doing with Rowan Hammond slips away, and I nod.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Take me somewhere.” I shiver, knowing what that means to a man like him and wanting it so badly.

“Please take me somewhere.”





Chapter Thirty-Three





Rowan




This is an obsession.

It’s a raw need, an unavoidable addiction — something that pulls at every fucking piece of me.

It’s like I have to have her.

Eva’s arms grip me tight as I roar us out of town, out towards the breakers on the edge of the harbor.

I shouldn’t be taking her here. I shouldn’t be taking her anywhere, and I know that. I know what this leads to, and it’s nothing good.

I should forget about her. I should leave her to her nice candle-lit dinners with nice, good, churchly guys who her father approves of.

I should forget about the way her lips taste, or the way her breath catches when I kiss them. I should forget about the way her body moves and shivers so sweetly when I run my hands over her skin — the way her legs spread, the way her moans drip like honey in my ears when I put my tongue on her.

I should be forgetting all those things, but there’s no way in hell that’s happening.

Leaving the restaurant with her was a mistake. Having her ditch Milton back there was a mistake. Ever getting involved with her was mistake.

Except I do not even fucking care at this point, because being with her, taking her, and making her come is the only thing I want. It’s this obsessive roar in my ears. It’s the undeniable urge every time I even think of her.

My angel.

The bike comes to a stop at the edge of the sand dunes off the breakers, the ocean stretching grey and rolling in the sunset. I turn the engine off and kick down the stand.

“It’s beautiful,” Eva whispers as she pulls the helmet from her head.

“Better than Bible study with Milton?”

She gives me a look, but she smiles and nods. “Yes.”

I take her hand, helping her off the bike and grabbing a blanket from my side bag. She sees it, and her cheeks go red, but when her eyes dart to mine I see the hunger there.

No more fucking around.

No more tiptoeing.

I need to have her, and I can tell by that look in her eyes she feels the same.

We’re barely at the sand when she’s instantly in my arms — kissing me wildly, pulling the blanket from my hands and tossing it down onto the sand.