Page 95 of Wicked Sins

I’m smiling now, but my lips smooth a moment later. I’d thought of her as a slut, but she’s still a goddamn virgin. I’d thought of her as a bitch, when in fact, she’s just broken, like I am.

Ruined…like me.

I brush a strand of hair from her face, relishing how she shivers at my touch. I owe her something, a piece of myself, in exchange for what she’s given me…for what she allowed me to take.

“She killed herself.”

Candy goes stiff in my arms. “Your mom?”

“Gassed herself in the garage.” I kiss her earlobe, the side of her neck.

My hand slips behind her PJs elastic so I can cup her ass. “Yeah.”

“Shit, Jo—”

“She was eight months pregnant with Emma.”

“Pregnant—?”

“Didn’t get it right the first time, so she tried again just after Emma was born.”

She turns, eyes wide and brimming with sympathy. I’ve never wanted to kiss her so badly in my life, but the timing’s wrong.

“Wait…so Emma never really knew her mom?”

I shake my head.

“Shit. That’s so sad.”

“Can’t miss something you’ve never had, can you?”

Candy searches my faces, but fuck knows what she’s looking for. If it’s sympathy, she’s not going to find it. Not now, not ever.

That’s what people get wrong. They think shit like this is personal. It’s not.

It’s as random as a lottery.

Some people can just afford more tickets than others.

Some can’t afford any at all.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Candy

My heart aches for Joah. There’s such a terrible sadness in his eyes, it makes tears prick at my lids. But then the moment passes, and a sly grin lifts his lips.

He slides the hand he had on my ass between my legs, stroking me roughly. I let out a moan, bucking into him, so one of his fingers slips inside.

“You keep making that sound, I won’t be able to control myself,” he murmurs, putting his mouth by my ear.

But I don’t want him to stop. Not anymore.

I’m ready for him to tear me open.

As if he senses my answer, he starts raining tiny kisses along my jawline, working his way closer to my mouth as his finger slides in and out of me at a tortuously slow pace.

He fidgets behind me, pulls down the waistband of my bottoms to the curve of my ass.

---