Page 68 of Wicked Sinner

"I know I made mistakes," he continues, his voice rough. "I know I hurt you, scared you. I know I went about everything the wrong way. But I want you to know that I never intended to take this away from you. I never wanted to lock you up in some ivory tower and pretend you were someone you're not."

He steps closer, his hands settling on my waist. "I fell in love with the woman I found in this garage, covered in grease and telling me to fuck off. I don't want to change that woman. I want to protect her, support her, give her everything she needs to be happy. But I don't want to change her."

The tears I've been holding back finally spill over, and I reach up to cup his face in my hands. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?" I whisper.

"Show me," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on mine.

He fumbles for the door behind him, stumbling out into the garage as he kisses me. We’re back where we started, and I don’t care about my white dress or anything other than the fact that the last time we were standing here, I thought I’d never see him again, and now he’s mine forever.

Caesar backs me against the wall, his tongue sliding into my mouth as his hands feverishly work to pull up my skirt. His fingers find the edge of the silk thong beneath my wedding dress, and he tugs it to one side, his thumb rolling over my clit as he sinks to his knees in front of me.

I moan his name the instant his mouth is on me, his tongue fluttering over my clit as I bury my fingers in his hair. He makes me come fast, fingers plunging inside of me as he licks and sucks at my most sensitive spot until I come for him, riding his face through the orgasm that crashes over me.

Caesar is back on his feet in a flash, my leg around his hip as he frees his cock and thrusts into me in a hot, slow slide that leaves me gasping. He’s so thick, his piercings rubbing against me and making me moan, and I arch my back, wanting more.

“I’m going to fuck you every day for the rest of our lives,” Caesar growls, leaning down to nip at my ear. “You’re going to feel my cock every moment of the day, walking around after I’ve been inside of you. You’re never going to forget who you belong to.”

I turn my head, kissing him as I bite at his lower lip. “As long as you don’t forget who you belong to, either.”’

“Never,” he promises me as he thrusts harder, sinking into me roughly with each stroke as his climax nears.

I tighten around him, his urgency and need spurring on my second orgasm, and Caesar kisses me hard as I feel him start to throb, his cum filling me as he picks me up by my hips, and my legs go around his waist.

“Not done?” I whisper as I feel him rock against me, still hard, and he shakes his head.

“No one gets me as hard as you do, wife. And I’m far from done with you.”

“Maybe we go inside then,” I whisper. “We could stay here tonight.”

He reaches up, brushing a piece of hair out of my face.

“I like the sound of that. But for now—” His hips rock forward, angling so that I cry out from the pleasure of his still-hard, pierced cock rubbing against every sensitive part inside of me.

“For now, I have you right where I want you, bellissima.”

I kiss him again as he starts to thrust, pleasure and love overwhelming me as he sinks into me slowly this time, again and again. And I know, as his hand wraps around the back of my neck and he whispers how much he loves me, that I’ll never question it for as long as I live.

Tonight, he showed me what I already knew—that he wants me, just as I am, and that I’m who he fell in love with. A mechanic from the middle of nowhere, when he was lucky enough for his brand-new Ferrari to break down.

And I’m lucky, too. I would never have found him otherwise. We would never have found each other.

But we’re here now. And I’m never letting go of what we have.

I hope you enjoyed Wicked Sinner!

Ready to meet your next book boyfriend?

Ronan O’Malley is the Irish king of Boston, ruthless and unyielding.

When he saves Leila Murphy, a brilliant, desperate young woman drowning in debt after her mother’s cancer diagnosis, he realizes she’s become a target in the same war that already stole his family.

His vow to protect her forces them into a marriage of convenience meant to shield her from danger, but every stolen glance and every heated touch drags them closer to something neither expected.

Her protector. Her captor. Her forbidden husband.

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Ruthless Savior is a story you won’t want to put down, filled with tropes you love:

Rescuer Turned Captor

Slow-Burn to Scorching Passion

Irish Mafia Boss + Innocent Heroine

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Chapter One

Leila

I do not, under any circumstances, recommend moving during the winter in Boston.

