Page 56 of The Wages of Sin

“Still doesn’t, as far as I can tell,” he answered. “Or maybe he’s just afraid of me. It can be hard to tell the difference sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine anyone who knows you being afraid of you,” I said before popping an olive in my mouth.

Dorian turned his head in my lap to look up at me. “You’re kidding, right?”

I shook my head.

“Don’t get me wrong. At first glance, you can be very…” I searched for the right word. “…intimidating. But after spending a little time with you, it’s easy to see past that tough guy facade to who you really are.”

His brows arched as he smiled. His eyes filled up with humor and joy.

“Oh yeah? And who am I…really?” he asked jokingly.

“A big softy.”

“Is that right?” he chuckled—a sound I thought I’d never hear—and pushed up from my lap.

“Absolutely.”

A heartbeat later, I was the one laughing as Dorian playfully tackled me, rolling us both onto the grass. When we came to a stop, I was lying on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around me tight to keep me there.

His blue eyes sparkled as he looked up at me.

“And exactly which part of me is soft?” he teased.

I pressed my hand against his breastbone, flattening my palm so I could fully feel the thundering thumping of his heartbeat underneath.

“Right here,” I said.

Then he rolled me over and kissed me with such passion that I never wanted him to stop.

Chapter Twenty

DORIAN

For two glorious hours, we lounged in the park—eating, talking, enjoying the feel of the spring sun on our faces. Kiera shared stories of her distinctly middle-class family and growing up in suburban Indiana. She talked about the challenges and rewards of medical school and the dreams she’d had before her sister’s murder.

But mostly, she just relaxed on the picnic blanket beside me, sipping wine and occasionally popping cherry tomatoes and olives into her mouth. Every now and again, she would roll over and rest her head on my shoulder, moving in close enough for me to feel her chest softly rise and fall with every breath.

They were sweet, simple, small moments—the kind that had been missing from my life. Simply hearing her laugh made me feel closer to heaven than I’d ever been.

I didn’t want it to end.

But after a couple of hours, the wine was gone and a chill had crept into the breeze blowing across the park. So Kiera packed up the scraps and folded the blanket, and we headed back to my building.

“We should do that again soon,” she said with a contented smile as we traveled up the elevator. Her big, rich, forest-floor brown eyes looked up at me with nothing but trust.

Damn, she was beautiful. Near perfect. And so damn innocent.

Not naive…but innocent.

She alone saw the good in me. Not just saw it but drew it out. Kiera didn’t just make me want to be a better person; her mere presence actually made me one.

Only someone truly good herself was capable of something like that.

I wasn’t deluding myself. I didn’t miraculously become some kind of saint around her. My life had been steeped in far too much blood and violence for that to ever be a possibility.

But she did make me better.

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