Page 29 of Protected By the Sinner

When her tremors fade, our eyes lock. I gave her an orgasm, but it felt almost as good as coming myself.

She gasps, looking confused, probably as confused as I am right now. This connection after is not what I want, but it’s not what helps me make my next decision.

I dress her again, not bothering with the panties.

“Good night, Amber.”

I leave the room before I lose control.

I want her too much. I momentarily forgot that she got close to me for a reason I don’t know.

I’ve never been the kind of man to have vices, but I may have just found one.

Chapter 12

The Next Day

Beau must have left really early. Way before I woke up.

Did he not want to see me?

The way we parted yesterday was way too weird. But what do I know about what happens between a couple?

I look around the all-white apartment. Now I get why he brought me here.

The place is completely barren. Nothing personal about it.

No picture frames. No souvenirs. Nothing.

Sure, it screams luxury. Everything looks expensive but also cold. And from what I’ve seen of Beau so far, I’m pretty sure he paid a decorator to do whatever they wanted.

Maybe we’re more alike than I first thought.

He said he doesn’t like hotels, and maybe that’s because of security. I did notice yesterday, on the way here, that there were cars escorting us.

But in reality, this place is a hotel.

A very luxurious one, pricey—but still a hotel.

I’ve looked around, trying to find anything that might tell me more about him, but so far, I’ve found nothing.

I sit in the living room, staring at my hands, trying to organize my thoughts.

How the hell did I end up here?

Elodie and I were planning to move again, this time out of the country, to somewhere in Europe, probably, to start over for good.

And then, one day, just over a week ago, my sister simply didn’t come home.

Just like that. No warning. Someone took her away from me.

For the first forty-eight hours, I didn’t eat or sleep. I couldn’t, not until I had news about my Elodie. I thought maybe our childhood tormentors had finally found us, until I got the first call with instructions.

Then came the clothes I was supposed to wear—no doubt left about the kind of role I was expected to play. And then, that horrible man wanted to see me.

My stomach turns at the memory of our encounter. He didn’t touch me, but he didn’t hide the fact that he wanted to.

I sigh, exhausted by life. I’m only twenty-five, and I know so much and yet nothing at all about the world. My experiences mostly involve running from perverted psychos.