Page 13 of Room One Hundred and Five

My heart doesn’t understand words as much as it reads body language. It lurches and pauses. Lurches and pauses, causing me to tremble from head to foot from how they lean in dangerously close.

All this takes place in a blink. Detective Lafleur taught me how to sum people up with one look and put up boundaries when people got too close. And let me say, these three are so damn big, or this elevator is so small, that there’s no other spaceexceptmy personal space.

So far I’m not having any luck with putting walls up. Not when men like these smell so damn good.

I step back but I only get as far as the elevator doors allow. They keep their hands exposed like they want me to know they have nothing to hide. I see no visible weapons. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. Hello, pay attention to the scars. And those are just the ones I can see.

They are dressed like they make a living with their looks and not by offing people. But I’ve been wrong before.

“I’m sorry. I must look like a mess.” I wipe at the tears still rolling down my cheek, wishing I had opted out of my sister’s big idea of getting me laid.

For a second, the wave of embarrassment that hits screams for me to stab the button to open the elevator doors and escape back into Club Sin.

But why? Because of one fucking twisted boyfriend is why. I’m broken. Ugly. Unwanted.

“Nothing is further from the truth. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.”

That is blue eyes. I get so caught up in the way his scarred mouth moves that I don’t realize he steps in until the warm pad of his finger drifts across my cheek.

I shudder in a shallow breath. He catches a fat tear on the end of his finger. “Your tears are ones of pain. Let us change that for you, beautiful flower.” His lips brush over my heated cheek before coming over mine for a soft kiss. Our breath mingles.

This man knows what he likes and I can’t find a single reason why I should push him away.

Clutching my evening bag in one hand, I settle the other over his chest. Our gazes hold. Our bodies meld together. And then the softness of our connection deepens. A solid arm made of pure granite wraps around me protectively. He takes my face in his other roughened palm.

“Take a deep breath, beautiful.”

I sense a sin against my better judgment about to happen.

And yet, my heart, no, my whole body wants to fall into every word he utters. His voice is husky and down right sinful enough to drop my panties right here in the elevator.

I do as he gruffly commands, but I don't get to keep any of the air because the sexy stranger steals my breath away with the fierceness with which he claims my mouth. I don’t get a chance to say no or stop this before it lands me in trouble. This man is like a steamroller and I kind of like how he takes what he wantswhen it feels this good. I can psychoanalyze the hell out of that some other time. Right now, his mouth feels like what I need after my disastrous night.

His friend comes in on my left and he catches another tear from my other cheek like they are some kind of currency that buys them a kiss. He holds it up and I look on as he lifts it to his lips and licks it from the tip.

That shouldn’t be sexy, but the way his mouth moves draws my eye.

“I need to be going,” I hear myself say. It’s the rule follower in me talking. The one that doesn’t want to step out of line because when I do, I get hurt.

Deep groans come from the two at my sides. “Stay with us. Just for tonight,” says the one with blue eyes and tastes like a one-night stand is nothing to be ashamed of.

He takes my hand and winds my arms around his neck. Hands settle over my hips on the other side.

Amber eyes.

God, he smells like a wild night of lust.

My attention roams to the one in the middle. His jawline is clean-shaven. Angular. Perfect for kissing and running my tongue over.

He’s control and chaos all in one. I sense the shift in energy when he steps in close and eliminates the last bit of unfilled personal space between us. He towers over me and with him he brings an aura of power only a sinner carries.

“I need to get home.” My lips move with more nonsense. Why, I have not a freaking clue. It’s scary how easy and good it feels to let these men touch me so freely. Shouldn’t I slap their hands away? Isn’t that the rational, safe thing to do?

But my body betrays me and the rush of adrenaline spiking my blood causes my nipples to harden into tight peaks. And all three notice.

Past trauma makes me want to throw my arms over my chest and hide my arousal.

No one could want someone as dirty as you.

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