Page 19 of Sinful Temptations

My heart deflated like a shot balloon. Nausea curled up from my stomach.

“Sorry.” Clutching my arm, he dragged me toward his back balcony.

My gut lurched. My head spun.

“Please don’t say anything. Please.” He sounded whiney, pathetic.

The cool air hit my heated flesh. “What the hell, Pierre?” I clutched my breasts, but it was as useless as putting Band-Aids on my nipples. “Get my clothes.”

Pierre dashed back inside. Seconds later, he threw my clothes out, and I gasped as they went right over the balcony railing—my pants, shirt, and my new sexy lingerie. The whole lot disappeared.

Next second, my shoes and socks were tossed at my feet.

Pierre slammed the door shut and yanked the drapes closed. A tiny gap in the pink curtain provided a slice of light onto my new living hell.

Fuck. Fucketty. Fuck.

I squinted at the surrounding buildings. Hundreds of them. With thousands of windows. It was dark, but I knew people were watching me. Millions of eyes all looking at my wobbling flesh. Laughing.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to die.

Slinking back against the wall, I heard Pierre greet his wife. They were speaking in French, and although I didn’t understand their conversation, I understood their tone . . . it was friendly. She was laughing.

It was a million miles from what I’d expected.

Who was I kidding? I had no idea what I’d expected.

This . . . whatever this was, was fucked up.

I grabbed my socks and shoes and shoved them on.

I usually looked ridiculous. I’d just tipped into the fucking crazy category.

Completely naked, except for my Converse sneakers and tiny ankle socks, I paused. My thumping heart dominated all sounds.

But then I heard something that had my mind exploding. I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears. I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs. I wanted to jump off the balcony and take my chances with the vegetable patch in the courtyard below.

No! No! No! It can’t be true.

Crawling on the floor with my boobs scraping across the lovely mosaic tiles, I inched toward the glass doors and sneaked a glance through the curtain.

My eyes bulged. My jaw dropped.

Pierre’s beautiful wife was on the bed, on her hands and knees, totally naked.

He, too, was naked and fucking her from behind.

Next second, he did something that took all my remaining sanity and shattered it into jagged little pieces. He looked at me—right at me. Like he’d expected me to be watching.

I jumped away. But I was too late. Because in that instant, I’d seen something that had fury raging through my body. Pierre had smiled at me.

The dirty fucking bastard had actually smiled at me. He was enjoying this.

Shame blazed through me like a lit firecracker.

“Bastard.” The word hissed off my tongue.

His wife was loud, but with each pump of my heartbeat, she got louder—grunting and groaning like a wild animal.

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