Page 32 of Lessons in Sin

‘Yes sir.’ I say suddenly feeling a whole lot more than just shock. Peeling off my shorts, the material clinging to my clammy skin, I throw them into the back and stretch out like a cat.

’Spread them.’ His voice is low. Dangerously low. It’s the sort of low that could command an army with a breathless whisper.

I do as he says immediately, parting my legs until one touches the door and the other touches the gear stick.

His hand grips my thigh, the straight and narrow road we’re on accommodating our rendezvous. I move my hips lower, trying to get his hand to touch that sweet, warm spot between my thighs but he squeezes, a warning between clenched fingers.

He clicks his tongue. ‘Naughty.’ Flashing me a smile, he settles in his seat - relaxed like a cat who just got the cream. ‘My turn now.’

I lick my lips, drawing his attention to them. ‘Most embarrassing moments.’

He thinks for a moment. ‘I wet the bed when I was seven and blamed it on my friends dog. I got so drunk when I was in high school that I stumbled into the wrong house and ended up sleeping on the couch of my new neighbours who thought I was a burglar. I stole a cat accidentally because I thought it was my sisters.’

‘Wow you really do hate cats.’

He shrugs. ‘They all look the same to me.’

‘Poor kitties.’ He squeezes my thigh, a playful warning. ‘Okay fine, the bed wetting one is the lie.’

‘How did you know?’

‘I’ll never give away my secrets.’ I say sending him a look.

Rolling his eyes, he flashes his indicator, turning onto a long dirt track, empty save for the single person walking along it, thumb held out in that pleading way that hitchhikers do.

‘Hey look.’ I say. ‘A hitchhiker.’

But Tristan is too busy focusing on that blur of a person who’s features slowly materialise as we drive closer.

‘Oh fuck.’

‘What?!’

‘Get your pants back on. Now!’

I scramble for my shorts, pulling them up until they’re mostly on just in time for Tristan to pull beside a girl who looks eerily familiar.

He rolls down his window. ‘What are you doing Isabel?’

The girl rolls her eyes. ‘Nice to see you too big bro.’

And that’s when I remember, the photo in his office – the younger girl. This must be Tristan’s sister Isabel.

And we almost just got caught with our pants down.

Chapter 20

It only took another twenty-minutes to get to Tristan’s childhood home, and yes, I was wet, and desperate for him - so much so that I might have contemplated throwing his sister out of the moving car window. But it was … bearable.

As we pull up outside his mother’s house, Tristan and Isabel still bickering like siblings do, I feel a knot tying itself at the base of my stomach. I’ve never been the kind of girl parents like, but it’s also never mattered to me. All my high school boyfriends were a means to an end.

This thing between me and Tristan? Well, I wanted this to work for the long run.

Jesus, do I love the man already?

No — I can’t entertain thoughts like this when I’m already panicking about meeting his mother. Shaking my head, I rid myself of that panic and tune back into the present.

Isabel jumps and hangs onto the two front seats, grinning at me like a Cheshire Cat.

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