Page 24 of The Sinner's Bargain

But I didn’t dwell on the full, generous swells of her breasts practically spilling from the teasing v cut down the front or just how dangerously high the slit running up her smooth, creamy thigh was. I tucked my gun back into the waistband of my cargos and went to gather her up.

She weighed nothing.

Even soaking wet, she nestled against my chest as small and delicate as a kitten. Her head settled on my shoulder and I was drawn to the lingering scent of flowers and rain. Of wet earth and the smell of the lake. But beneath all that, tucked as if solely a part of her was something I couldn’t identify.

“Boss?” Cyrus interjected. “Orders?”

I turned my focus away from the shivering woman in my arms to my best friend. “Clean it up.”

Cyrus didn’t move. “And her?”

I jostled my companion higher against my chest. “I got her.”

With my bundle secure in my arms, I made my way back to the manor.

“Thoran? Did I hear gunfire? Did you—?” Oliver appeared at the head of the stairs. His gray eyes widened when they landed on me. Then the girl. He hurried to meet me halfway down. “Oh, my goodness! What happened? Who is she?”

“No idea.”

I stalked past him.

He followed, round face as frantic as the hands he was flapping. “Should we call a doctor?”

“No.”

I took her to the room next to mine and lay her on the bed. I ignored Oliver’s fretting as I checked her pulse, then the bump on her head; I wasn’t a doctor, but you didn’t get to live the life of a criminal without learning the basics.

I left her only long enough to grab a fresh, clean top from my room. I returned to Oliver still hovering over her, hands wringing.

“Get out,” I muttered, standing with my hand on the doorknob.

Oliver faltered. “You shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not proper.”

“Well, I’m not letting anyone else undress her, so out.”

He opened his mouth, but the look on my face must have been deterrent enough to silence him because he rushed from the room.

I shut the door and locked it before turning to my guest.

Oliver wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t my place to change her. Any normal place, a flock of women would have taken over, but there were no women at Lacroix House. There wasn’t a woman for miles. Even if we got one to come, I wouldn’t let her in. It wasn’t safe. So, she was just going to have to settle for me.

The black t-shirt wrinkled under my fingers. The only hesitation I allowed myself before taking the final step to stand over the temptation.

She was beautiful.

The kind artists painted and poets moaned about. It was the kind of ethereal radiance that made me want to believe in fairies.

Mermaids.

Fucking angels.

She was breathtaking with soft, delicate features. A button nose. A narrow chin with a tiny dimple. Dusky lashes lay as gentle and precarious as a butterfly’s wings across flushed cheekbones. Makeup, dark and streaked ran in jagged lines down her cheeks. Possibly from the rain. Maybe she’d been crying. Probably both. But what should have made her even slightly unattractive only fueled a fire of vicious protectiveness deep in my chest. It made me wish I hadn’t killed the fucker who put that gash on her full, pillowy lip. I should have tortured him.

My obsession shivered. A weak sound escaped her slightly parted mouth and I was moving. All reservations vanished as my goal became clear.

Top discarded on the mattress, I went to the bathroom and flipped the switch on. I left the door open just wide enough to highlight her from the knees down. The rest of her stayed in murky darkness. It was enough to peel her coat off and undo the zipper on her dress. It was tricky trying not to touch anything I shouldn’t or steal a glance as miles of perfect, creamy skin came into view.

Was I a saint? Absolutely not. Despite my best attempts to be a gentleman about the situation, I was still only human, and the woman at my mercy was everything that made my blood hot. Even in the dark, her skin practically glowed. Her hair glistened. She was a damn magnet, and I was uncontrollably drawn to every fucking inch of her.

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