Page 15 of Holy Sinner

Grant murmurs softly to me, leaning close enough that his lips brush my ear when he speaks. “There will be a show soon.”

I look at the stage through the window and that’s when I notice the glass is slightly darker. Everything through it looks more intense, sharper, like I’m looking at it through smoke-tinted glasses.

“What kind of show?” I ask.

“A ballet,” Rafe answers, handing me a glass of wine. My hand shakes when I take the drink but I smile at him before I lean close and kiss him. He tastes like whiskey and spice with a hint of clove and I open my mouth to him when Rafe pulls me against him. The lights dim and Grant turns my face to him and replaces the feel of Rafe on my lips. Grant tastes of clean peppermint, the taste at odds but perfect after Rafe.

“Enjoy yourself. I know I would.”

Lilah’s words float back to me and I smile against Grant’s mouth. I know exactly how she would enjoy herself in the dim light of our booth. Low lights come on and cast the room in a warm glow, making it feel cozy and safe and I relax into Grant’s side with a satisfied sigh. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right between both of my men, Grant’s arm around my waist and Rafe’s hand on my knee. The table is small but big enough for us all to have our own space, though there’s no such thing with the three of us.

Rafe and Grant have pulled their chairs close. I can’t move without one of them moving with me and that suits me fine. The only way I would leave them is if I was dragged and even then it wouldn’t be for long because they would find me. Whoever did it would be dead before they even knew it. I shouldn’t find it comforting to know I’m safe because the men I love are more dangerous than anyone that has a mind to hurt me but I’m only human, so it does.

The sound of strings being plucked floats to us and I lean forward for a better look at the stage. Our little bubble has a perfect view and when I look out I see other dark-tinted windows circling the stage. Below us, there are people at tables enjoying dinner and conversation but I can’t hear them, even though I can see their lips move.

“Can they hear us?” I ask, trying to understand why I can hear the faint sound of a violin string being plucked but not the tables directly below us.

“They better fucking not for what we’re paying,” Rafe mutters.

Grant hums in agreement. “Speakers,” he says, pointing at the corner of the room as he nudges my dinner plate closer to me. “You need to eat.”

The food on my plate looks…interesting. It’s pasta, which isn’t the interesting part. The black noodles are–at least I think they’re black. The low light of the room makes it hard for me to tell but when I give the food a curious look, Grant is there to put a piece of thick crusty bread on my plate.

“Squid ink,” Grant explains and nudges my fork to me.

I pick up my fork and eat because I can tell from the look Grant is giving me he isn’t going to let up until I’ve gotten through more than half of my plate. Beside me, I see Rafe cut into a cake and I want to snag the piece he plates, but I know better.

I do that and they’ll both pitch a fit, so I eat. That’s when I see the dancers.

Chapter Nine

GRANT

I’ve got my eyes on Kit, making sure she eats and it takes everything in me not to smack the cake out of Rafe’s damn hand. He’s been slacking on his nutrition lately, thinks I can’t tell but I can. He needs protein, not sugary shit. Especially with the way Kit is eyeballing the chocolate cake he’s dished up.

In the end I don’t throw his plate against the wall because Kit nearly chokes when she catches sight of the dancers. They’re naked, or as close to naked as someone can get and manage a halfway decent ballet.

I know about dance and choreography from the years I did it. The dancers flitting about the stage are talented athletes, but that’s not what people are here for. Not really. Yes, they’re here for the beauty and artistry of the dance, but it’s the sex, too. The principal of the troupe spins, the sheer gauzy dress she wears twirling out around her. It’s so thin it looks like spider webs floating in the sun when the light catches the material. A man moves with her and picks her up effortlessly, lifts her and drops her without pause. Kit gasps and grabs my arm when the woman falls but another dancer steps forward to catch her. The sheer skirts of the ballerina flare out as the couple spins. The move is enough to keep the audience at the tables watching intently while the throuple on stage moves as one.

“They’re beautiful,” Kit whispers. She leans forward to get a better look at the dancers and I know why. She isn’t just seeing the dancers. She sees herself.

She sees us.

Rafe reaches out and touches her cheek. “Not as beautiful as you.” Kit’s eyes drift closed and it’s not the dancers that either of us watch.

It’s Kit.

She’s our entire fucking world. Of course there’s no other place Rafe and I care to look but at her. She smiles, the pretty curve of her lips presses against Rafe’s hand when she turns her face into his touch. Kit opens her dark eyes and they sparkle in the low light of the room. I almost groan when she smiles at me. She’s fucking perfect.

“Angel,” Rafe whispers and I have to find it in me not to knock him out when Kit’s eyes go to him. Being with Rafe is tenuous. The tension and urge to break each other rises up quick and fast when we’re not careful but it’s getting better.

“C’mere.” He holds a hand out to Kit and she slips her hand in his.

The sight of her touching him doesn’t piss me off the way losing her attention did. Seeing Kit with Rafe? That’s more than fine for me, I like to watch.

I love to watch her when she’s lost in herself and the way Rafe is making her feel.

When she goes to Rafe her skirts float around her as the soft music playing rises in a crescendo. The sound of drums joins the strings and a woman starts to sing. It’s all just noise. The only sound that matters is the moan from Kit when Rafe settles her on his lap and kisses her neck. He angles his chair so they’re able to watch the stage as he slides his hands lower to gather her skirts.

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