Page 67 of A Taste like Sin

make the judgment the facts demanded.”

“The jury convicted him,” I point out. “My father would have upheld it. He wouldn’t overrule a guilty

verdict.”

“I have the case files,” he says. “I’ll let you read them.”

And in some ways, it’s a more terrifying prospect than having him try to convince me on his own.

More words. More exposed lies. Can I handle them?

“But not tonight. I’ve humored you enough. You need to eat. I’m taking you to dinner.”

“Oh?” I incline my head to view him from over my shoulder. “Is that a command?”

“No.” His lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Think of it as more of a request. A stern request in the

interest of your welfare. And some selfishness as well. We need to discuss what happened last night.”

“Hmm?” I feign ignorance. “About the storm?”

He smiles for real, but there’s no warmth in it. An intensity wafts from him instead, more unnerving

than his polished, suave charm. “I’d prefer to discuss the sex, if you don’t mind.”

I cough, clearing my throat. “I—”

“I would like to extend our arrangement as well,” he says over me. “In case you thought I desired only

your virginity.”

“You don’t?” I ask hoarsely. “I mean…you didn’t?”

“Sí.” He frowns, stroking his chin with the tip of his thumb. “It seems I desire more when it comes to

you than initially anticipated.”

“Like what?”

“Well…” He circles my position, allowing one of his hands to molest a budding flower as he goes.

“I’d very much like to feel my cock inside of you again, for one.”

“Oh?” I squeak as fire sears my cheeks. “How bold of you to say, Mr. Villa.”

“Sí.” He takes another step in my direction. “Bold. As is the fact that I know you enjoyed feeling said

cock inside of you. In fact…” He’s close enough now to cup my cheek with his palm, tilting my face

into his touch. “I believe I’ve discovered a more enticing conquest than your innocence.”

A second’s pause is my cue to reply.

“W-What?”

“Your fear of the dark.” His nostrils flare as if chasing that elusive prize. “Oh,sí, I want to take it,” he

tells me. “Own it. Shape it. You will never hear another thunderstorm without thinking of me.”