Page 48 of Sin

My eyes also darted over to the couple, and I understood then what my job was. He wanted to cover what he was about to do by making us look as if we were also just two lovers hiding away in the shade.

He must have read the understanding in my eyes because he licked his lips again, like he was nervous. “I’m probably going to be really heavy.”

“I can hold you fine,” I muttered, swallowing hard. “But… Just tell me exactly what you want me to do. I want to make sure I understand correctly what you expect from me right now.”

“Kiss me. Touch me,” he said, the words almost passing as nonchalant, but I heard the breathiness in his words. Because like he’d confessed to me last night, as much as he hated me, he still loved me too. And, despite this being to conceal what we were up to, maybe he also just wanted an excuse to touch me.

Mierda, why was I so nervous?

Because it was London. That was why.

But I could do this.

“Where?” I asked, tone low as I leaned in to make it look like we were whispering intimately. “Where am I allowed to kiss you? Touch you?”

“My lips? My neck? I don’t fucking care, Sin. Just make it look real.”

Make it look real. Because it wasn’t.

Not yet, at least.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, unable to hold back the want in my voice. “I don’t want to touch you like this and make you upset.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snapped. Then he took a calming breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly several times. When he held my gaze, my breath caught by the need shining in those dark eyes. He wouldn’t admit it, but that look said just how much he wanted this. “Now kiss me so I can—”

My mouth sealed to his, cutting his words off. His body tensed at first before I felt him let go of the tension, relaxing his body so he could access his gifts.

And even though he was only letting me kiss him for the sake of the mission, I was still kissing him. Something I’d been aching for for so damn long.

I kept the kiss soft and slow, licking into his mouth to let him taste the lingering flavor of sugar on my tongue. He let out the softest moan, his hands sneaking around my waist and reaching for the back pockets of my jeans. I nipped at his lips when he slipped his hands into the pockets, giving my ass a firm squeeze.

But though all I wanted was to devour this man, to kiss him, worship him with my tongue and show him just how very sorry I was, I dialed back the kiss. A growl rumbled in his chest when I switched to simple, closed-mouthed kisses, sensing my retreat. He must have remembered his plan though because he let me continue with my almost mechanical kisses against his mouth.

Slowly, his body began to show signs that his power was building, taking over. And when his body fully sagged against me, his mouth going slack against mine, I shifted his head to my shoulder and moved my lips instead to his jaw, his ear, keeping up the ruse.

It was odd, doing this when he wasn’t aware. It felt wrong, even if he’d been the one to instruct me to do this.

My hips continued to pin him against the side of the booth, and the longer he was out, the more my arms ached from holding up his weight.

Demonios, maybe I’d lied earlier when I’d basically said his weight wouldn’t be a problem.

I didn’t have the same strength I used to before prison, and it was going to take a lot of gym sessions to build back my muscle.

I focused on breathing, and inhaling London’s cologne definitely helped distract me from the burn in my muscles. He smelled of clean cotton, coffee, and books. How he’d managed that last one, I had no idea.

An image of London taking one of the rare books from his secret collection and rubbing it over his body had me burying my face into the crook of his neck while I shook with silent laughter. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from nightmares, the stress of the mission, or maybe I’d finally cracked, but I just couldn’t stop laughing.

“What’s so funny?” London’s slurred voice rumbled against my shoulder.

“Do you rub books on yourself?”

Even without being able to see his face, I knew he was frowning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know how people have different colognes they shift through? Do you just like, go to your library and say, “I’m feeling saintly today,” grab a Gutenberg Bible, and wipe the pages over your skin?”

He snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

I noted that he didn’t deny it.

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