Unfortunately, my circumstances mean I don’t have much choice.

“What did you pack in this, cement blocks?” my best friend, Alicia, grimaces as she tries to pick up a cardboard box near the front of the U-Haul parked—probably illegally—in front of my mom’s apartment in downtown Boston. “I work out like, five days a week, and I do not think I can pick this up.”

“Books.” I run a hand through my hair tiredly and immediately regret it, as half of my ponytail falls out around my face. Grunting with frustration, I yank the tie out and go to fix it. “A lot of these boxes are books.”

“This is when a boyfriend would be helpful, Chip. Like—one with muscles.”

Her use of her nickname for me makes me smile a little, despite how utterly shitty this day is.

She’s called me that since junior high. Kids used to make fun of my name, calling me ‘Lay’s Chips,’ and Alicia turned it into her special nickname, telling me that if we made something good out of it, the teasing wouldn’t matter any longer.

Only we can decide if something hurts us, or if we make it something of our own. You can feel however you want about something. They don’t get to decide.

I’ve hung onto that a lot, over the years. Through breakups, through other friendships gone sour, through class assignments in college that I thought were great, and my professors tore apart. But right now, today, I don’t know if I get to decide if this hurts me.

It feels, like a lot of things have lately, as if it’s out of my control.

“It was nice of your boss to give you the Friday off to move.” Alicia sets the box of books down on the curb with a huff. “At least you have the whole weekend.”

“He wasn’t too thrilled about it.” I tug my ponytail into place and reach for another box of books.

Alicia is right, they are way too heavy.

I should probably have gotten rid of half of them.

Especially since I’m not even sure my mom really has space for all of this.

The gorgeous apartment I’d managed to get approved for—right out of college on account of the finance job I’d landed—had plenty of room…

but I had to break that lease last week.

And now, at twenty-two, I’m moving back in with my mom, right when my life on my own was supposed to be taking off.

Alicia frowns. “He wasn’t thrilled about it? Chip, your mom has cancer. You’re moving in with her to help take care of her, and he wasn’t thrilled that you needed to take PTO that you earned?” She snorts. “What a fucking dick.”

“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “But I’m new, you know? One step above an intern, even if they’re paying me way better.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Alicia blows out another huffing breath. “I just think they should be more worried about you— and how you’re going to balance all of this with still working full-time—”

I bite my lip. “I don’t know, honestly,” I admit. “But I just have to do my best.”

"Yeah, I guess." Alicia blows out another huffing breath, then pauses, studying my face with that expression she gets when she's trying to read my mind. "But seriously, how are you holding up? Like, actually holding up? Because you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

“Thanks,” I say wryly. I haven’t, but I don’t really want to admit it. I’m well aware of the toll all of this is taking on me—Alicia isn’t the first person to point it out, and some of my coworkers have been less gentle about it. “I’m fine”.

"Bullshit." Alicia crosses her arms. "When's the last time you went out, other than meeting me for a drink last week when you yawned into your martini three times? When's the last time you did anything that wasn't work or dealing with your mom's appointments?"

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and rub my forehead. "Alicia—"

"I'm serious. You're twenty-two. You should be going to bars and making terrible dating decisions and staying up too late watching Netflix. Instead, you're..." She gestures helplessly at the U-Haul, at the situation. "This isn't fair."

“I know.” I feel my shoulders drop slightly and grab another box. This one's lighter—probably clothes. "But I can’t do anything other than what I’m doing right now to fix it.”

"That doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

She's right, of course. It does suck. Everything about this sucks. But what's the alternative? Let my mom go through this alone? "Come on, let's just get this done. It's supposed to snow later."

Alicia sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be supporting you, not pointing out stuff that you already know and making you feel worse. It’s just—it’s hard not to be frustrated for you.”

“It’s no one’s fault. Just how things go sometimes.” I swallow down the lump in my throat, and reach for a bag of clothes.