Page 74 of Liberated By Sin

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Page 74 of Liberated By Sin

“I’m an expert at cruelty. Don’t tempt me.”

“Yeah?”

His hold tightened, and I sensed his intentions.

“Santino.”

“I love it when you say my name. But I love it even more when you scream it.”

Water swirled in my ears when he submerged us both, allowing our bodies to drift for several seconds before breaking the surface and bursting into laughter.

With my hair plastered over my eyes, I arched back and dipped my head again, smoothing the wet curls from my face.

“You’re dead,” I squeaked, scooping water into my hand and splashing him.

He trudged farther where I knew it was well over my head, and I suddenly remembered I’d never been a strong swimmer. I clutched onto his wet shirt and buried my face into his neck.

“Santi, don’t let go, please. I can’t swim.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He kissed my forehead and walked us back toward the shore, guilt souring his handsome features.

“It’s okay,” I assured him with a smile before slapping another handful of water into his face. I hadn’t meant for him to swallow it and choke, but I was too busy laughing to feel torn up, so I wriggled free and ran for the shore. When he caught me, we tumbled to the sand.

“I’m sorry.” I laid on the innocent tone, making him hesitate for a moment, but he grinned and flipped us over, pinning me to the sand, his muscular body over mine.

“I don’t think you are. Not even a little.”

“You’re right,” I said, pushing back dripping hair strands from his forehead. “What are you going to do about it?”

Santino pitched closer, brushing my lips. “Everything.”

I could barely take a breath before he crushed my mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue caressed mine, teeth catching my bottom lip. Sand particles smeared over our skin as I ran my hand along his back and into his hair, fisting his shirt and rocking my hips. Maybe waiting until we were home was out of the question; I wanted him right here, right at this moment. And I knew I wasn’t alone in my desire.

Santino thrust into me and groaned into my ear. “Tell me to stop, Amara, or I’ll take you here on this fucking beach.”

Was I capable? Or better yet, was I capable of saying no? One time with this man was all it took, and I was hooked.

“This is crazy,” I whispered, ripping open his shirt.

A crooked grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as I stuck out my tongue and caught a droplet of water that had rolled over his lip and trickled over me.

“I suddenly love crazy.” He dipped to kiss me again, but before our lips made contact, a shrill scream startled us, piercing the once peaceful night air.

31

Twowomen ran past us, one crying and the other attempting to console her, but both were visibly shaken by whatever they’d seen. Santino pulled me to my feet as a small group gathered near the shoreline several yards ahead.

“What do you think is going on?”

He shook his head and held my hand. “Nothing good.”

Had the commotion broken out anywhere else, we would have minded our business and kept moving, but this was practically Illusion’s backyard. What had rattled these people to screams and tears certainly seemed worth investigating.

The closer we got, the louder the cries and unintelligible chatter. A group of young men had pulled out their phones, some snapping pictures while others recorded or live-streamed.

“Santino,” I gasped when I saw a bloody foot with ashen skin still attached to a six-inch heel.




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