Page 17 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

Los Angeles – California

The Next Day

I think most girls dream of having their Cinderella moment. That one day when a fairy godmother shows up to grant her wish for a perfect night.

In my case, the chances of that ever happening were almost nonexistent, but when we arrived at Beau’s mansion in Los Angeles yesterday, I realized maybe that day had finally come.

He said goodbye, telling me he had a meeting, and I haven’t seen him since. When I woke up this morning, there was a note saying a full team would come take care of me. Not just a stylist but a hairdresser and spa staff. Full VIP treatment.

I got a massage, a hair treatment, a manicure, and finally, the least pleasant part: a full wax. The professional even suggested leaving me as bare as the day I was born, but I shut that down with a firm “no, thanks.”

The result turned out great, but I don’t plan on going through that kind of torture again anytime soon.

Now I’m in this huge suite—just like the one in the Dallas apartment—exclusively mine, with a woman named René trying to convince me to wear a dress that, apparently, will leave me practically naked.

I mean, I don’t mind short clothes or low necklines. Even the outfit I wore when I met Beau was over the top for my standards, but we were in a club. It was dark.

This party tonight, however—if I understood correctly—is going to be brightly lit, with the press in attendance.

It’s a movie premiere for a film Beau is producing. Actually, he owns a multimedia entertainment company that produces and funds movies, theater plays, and Broadway shows.

I just found out the stylist standing in front of me knows more about his life than I do.

But what do his businesses have to do with me? Aside from the fact that, at least in theory, being by his side means I’ll be protected—or less in danger, maybe—what matters to me about Beau isn’t his material wealth. It’s how he makes my brain and body lose control with a single kiss.

I look at the two outfits she picked out for me but can’t make up my mind.

“I’d go with the nude one, Amber. You’ll be the most envied woman there.”

Her words give me butterflies. I haven’t put myself out there in years.

I called Elodie, and she confirmed that it’s dangerous to go out in public, especially at an event that’ll get media attention.

On the other hand, being with someone like Beau might make the men who kidnapped my sister back off, at least for a while.

As for the lunatics who raised us, we don’t have to worry much. Inside the compound where the cult members live, no one uses any kind of technology. But regarding the elders who live outside, Elodie said they have too much to hide to risk exposure by coming after me.

I force myself back to the present and glance at the dress she’s suggesting. “I’ll try it on again.”

“Good idea. We’re running late anyway. Mr. LeBlanc doesn’t like to wait.”

I take off the robe, left in only my panties, silk stockings, and garter belt. I’m not ashamed of my body. Even though our father raised us with strict rules, my mom always said we should love every inch of what God gave us.

“You’re every stylist’s dream.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve got everything in the right place. Long legs, curves where they should be, nothing in excess.”

I look at myself in the mirror as she helps me into the dress. Is that how Beau sees me too? He must date gorgeous women.

“I’d put your hair up. It’s more elegant.”

“No, I prefer it down. Anything in my hair gives me a headache.”

She zips up the back, and I take a long look at myself.

It really is beautiful. It fits like a second skin. Even though it has two straps, one hangs off the shoulder. The stylist said it’s supposed to be that way.

The round neckline hits at the chest but is actually quite modest. The dress hugs my waist, and the skirt flares out at the hips.

What really makes me hesitate is the slit that runs from the foot almost up to my underwear.

“Trust me when I say this is the dress, Amber. With your golden skin and that amazing hair, you’re going to have men drooling.”

“Even Beau?” I ask, insecure. He’s the only one I want to impress. Elodie and I have always caught male attention, but I never trusted anyone enough to let them get too close.

“Especially him.” She steps back and gives me a critical once-over. “The makeup artist did a great job too, not covering your eyes with heavy mascara or using those trendy fake lashes. You look flawless and natural.”

“You’re great for my self-esteem. Fine. I’ll wear this one.”

Half an hour later

I step out to meet him, trying to keep René’s words in mind and not think about how many times Beau’s probably done this before: escorting a woman on his arm to an event.

Why should I care about the past? I’m going to live my princess moment. Most likely, in a few weeks, we’ll go our separate ways and never see each other again.

I’m not even sure where I’ll go afterward, because even though the original plan with Elodie was to leave the country, it hasn’t escaped me that my sister seems pretty attached to that Giancarlo guy.

What does that even mean?

Before my mind can keep spinning down the road of an uncertain future, I see Beau standing at the end of the hallway.

My heart races, and my hands go cold with sweat.

The closer I get, the more I feel the weight of his gaze on me, and he doesn’t have to say a word. His look alone tells me he approves of the dress, because he seems ready to devour me. He doesn’t move, which only makes me more anxious and annoyed by his self-control.

He looks the part: every inch the billionaire. The black tux hugs his frame perfectly, no doubt tailored to him.

Beau is sexy and so damn masculine he takes my breath away. I don’t even try to hide my desire. My nipples harden against the fabric of the dress.

He says nothing but walks the remaining steps toward me.

His gaze trails over my entire body, and I swear to God, wherever it lands, I feel touched—caressed.

“René said the dress was appropriate for the event,” I say, trying to sound confident.

He takes my hand and spins me, probably to make sure the dress is sitting right.

When I face him again, he brushes my hair away from my face.

I see his head dip closer, and I part my lips to welcome him.

He barely kisses me, but I need more than that. Forgetting we’re supposed to be heading to a party, I grab the lapels of his tux and pull him in.

My body molds to his wall of muscle. I press my nipples against him shamelessly. I need the friction because his tongue in my mouth is making my need spiral.

He pushes me against the wall and lifts one thigh to his waist. My tiny panties do nothing to protect me from the hardness of his cock. He grinds against me, letting me feel every inch. I moan, desperate for us to be rid of these clothes.

“I want to fuck you right now, but I’m not going to. Because once I start, I won’t stop.”

As if to remind us we’re late, we hear a door slam. It’s probably one of the bodyguards getting into position, or maybe Roman, the head of security, and the guy I instantly disliked.

I don’t move. I love being in his arms too much to be the one to pull away.

He gives me one last kiss and whispers in my ear, “Later.”

The promise in those two words makes me wish we weren’t going anywhere at all.

But I force myself to match his self-control.

“We’ll see,” I reply.