Page 49 of Protected By the Sinner

Even though I’m hoping to resolve the situation with Angelo soon, I don’t leave loose ends. That’s not who I am.

The office door opens, and the woman who, whether I allow it or not, has taken up far too much space in my thoughts, walks in, her spectacular body wrapped in a tiny white dress, endless legs on display.

There’s nothing left to the imagination with that outfit, but she doesn’t seem even slightly concerned about it. Her confidence is insanely sexy.

“Done talking?” I ask.

She walks over and sits on my lap. “How do you know I was talking?”

I nod toward the monitor.

“You like watching me, Beau?” she whispers in my ear.

We’re not talking about the club’s cameras anymore.

“What if I said yes?”

“Then maybe I’ll be nice and give you a little show right now.”

This is our comfort zone—hers and mine. A space where we don’t have to go deep or dig into feelings neither of us wants.

I lift her and set her on my desk. I spread her thighs, and just the sight of her panties has me rock hard. “I’m very much in the mood for a show right now, gorgeous. Let me see what you’ve got.”

She gives me that wicked little smile that drives me insane and leans in to kiss me.

Chapter 21

New York

One week later

We’re lying in bed at one of my apartment-hotels, as she calls them, since she says they feel as impersonal as a commercial hotel suite.

The first few times I brought her along, she insisted on having her own room, and in a fucking twisted way, her insistence on putting up a wall between us pissed me off.

When I’d wake up in the middle of the night and she wasn’t with me, I’d go to whatever room she was sleeping in and bring her back—until she finally realized how pointless it was to force herself to wake up and run, because in the end, I’d always go after her anyway.

I think about what she said about the homes I keep around the world. Yeah, they are pretty impersonal. Just places to crash for a night or two, max.

What I haven’t told her is that I consider New Orleans my real home. And even now, I’ve avoided taking her there—like keeping one last wall up will help me protect a part of my life from this unplanned relationship.

How can two people who don’t trust or really know each other even call what they have a relationship?

“Tell me something about you,” I ask, maybe echoing the thought I just had.

“I don’t like talking about—”

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to hold back my irritation. “I got that part already, Amber. I mean anything. Not a secret, just something real.”

She lifts her head off my chest. “Anything?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“Maybe. But I want to hear it anyway.”

“God, you’re brutally honest.”