Page 6 of Sinfully His

“Oh,” I said, taking the shirt from his hand and carefully laying it down so it didn’t touch my soiled clothes.

I looked at myself, and he was right. The pretty purple cashmere sweaterdress I was wearing had a few stains and smelled like several things I didn’t want to examine too closely. Even my thick leggings had muck plastered to them.

It was tempting to get out of these clothes and into the thick, rich material of his button-down. I could just see the brand printed on the inside of the neck.

Rhone.

Harrison preferred that brand in the winter. The fine Italian fabric was soft and light but woven so tight that it would still keep me warm.

“Promise you won’t look?” I asked.

I had to hold back my gasp when he turned. I knew he had broad shoulders, but I wasn’t prepared for the golden sun-kissed skin of his back, the lines of his muscles deepened by the low lighting. My mouth watered, and now my heart was pounding, my face heating, for another reason.

“See, my back is turned. You can change. I won’t look.”

The fascination turned to mortification. I thought he was going to attack me, but I was the one staring at him like some little lovestruck girl. Acting as if I had never seen a back before… well, I hadn’t, especially not that toned and?—

I shook the thought out of my head. I needed to change quickly before he turned back around.

Even though he wasn’t facing me, I could still feel his eyes on me.

CHAPTER 4

THOMAS

Her reflection was crystal clear in the antique grandfather clock’s glass surface. It was actually cute how she thought that my back being turned meant she had some semblance of privacy—she had none.

I made sure the candle was placed in a way that she wouldn’t be able to see me clearly, but she was fully illuminated. Since my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see her clearly. Her dark hair, slim body, and the way she was so wound up, she jumped just a little with every tick of the clock.

Was she always this skittish or had those dumb Irish fucks terrorized her before I came along?

Still, watching her undress was surprisingly thrilling.

She was nervous, her eyes darting around the room, lingering on my back.

At first, I thought the innocent little angel was taking me in, trying to assess exactly how much of a threat I was and whether I had the strength and speed to catch her if she ran. But then I realized the dirty little girl was just checking me out.

It wasn’t until I cleared my throat again that her fingers went to the back of her dress, and she struggled to get ahold of the zipper.

I wasn’t sure what kind of underwear such a sweet, innocent woman would wear. Would she have on something daring, a secret under her clothes just for herself? Did expensive lingerie with its silky materials grace her most delicate flesh? Or was she the type to wear something cute and childish? Were little cartoon strawberries or teddy bears printed on the front?

It didn’t matter, not really. I was going to destroy her either way.

I may be a stranger to her… but Rose was no stranger to me.

She was a pawn that was caught in a game of her mother’s making.

Mary Quinn Astrid was going to feel my wrath.

She would know that she had pushed the wrong Manwarring too far.

I knew the bitch thought I wasn’t a threat, that I was just another cog in the machine, meant to spin the world on her axis. She thought of herself as above the Manwarring clan. If she respected any of us, it was my father. Maybe my brother, now that he had successfully taken her eldest daughter. She respected power, but only if it could serve her. That was a mistake. I would teach her how to respect the power that could destroy her.

Having Luc as her son-in-law must have pissed her off enough that I almost regretted missing the wedding, just to have watched the sour expression on her face as her eldest daughter married someone she thought was beneath her.

Luc, however, had two weaknesses, one of which Mary Quinn took advantage of when she manipulated Marksen Dubois into stealing our sister Olivia. Though that backfired beautifully in her face when Olivia managed Marksen so well they got married. And our other sister, Charlotte, was now married to some roughneck Texan with Marine experience, more money than God and, apparently, a gun collection that made even my father uncomfortable. She was as untouchable as they came.

This meant when I destroyed her youngest daughter, her last hope of a “suitable” match, there would be nothing she could do to retaliate against me. Nothing.

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