Page 18 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

She stayed silent the whole ride to the theater, where the premiere for my production company’s new release is happening.

At first, I thought it was because of what happened in the hallway at my place. But then I realized her silence is more likely due to nerves.

When I hired a team to get her ready for tonight’s event, I just did what I thought she’d like, but only when I saw her walking toward me did it hit me that maybe I overdid it.

I treated Amber the way I treat other women.

I usually don’t date anyone under thirty, because I prefer more experienced partners.

Her boldness that first night threw me off, but the more time we spend together, the more I see that, despite her naturally wild spirit, she’s still pretty raw when it comes to what a thing like this actually is.

A thing ? Is that the word she uses to label us? Because, frankly, I don’t know what the hell to call what we are.

I’ve never spent more than twenty-four hours beside a woman without having sex with her.

“I don’t like taking pictures,” she says, not looking at me.

“Where did that come from?”

“René told me there would be photographers everywhere.”

“They won’t get close. But if you don’t want to be photographed, just keep your head down. They won’t get a good angle.”

“I don’t care about good angles. I just want to see what it’s like to go to a party like this.”

If it were any other woman saying that, I’d think she was just being dramatic—but I get the feeling that for Amber, almost everything is new.

“We’re here, Mr. LeBlanc,” the driver says, parking in front of the red carpet.

“Oh, shit!” she blurts, then covers her mouth. “I mean, I thought it was a private party. This looks like the damn Oscars!”

“When we walk past them, just pretend you don’t see them. We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m hiding from the reporters for sure. But I’m wearing my Cinderella dress. We have to stay at least a little while. Please.”

I shrug. “Whatever you want.”

Despite what she said about enjoying the party in her Cinderella dress, Amber has stayed by my side the whole time. By now, I know enough about her to recognize when she’s putting on a front.

She’s held her chin high for most of the evening, like she’s daring someone to say she doesn’t belong here, but every time our eyes meet, I can see she’s scared.

I just want to get out of here. I really hate these events, but tonight I couldn’t avoid it.

“Had enough of your Cinderella night yet?”

“You’re ready to leave already?”

“I didn’t even want to come in the first place. But I’m expected to show up to at least one premiere a year.”

“What a sacrifice, Mr. Mogul.”

I pull her by the hips, drawing her closer. “You’re such a smartass, woman.”

“Not at all. I just don’t know anyone who complains about being rich.”

“No, I think you misunderstood. I like being rich. I just don’t like what comes with it.”

“Then hire CEOs, make up excuses. What’s stopping you? You own the place. Life’s too short to live it wrong. I wish I had choices.”

Our eyes lock, and I watch her cheeks flush pink.

She let her guard down without even noticing.

“Who took your choices from you, Amber?”

“No one.”

“Is that one of the lies you said you’d tell me if I asked about your past?”

“Yes. Besides, being around you is rubbing off on me, because I’ve decided—”

I’m paying close attention, but before she can finish, we’re interrupted.

“LeBlanc, what a surprise,” Gael Oviedo says, greeting us with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s an actor, of course—a good one, or he wouldn’t have been cast in one of my company’s films. But not good enough to hide that something serious is going on in his life right now.

“Gael, good to see you. How’s the family?” I ask, genuinely concerned. His father had two strokes a few years back. The Oviedos are good people.

“All good. Babies coming fast. My brothers decided to get married like we’d all caught some kind of love virus or something.” He turns his attention to Amber and, being who he is, takes her hand and brings it to his lips. “Gael Oviedo, Miss . . .?”

“Amber Martin,” she replies, completely different from her usual sassy tone. She seems intimidated.

I pull her closer to me in a not-so-subtle display of possession, and now Gael gives me a real smile.

“Congrats on the film,” she says.

“Thanks. I’ll leave you two alone now, or I might not make it to the end of the screening alive,” he jokes, giving her a wink.

Damn Spaniard.

“We can leave if you want,” Amber says.

“You sure? I thought you were having fun,” I tease.

She steps closer, clearly forgetting we’re in public, pressing our bodies together. “I’m sure. I’ve had more than I expected tonight. I’m ready to go if you are.”

I stare at her silently. She doesn’t flinch.

“Let’s go,” I say.

I beat the driver to the door and open it for her to get in without really understanding why I’m so pissed off.

Nothing happened. And besides, Amber’s not mine to be territorial over. Still, I feel a little unhinged.

As she sits down, the slit of her dress opens, revealing her long thigh.

Either she doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care, but I can’t ignore it. Needing to let out some of the wild mess of emotions I can’t seem to process, I fall back on what I know—sex—and let my hand rest on her bare skin.

She stiffens but doesn’t stop me. Instead, she turns her head and looks at me.

The sexual tension between us is suffocating. Her skin tingles beneath my fingers.

Whether consciously or not, her thighs part.

I check the divider between us and the driver—it’s up. Confirming we have privacy, I unbuckle both of our seatbelts and lay her down across the seat.

“Beau . . .”

“I want you screaming my name when you come, Amber.”