Page 1 of The Sinner’s Desire (The Sinner’s Touch #1)
Boston Past
I try to focus on the lyrics of All I Want for Christmas Is You playing in the background, but my treacherous eyes keep drifting back to the man who came with Ethan.
“Amos Cooper-Hayes,” my brother said when introducing him. And as always happens when I’m around strangers, I couldn’t hold his gaze for long.
Well, not exactly a stranger—Ethan’s known him since they were teenagers. They went to school together, apparently. But it’s the first time he’s ever been here.
I sneak another glance at him.
Jesus, he’s hot. Dressed all in black, messy hair, and a face that could easily belong to a model—sharp jawline, straight nose, and golden skin that would make even beach-town residents jealous.
Despite the whole package being enough to make any red-blooded girl go weak in the knees, it’s his eyes that strike me the most—they’re yellow, like a cat’s.
There’s something hypnotic about them.
Not just the unusual color, but the coldness in them.
There’s no warmth in that man.
I’ve been watching him like an addict all night. He stays away from the other guests, just like I do, so I guess we have that antisocial streak in common.
How old is he, anyway? Probably around Ethan’s age—ten years older than me.
Every time he catches me staring, he looks right back. But he doesn’t smile. And that makes my cheeks burn with embarrassment because it feels like he can read exactly what I’m thinking.
A strange kind of heat has been building in my body ever since he walked into my mother’s Christmas party. I’ve got butterflies dancing in my stomach.
It’s not like I’ve never been around good-looking men before. I don’t go to a convent school anymore. I’ve been meeting guys since I started studying fashion in Paris a few months ago, and I’m not a wannabe nun , no matter what Martina says just to tease me.
I sigh, wondering when this party will finally end. It’s been a long time since I visited my mom, but even though I just got here a few days ago, I already want to leave. I’m tired of fake smiles and repeating the same things over and over.
Yes, I study fashion in Paris.
Yes, I love the city.
Yes, I’m thrilled to be living near the Eiffel Tower.
I doubt anyone here actually wants to talk to me. They’re just being polite because I’m the hostess’s daughter.
I scan the room—and Amos is gone.
He hasn’t left yet, that’s for sure, because Ethan is chatting with some brunette, and they arrived in the same car.
I doubt he went outside, either, because it’s snowing like crazy.
I should stay put . . . but curiosity gets the better of me, and I start walking down the hallway on the first floor to see if I can find him.
I hear voices coming from the library and head that way but stop at the partially open door when I realize Amos and my mother are inside—alone.
Nora says something softly, leaning toward him, which is weird because when he first arrived, she called Ethan’s friend “a savage in expensive clothes” because of his unkempt hair.
I beg to differ. Amos is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on—and there’s something more .
Some kind of magnetism that pulls me toward him, no matter how much I tell myself it’s rude to stare.
“What did you say?” my mother suddenly asks, her voice sharp and indignant.
I know that tone—it’s the same one she uses when someone guesses her real age. Mom likes to appear younger than she is, and she doesn’t let Ethan call her “Mom.”
“You heard me just fine, ma’am ,” Ethan’s friend replies, putting an icy edge on the last word like a blade slicing the air.
She stares at him for a few seconds more, then opens the door and catches me eavesdropping. But I’m not sure she even sees me—her face is twisted with fury.
I should apologize to Amos for spying on them, but instead I just stand there, about five feet away, staring at him without a word.
He doesn’t ask what I’m doing. Feeling a little braver, I take a step into the library.
Amos looks at me the way I imagine a predator looks at its prey...and my whole body reacts like someone just plugged me into a live wire.
I’m trapped by his eyes. They look darker now, and they hold me in place like invisible handcuffs.
His stance should be intimidating, too. He looks aggressive, even though he hasn’t moved.
Maybe it’s just who he is. Maybe Mom’s not entirely wrong to call him a savage. There’s definitely something primal about him.
“What do you want, girl?”
It’s the first time he speaks to me. When we were introduced, he just nodded.
“I—”
Before I can say anything, my brother walks in, calling out to him—but when he sees me, he frowns. “Lilly, what are you doing here?”
“I was looking for the bathroom and got the doors mixed up.”
God, I suck at lying. I lived in this house for twelve years! How could I confuse the doors?
“You should get back to the party, or Nora’s going to start breathing down your neck,” he says, and I just nod, practically running out of there.
“Let’s get out of here, man,” I hear Ethan say behind me.
“The storm’s getting worse, and I’ve already picked my companion for the night.
She’s got a friend who’s dying to meet you. ”
I walk faster, not wanting to hear Amos’s reply.
I’m such an idiot.
What the hell was I thinking? Ethan’s friend is a man, not some college boy. I’m just a clueless girl—no way someone like him would ever be interested in me. Best thing I can do is get my head out of the clouds and both feet back on the ground.