Page 111 of Breaking the Sinner

She’d been imagining how their reunion might go since she’d landed in Athens three months ago. Picturing the body-crushing hugs, all but able to feel Cobra’s deep, thorough kisses as his tongue found hers. The warm ripple of love, curling through her whenever she saw him in her mind’s eye.

But she also worried that it might be awkward. Maybe that spark that had spread like electric shock through them had simmered and dwindled to an unimpressive dullness. She could just as easily imagine a stilted conversation over coffee, prodding half-heartedly into what they’d done and seen during their time apart.

It had been over three months since she’d laid eyes on him. What if she forgot what he looked like?

Knock, knock, knock.Her stomach gave a painful wrench, palms going damp. She listened closely, then checked her watch.

It was well after five. So where was Cobra?

She knocked one last time and pressed her ear to the door. Trying to conjure footsteps, or a “Hang on I’m coming!”

Nothing.

Gen stepped back from the door, double checking the number, then ran out to her car to look at the building as a whole. In her haste to get here, she’d forgotten her phone, and her tablet was a slick paperweight without an Internet connection. The most she could do was go home and send another e-mail asking for more specific instructions. And then wait, agonizing over her impatience.

In all her vivid fantasies about coming back to Los Angeles, this scenario had never occurred to her.

Gen groaned, stomping her foot. She looked up and down the street. The area was quaint, at least. Safe. That park over there looked nice. She adjusted the small cross-body bag she wore now, a little leather handicraft she’d picked up in Madrid. Sitting by some trees sounded like a much needed time-out.

She crossed the street once the traffic broke, hurrying toward the red brick path that wound through the green space. Palms shot up at uneven intervals, like a whimsical yellow brick road, California style. She scuffed down the path, hands shoved into the pockets of her high-waisted gypsy pants.

She had a lot to process now. That much was for sure. Not just about her future, but about her past. Where she’d come from. How the hell she’d made ithere.

She’d thought a lot on her trip about the name she’d given herself. Genevieve. It was still her most favorite name, but now, the nicknameGenheld another meaning. Short for Genesis. Her favorite book of the Bible as a little girl…and the most appropriate homage to this new life she created for herself.

Little yips broke through her thoughts, and she couldn’t find the source before she felt it. An impossibly cute puppy barked at her feet, paws up on her shins, entire butt waggling with excitement.

Tears immediately came to her eyes, but she didn’t know why. “Oh, my goodness! Look at you!”

She scooped the puppy up, holding it out so she could get a good look. Fur the color of caramel accented snow-white circles around the puppy’s eyes, which were so deep and soulful she couldn’t fight the “Awww!”

“You are the most precious thing I’ve ever seen! Where is your owner? Do you want to come live with me? Little perfect, precious puppy!”

The puppy didn’t have a leash, which was odd. Was this a runaway? She would absolutely kidnap this dog. In fact, maybe this would be the best hey-I’m-home gift to show up at Cobra’s house with. She held the dog in her arms, scanning the park for a possible owner. She’d give it a few minutes. Maybe one minute. Then the dog was hers.

Farther down the path, near a thicket of hibiscus, a man stepped into view. Longish black hair swept over his forehead, and his trim upper body was perfectly displayed by a tight-fitting T-shirt that said HOLT.

The T-shirt made her squint.

And then she realized.

She was looking at Cobra.

“Red!” His gruff shout shot through her, sending electricity to every inch of her body. She gasped, and then the distance closed between them; she didn’t know if Cobra had bolted toward her or if her legs had carried her without her knowledge.

But then he was around her, his sturdy, warm frame pressing against her in all the places that had been silently begging for him. And then she was in the air, one arm hooked around his neck and the other cradling the puppy. He spun her in a slow circle, his face buried in her neck while her heart raced fast enough to span the world in a moment’s time.

“Holy shit,” he said, that rough silk of his voice reverberating through her like harmony. “You didn’t tell me you cut all your hair off.”

And like that, she knew. Nothing would be strange or stilted or awkward. The energy pulsed between them as it always had. As if no time had passed at all. She giggled. “You didn’t tell me you grew yours out!”

“Genny.” He set her down gently, then cupped her face in his rough hands. The obsidian glint of his eyes was sharper than she’d remembered. More alive. Warmer. Healthier, somehow. Something that no photo would have done justice. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Emotion tightened her throat and she drew a fortifying breath, placing her hand over his. “I’ve been waiting for this moment since I left.”

He searched her face, as if he was memorizing the shape of her lips, the curve of her eyelashes. “Part of me believed I’d never see you again.”

“I always planned on coming back,” she said softly.

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