Page 51 of When Sinners Hate
Another round of cheers come from behind us, breaking the moment. “Is there anything you actually like doing?” I ask.
“Oh, we’re moving on from that conversation, are we?”
“We are. How about the theatre?” I get up and head to the bar, beckoning her and sliding some cash across to the barkeep for the tab we’ve created.
“Movie or performance?” she asks.
“Performance.”
She smiles, near laughs. “You like going to the theatre?”
“Possibly.”
“What does that mean?”
I grab her hand and tow her out of the place until we’re on the dirty sidewalk and watching the world go by. “It means I don’t know. I’ve never been.”
“Never?”
“No. It’s not a place a man like me goes. Take me.”
“Okay. What’s the time?”
I check my watch. “Six.”
“Have you brought a tux?” My brow arches. “Of course you haven’t. And I can’t go like this either. We’ll need clothes.”
I get my wallet out and hold out a new version of the AMEX she trashed. “You'll need this then.”
Her face immediately turns suspicious, chin up in the air. “I told you I don't want or need your money.”
“You think I don't know that? Stop with the bitching. This isn't an argument. This is the way I treat my wife. Accept it.” She's still revving herself up for a fight, and I don't blame her after the last time we discussed money. “Lexi. Cool your tongue right down. Don't spoil this. You're not gonna like the way it turns out for you, and I was enjoying the peace.”
That half sneer might still be hovering, but she relents and takes it from my fingers. “Okay,” she says, looking along the street. “Fine. Let’s go shopping then.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LEXI
“So?”
“So, what?” He looks at me as if I asked a hard question.
“You’ve barely talked since leaving the theatre. Did you enjoy it? I have to say, for a man like you, you fitted in quite well in your tux.” He takes my arm and leads me through the hotel lobby to the elevator.
“It was … pleasant.”
I don’t answer and wonder, again, what the hell today is all about. Honesty, looking behind the facade, but Abel seems to pick and choose what his interpretation of that is.
We arrive back at the penthouse room he’s booked, and I walk through, throwing the bejewelled clutch onto the bed. “Do you want to elaborate on pleasant?” I toss back the question, disappointed that he refuses to open up.
“Today isn’t about me. It’s about you.” His hands grab my shoulders and push the thin straps of my dress down. His eyes are dark, swimming with desire, and that alone is enough to raise my heartbeat.
So far, sex has been a punishment or a way to put me in my place. It doesn’t feel like this now, and I both hate and love the feeling simmering through me.
He twists me and crashes his lips against mine. My arms rise to wrap around him, but he keeps them down by my side with his hands. The kiss deepens and with it, the pull for this to go harder … faster.
His hands run down my arms and pull them behind my back, securing me in place. My instinct is to struggle, but I fight it back down, wanting to feel how Abel might treat me tonight.