Page 18 of Stolen Sin

Simon’s face softens. For a second, I catch sight of the man behind the beast, and I wonder if I have him all wrong, if he’s not the heartless monster I keep imagining, the vampire that’s going to drain me dry.

“I promise,” he says, nice and simple. “If you agree to be my wife, your father will be set for the rest of his life. I swear on my family’s name.”

I feel a little heady and breathless. The way Simon’s looking at me is pure longing and need, and against my intuition, I believe what he’s saying. He really will make sure my father has a comfortable retirement and doesn’t want for anything financial ever again.

And that’s when I understand.

I made my decision two days ago when I walked in on Dad crying.

I’ve been fighting it, trying to convince myself that Simon’s a snake and he’ll eat me alive, but even that doesn’t matter.

Simon will ask for more. He’ll keep asking for more until I have nothing left to give him.

And I’ll gladly hand it all over as long as it means my father never has to sob alone in his room ever again.

“What do we do now?” I ask, my fingers numb and my cheeks feeling hot. “Do you get down on one knee and propose or something?”

He comes toward me, the enormous menace, the gorgeous, dark-suited god of chaos and discord and sex and everything dark and glorious and delicious. He’s a poison apple, and I want to sink my teeth right in. Let him kill me. Go ahead, I’ll die with an arched back and his name on my lips.

“Is that what you want, baby?” he asks softly. I knew the fucking baby thing was going to be a problem. Because I kind of like it. “You want to be a traditional bride? White gown, big wedding?”

“I just want to get this over with, that’s all.”

I just want to survive.

He stops in front of me and puts a hand against my cheek, brushing his knuckles back into my hair. I let him do it, staying still like he’s about to strike.

Then I pull back.

He looks disappointed, like he wanted to grab hold, but he drops down to his knees in front of me.

I let out a startled yelp and try to get away, but he grabs my thighs and holds me down.

“Emily Hayes, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

It’s some proposal. We’re alone in my pathetic apartment, and he’s holding me down to keep me from squirming away.

But there’s that look in his eye. That needy stare like he’s doing his best not to rip my dress up and run his teeth down the front of my panties.

My god. I’m dripping wet for this guy, and it’s beyond frustrating.

“If I say yes, will you let me go and get the hell out of here?”

He pouts, almost disappointed. “I thought we’d spend our first night together.”

“No way in hell.”

“Then say yes and I’ll leave you alone. But don’t get used to it.”

I bite back a curse and slowly nod my head. “I’ll marry you.”

“That’s what a man’s always wanted to hear.” He leans forward, his mouth coming toward me, and in my panic, I turn toward him.

I’m not sure what he was trying to do, if he was aiming for my cheek, or if he was going to whisper something in my ear, but he seems as startled as I am when his lips meet mine. For a second, we don’t move, a kiss suspended, hung in mid-air, two mouths wanting each other but not sure if it’s safe to keep going.

Until he pushes slightly, increasing the pressure.

And I relent a little, opening my mouth.

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