Page 10 of The Sinner’s Desire (The Sinner’s Touch #1)

I totally screwed up the moment I arrived—blurting out something about his eyes.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the most polite way to break the ice, but standing face-to-face with Amos made me way more nervous than I thought I’d be.

And then there’s the other issue: I can’t keep my thoughts to myself.

When I was younger, I blamed it on immaturity. But now I know better. There’s just no stopping the words once they start, especially when I’m anxious. And seeing him sent a wave of excitement through my body like I’d just ridden a rollercoaster twice in a row.

What I wasn’t ready for . . . was a full-on cold war.

He scolded me like I was five—just because I snapped back after he was rude and didn’t even say hello.

Honestly, I wanted to turn around, grab a cab, and head to the apartment by myself.

The thought of being stuck in a car with that grumpy giant for over thirty minutes—the time it takes to get to their penthouse, according to my research—does not sound appealing.

Chances are I’ll say something stupid, and that could actually make him refuse to let me stay at the place he shares with Ethan.

I know I’m in no position to pick a fight, so instead of throwing a tantrum and blowing my chances of proving I can act like an adult, I take a deep breath and let him grab my bags.

I walk beside him in silence. I may be inexperienced, but I’m not stupid. I learn fast. Amos has already made it painfully clear that I’m an inconvenience during my brother’s absence.

I think about the magazine I read on the plane and come up with an idea. There was a piece about Saint Barthélemy in the Caribbean . . . maybe I’ll spend a few days there before classes start.

We enter the parking garage, and I jump when I feel his massive hand press gently against my lower back.

I turn around quickly, trying to slow my heartbeat—but my body betrays me. My breathing turns shallow, and my cheeks burn with heat.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you, Lillyana.”

“I’m not scared. You just startled me.”

“Oh? No man’s ever touched you before?”

I freeze. Does he mean literally , like a handshake?

Or something else?

“I’ve shaken hands,” I blurt, deciding to keep the Bastien incident to myself. Something tells me if Ethan finds out, he'll lose his mind.

Amos stares at me so intensely that my knees nearly give out. “Nothing more, Lillyana?”

Jesus, I hate my name—but when he says it, it sounds like melted marshmallow, like the kind Grandma used to make when I was little. “No. I’ve been in a convent-style school since I was twelve, and my time in Paris wasn’t exactly a party scene.”

Why am I explaining myself to him? After what he said—that if I weren’t Ethan’s sister, he wouldn’t even let me past the front door—I shouldn’t even be speaking to him.

He opens the car door and waits for me to get in. Watches me fumble with the seatbelt, too. It feels like he’s dying to just do it for me, because he keeps staring like I’m testing his patience. My hands are trembling. I can’t control the anxiety.

Finally, on the third try, I manage to click it into place. Only then does he load my luggage into the trunk and settle into the driver’s seat beside me.

Honestly, I pictured him driving a pickup truck, not this sleek sedan with leather seats.

I’m guessing this car cost at least half a million dollars—and even though I don’t drive, I love everything about cars.

The price doesn’t shock me. All three of us have more than enough money for this kind of indulgence.

What surprises me is how wrong this car feels for him.

Amos looks like he belongs behind the wheel of something more rugged, raw.

I glance at him. He’s a walking contradiction—rough around the edges, yet refined in certain gestures. Maybe that mix of rawness and polish is what makes him so damn magnetic.

“What did you mean by your time in Paris ‘not exactly being a party scene’?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me. You reminded me, not that long ago, that if I weren’t Ethan’s sister, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“And yet, we’re stuck living together for almost a month.”

That stings. Anger I’ve been trying to suppress comes roaring back. “Right. A whole month. Don’t worry, though—I’m great at staying in the background.” I turn toward the window, pissed at myself for opening up.

How the hell am I attracted to this ogre? I must’ve hit my head!

“Tell me why you didn’t go out in Paris, Lillyana.”

“Why do you care?”

“I need to know everything about the people I live with.”

“To satisfy your curiosity?”

“No. For control.”

I swallow hard. His answer makes my nipples tighten against the fabric of my top. “You don’t need to be polite with me. I’ve already seen your worst side.”

Oh God. Shut up, Lilly.

To my surprise, one corner of his mouth lifts in a faint, almost-smile. “You haven’t come close to seeing my worst. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Now—tell me, Lilly .”