Page 9 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)
Minutes Before
It’s been nearly forty-eight hours, and they haven’t called again.
I’m on the verge of losing my mind, locked in this roadside motel, running through my limited options.
I’ve got some money hidden—Elodie and I always assumed we might have to disappear someday—but it will take a few days to access it.
If they keep their word and release her— when, Amber, not if —we’ll need funds to run again.
I’m stuck in that thought loop when my phone rings. No caller ID.
“He’s in Texas.”
“What?” I blink. “I don’t understand.”
“LeBlanc is back.”
“That’s not my problem. I did what I was told.”
“The deal’s changed.”
As I listen to the new instructions, I feel the urge to scream. “And what about letting her go?”
“We’ve decided to keep her a while longer. We still need you. Be a good girl, and you’ll be reunited soon.”
Two hours later
I expected that when the time came to face him again, my heart would be pounding.
I’ve been through too much in too short a time, and even though I’ve spent most of my life running, I’ve never really had to handle something like this.
But nothing could’ve prepared me to see Beau standing at the door of this rundown motel, looking like he owns the universe.
Terrified but remembering my enemy’s words, I force myself not to show how tense I feel.
“Amber Martin. Finally found you.”
“Were you looking for me, Beau?” I ask, slipping back into the character from the night we met.
“I don’t like unfinished business.”
“Maybe from your perspective, I’m unfinished business, but I’m sure you can find someone to take my place.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. According to the instructions, I should be happy and eager to see him again, but right now, my survival instinct is louder.
It’s telling me to run from this man whose eyes seem to invite me into something both terrifying and thrilling.
“I don’t want a replacement. I want you. Let me in. I have a proposition for you.”
Despite what he says, Beau doesn’t force his way in, which calms me just a little.
I can see the dark SUVs behind him, parked with tinted windows.
His eyes scan me from head to toe, and without meaning to, my body leans toward him.
He seems to notice, and those blue-green eyes darken.
Facing Beau without the dim lighting of the club is intimidating. He’s huge, and he redefines the word “masculine.”
Seeing him in a suit now instead of the sleek casual outfit from before sets off a fantasy in my head—of ripping it off, layer by layer, until I reach his skin.
“How did you find me?” I don’t even pretend I left the apartment for no reason. He clearly knows.
“That’s not the right question, Amber. The question is: why did I bother coming after you when you ran?”
I swallow hard. “Why?”
He steps forward, and I instinctively take a step back. “Because I don’t usually deny myself pleasure.”
“And I’m a pleasure?”
“Not yet,” he murmurs, twirling a lock of my hair around his fingers, “but I intend to fix that quickly.”
I feel like I’m strapped into a rollercoaster, waiting for the drop, equal parts terrified and desperate for it. For the freefall into the kind of man whose raw sexuality knocks the air from my lungs.
“You said you had a proposition,” I manage, forcing my focus away from his absurdly sexy mouth.
“We’ll talk about that later. I’m taking you to dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”
I try to hide my surprise but probably fail. “How do you know that?”
He ignores the question, letting his eyes travel over me again. “You don’t need to change. You look beautiful like this.”
Cocky bastard.
“I wasn’t planning to change anyway.”
“Then let’s go.”
It sounds like a command, and some stubborn part of me I didn’t know existed steps backward, deeper into the room.
I must be crazy. I’m supposed to be sweet and agreeable.
It takes me all of half a second to realize I made a mistake by challenging him. Beau is far too experienced not to know the effect he has on me.
He moves in, invading my personal space. The fingers that were gently—if that word even applies to him—twisting in my hair now tighten. “Does challenging me turn you on?” His voice is low and rough.
Deny it, logic warns, but I can’t resist. “Maybe.” I can feel his heat. Smell his scent.
He leans down—he’s tall enough that he has to—to touch my jaw with damp lips. “I want you.”
Three simple words.
And yet they send a wave of need through me so intense it leaves the center of my thighs soaked.
He drags his tongue across my skin, and my breasts ache, desperate for his touch.
“Beau . . .”
“I love hearing you say my name, Amber. That mouth was made for it.”
He sucks on my neck, nibbling—sometimes soft, sometimes not—and I melt into him, moaning without meaning to.
“Come with me,” he says.
“Why should I?”
“Because you know you want to. I’m going to take you somewhere that actually suits you.”
“I can’t.” I should’ve said it more firmly, but I’m already drunk on him. My hands grab the lapels of his suit.
He wraps his arm around my waist, and for the second time in just a few days, I find myself not only held but captured, tightly pressed against the hard wall of his chest. And I like it.
His tongue flicks at my ear, and I tilt my head, silently begging for more.
I try to summon what little sanity I have left—but half-heartedly. “We shouldn’t—”
The protest never makes it out. He crashes his mouth onto mine. The kiss is dominant. Beau isn’t rushing; he’s focused on making me fall apart in his arms. And it’s working.
My hands dive into his hair as I mold my body to his.
The next second, I realize he’s shut the door with his foot and I’m in his arms, being carried to the bed.
This man’s mouth is pure sorcery. With a kiss alone, he demands surrender.
His large hands glide down my thighs, toying with the edge of my panties.
I gasp—but he swallows the sound in a deep, consuming kiss.
I suck on his tongue and pull him closer.
“I want to taste your pussy, Amber. Say yes.”
His voice is a mix of command and craving. The words are filthy and they should shock me. But instead, they obliterate what’s left of my self-control.