Page 34 of Sin Like the Devil

“You’ve been discussing my choice of body wash?” I ask incredulously.

Raine chuckles, deep and throaty. “Gotta pass the time somehow.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

“A conversation with me?” he replies slyly. “It always is.”

Avoiding the arc of his stick clacking out a clear path, I fight to keep my eyes off him. Something about Raine intrigues me. He’s full of conflicts—vulnerable yet confident, a silver-tongued flirt hiding behind glasses and scruffy t-shirts.

Nothing about him makes sense. Yet nothing can erase the memory of him caressing his violin’s strings alone in the music room. I’ve found my mind replaying that scene over several times, attempting to comprehend what I saw.

“Well, thanks for the save,” I begrudgingly admit. “Feel free to go back to whatever you were doing.”

“Actually, we’re going in the same direction.” He lifts his violin case. “Can you tolerate me for a bit longer?”

Fighting a smile, I keep my voice disinterested. “Suppose I’ll have to.”

“Promise I’m a lot more civilised than the company I keep. Though if you want to tackle me like you did Lennox, you have my full consent. It sounded hot.”

“Your friend deserved what he got.”

Raine snorts. “Of that I have no doubt.”

Keeping his elbow to himself, he follows me at a leisurely pace. I sneak glances at him every few steps, but his slight grin remains sealed in place. How can someone capable of such mournful music have such a normal outward appearance?

“Did you know that your breathing changes every time you’re about to ask something?” Raine enquires conversationally.

“I wasn’t going to ask anything.”

“But everyone always wants to. Stop hesitating, it’s annoying. Ask.”

I suck in my bottom lip, nibbling on it as we pass several classrooms. “I suppose everyone wants to know the same, right?”

“More often than not.” An amused chuff bursts from him. “Short answer? No, I wasn’t born blind.”

When a door opens and patients begin to spill out in search of lunch, the first cracks in Raine’s exterior begin to show. His jaw clenches, betraying a slight tic. Each tap of his guide stick becomes a little more forceful, like firing warning shots.

Someone rushes out with their head down, focused on a sheath of papers. Before they can collide with Raine, I quickly grasp his wrist and tug him aside. His skin is hot to the touch, almost feverishly so, and silky-soft beneath golden fuzz.

His hard body brushes mine, head tilted downwards and turned towards me like he’s seeking safety. For a brief second, I savour the warmth of him pressed right up against my side.

He’s surprisingly firm. Chiselled. Muscular beneath his revolving door of frayed t-shirts and skinny jeans. A lump forms in my throat at his sudden close proximity.

“Now we’re even.”

He releases a short breath. “You keeping count?”

“I don’t like owing people.”

I’m close enough to get a waft of his scent. The intoxicating combination of freshly squeezed orange juice and salty seawater overwhelms my senses. He smells like lazy mornings on the beach, sharing breakfast picnics before catching the next surf.

“Get a good sniff?” Raine snickers.

I flinch away, releasing him once more. “Your good hearing is creepy.”

“Oh, I’ve been told. But it comes in handy.”

Feeling exposed, I train my gaze on the art studio at the end of the corridor and move faster. Somehow, Raine is able to see far past the tactics I’ve long since perfected to portray my indifference.

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