Page 13 of Protected By the Sinner

This time, I’m not trying to provoke him—I’m just afraid I’m not a good enough liar.

He seems to take it as a game and lightly brushes his fingertips along my arm. I shiver, wishing he’d keep going, but instead, I pull away.

It’s useless because he wraps his fingers around my wrist. “Are you trying to make me curious, Amber?”

“Am I succeeding, Mr. LeBlanc?”

“Do you have any idea what it means to catch the attention of a man like me?”

How can something he says scare and arouse me at the same time?

I wish I could ask him,Who are you, Beau? Why did they need me to get close to you?

A wave of unease rolls through me, even though I know my loyalty should never lie with a stranger I know nothing about.

“Are you telling me you’re a dangerous man, Mr. LeBlanc?”

The waitress returns with the drink, then quickly vanishes.

He hands me the glass and, once again, ignores my previous question. “Try it.” His commanding tone both irritates and excites me.

“Are you always this bossy?”

“Much worse. I’m being nice since we just met.”

I’m shaking as I lift the glass to my lips. His next words make it even harder to breathe:

“Look at me while you drink. I want your eyes on mine the moment the champagne hits your tongue.”

God. The man is intense. I don’t stand a chance against him.

I take a small sip and pray he doesn’t notice my hand trembling. I can’t blow my cover now.

“Good?”

“Yes.” I take a breath, bracing myself to dive deeper into this role. “Want a taste?”

I kneel, my mouth inches from his. I could get closer, but something tells me Beau likes to lead.

His movements are slow, building up a cocktail of anxiety and desire inside me. When I finally feel his hand in my hair, it’s so good I forget this whole thing is a lie.

Without meaning to, I tilt my head back. I want him to kiss me, no matter why I’m here tonight.

As if he enjoys seeing me so undone, his grip tightens, and I realize I like the roughness.

My eyes are half-closed because I want to see as well as feel the moment our lips meet. And when it happens, it’s like a storm tearing through me.

I suck on his tongue the way he does mine, mimicking him, desperate for more. Heat rushes to the center of my thighs, a pulsing ache that makes me want to climb on top of him just to find relief.

But then, just as I lose all sense of who I am, he pulls back.

“You were right. Delicious.”

I blink, stunned that he stopped. And only when he stands and offers me his hand do I snap back into character.

“But now I remember you mentioned something about having fun. Show me what you like, Amber.”

That’s a great question.