Page 4 of The Wages of Sin

KIERA

Iwas staring.

Oh God, I was staring!

I knew I had to look away, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t turn my head.

How could I when the man standing in front of me looked so damn good?

Tiny rivulets of water streamed down from his dark, short-cropped hair, coursing over broad shoulders and a range of chest muscles that looked like they’d been chiseled from solid marble. My attention was glued to the tiny drops of steam collecting on perfectly defined pecs and abs, not to mention the long, toned muscles running the length of his arms.

But while his form might have been as close to perfect as I’d ever seen, the condition of the man himself was far from pristine.

All kinds of scars—some old, some new—crisscrossed his body. I spotted half a dozen healed long gashes, along with more than a few round bullet wounds. Some cut through the black ink of the tattoos that decorated his chest. Taken all together, his body told a story of a life lived in violence.

But strangely, none of that took away from the allure of the man standing before me. If anything, it only made him more captivating.

And then, because I seemed to have lost all sense of reason and self-preservation, my gaze dipped even further down.

Oh. My. God.

Clearly, it had been far too long since I’d had the opportunity to indulge in sexual thoughts.

My life these days just didn’t allow for it. I’d been in survival mode for too long. When you found yourself living day to day, constantly looking over your shoulder, pleasure became a luxury you can’t afford.

But now, I couldn’t seem to help myself.

I stared at the long, thick cock hanging between the man’s muscular thighs, and suddenly, my mouth felt dry. Without thinking, my lips parted, and I flicked out the tip of my tongue to wet them.

Just then, the man’s cock pulsed with a surge of blood, bobbing slightly as it grew even thicker, even longer.

I heard myself gasp and felt my heart begin to hammer as a rush of heat washed over me—heat that had nothing to do with the cloud of steam that was now rushing past me and pouring out into the bedroom.

The thought that I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this, raced through my head.

But instead of doing the reasonable thing and running like hell for the door, I found myself biting my lower lip as I lifted my gaze.

That turned out to be a huge mistake.

His features were just as devastatingly gorgeous as his body. His eyes were deep-set and lapis blue. His brow was straight and hard, his jawline even harder. He looked only a little older than me—four, maybe five years, which would put him around thirty.

My breath hitched as I tried and failed to read his flat expression. He didn’t seem terribly surprised that I’d walked in at him. Seeing as several seconds had passed and he still hadn’t made a move to cover himself, he certainly wasn’t shy about showing off his body. But his thoughts were a mystery.

Was he upset? Amused? Annoyed? His face gave nothing away.

All I could say for sure was, for someone with a stone-cold stare, the man was hot as hell. The kind I could have stood there appreciating all day, like a statue in a museum carved by a Renaissance master.

After another couple of long seconds, he cocked his head to the side.

The movement might have been slight, but it had a huge impact—enough to violently thrust me back to reality.

This wasn’t a lifeless stone masterpiece; it was a living, breathing man.

And an incredibly dangerous one, by the looks of it.

One I wasn’t even supposed to look in the eye.

Yeah…well, I’d looked at a whole lot more than that.

---