Page 79 of When Sinners Hate
“That’s a definite. You can get lost straight into the back of one of our trucks. Plenty of women do.”
“Lowering the tone, are we?” she questions, lifting her glass of Champagne to drink.
“You're more than aware that it doesn't get much lower than me.”
“Well, there’s low, and then there’s low with class. I think you’re the latter.” I stare, watching the way she seems relatively at ease with what I am under this suit and expensive finery. “Besides, I like your low. It’s honest. No hiding anything. No pretending.” She blushes. A real honest blush that seems like it’s come out of nowhere.
“I’d like to know what that thought was.”
She chuckles and looks at the table. “Where’s the menu?”
“There isn’t one.”
“None?”
“No. You take what you’re given.” I lean forward, more interested in what that damn thought was than any food that might be coming. “What made you blush?”
“Blush? Me? I don’t blush.”
“You just did. Sexiest damn thing you’ve done since we met. Give it up.”
She laughs and swings her legs back and forth, amused at my insistence. “No. You’ll have to wait. I think you probably need to wait every now and then anyway. Talk me through your day, husband. I want all the nasty little details.”
“You want me talking about this now?”
“Yes. I want to know everything. Every morsel. Make it dirty and I might just show you what made me blush later.”
So, I lean back again and drink some Champagne, then start talking her through exactly what I’ve been doing. She gets it all, as honestly and truthfully and dirtily as I can give. She gets to know about the redhead and her attempt at flirting with me, and about how many women we’re about to make some profit from and what each one was like. No hiding it. No pretending about any of it either. The only thing I don’t talk about is her father, and that’s because I still don’t know what I want to do about him and she doesn’t need to think about him either. That’s for another time. Now isn’t it. Now is for flirting and getting to knoweach other some more. Later, it’s gonna be about a whole lot of fucking. Probably involving forced orgasms and begging.
CHAPTER TWENTY - SIX
LEXI
Istretch, and a delicious ache heats my body as I do, a reminder of Abel’s more generous side from last night.
The bed is empty, my husband missing, and, surprisingly, I’m a touch disappointed. After the emotional connection he drew, no, forced from me, I now find myself craving that connection.
I look around the dark room and tune in to hear the shower. I could go and interrupt, but my body has other ideas and stays motionless in the bed. My apartment back in San Diego is, or was, nothing like this place. It was full of light. Whereas Abel’s is full of dark. Stylish, yes, but it’s not a home. I wrap my mind around the word and consider it for a long moment. After all, a home isn’t something I’ve been familiar with, but in my heart, I feel it should be something comforting and warm as well as elegant and sophisticated. A balancing act, for sure.
The shower stops, and a few moments later, he comes out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips. A tantalising vision, and a tempting one, despite my sated body.
As he approaches me, I peel the covers back and knee-walk to the end of the bed.
“I could get used to this,” I purr, my eyes eating up the view.
“I like that comment coming from your lips.” He bends to seal his words with a kiss, sending a hum of satisfaction through me.
“Mmm. Good. As you seem to be in a good mood, I want to ask you something.”
He steps away and heads to the dresser on the other side of the room, dropping the towel. “Go on.”
“This house. I’m here now, and my things are here, but I’d like to put my own mark on it.”
He doesn’t seem interested in the conversation topic and continues to dress. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, it’s very masculine. It’s stunning, but what would you say to a splash of Lexi?” I dramatically fall back onto the bed and spread out.
He turns to look, and I smile at him, letting his gaze take its fill of me draped over his dark sheets.