Page 37 of A Sinner's Truth

“Okay… I’ll play along.” Drew nods.

“Thank you. Now, I’m starving. Can you make waffles while I have a quick shower?” I smile and bat my eyelashes at him.

“Fine, go shower. You smell like sex,” Drew tells me. My entire face heats up. And then his eyes widen. He knows we did… something.

I turn and hightail it into my bedroom before he can question me further. “Vin and Cammi, make yourselves at home,” I call out before I shut the door.

I lean against the other side and count to three, waiting to see if the world is going to just put me out of my misery and swallowme whole. When it doesn’t, I push off the door and walk right into my bathroom.

After showering with my own products, I wrap a towel around myself and step out. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me!” I gasp, my hand landing on my chest when I see Santo sitting on my bed.

He needs to stop doing that, or we might not need the divorce. Because I might just have a heart attack instead.

Chapter Seventeen

Ifucked up. I tasted her, and now I can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t know what came over me this morning. I woke up with her body pressed up against mine. Her shirt had ridden up, and I could feel her naked ass pressing against me. I could also feel her thighs tighten.

She was turned on, and when she moved to try to get out of bed, her wetness pressed against my thigh. It did somethingto me. I’m not proud of what happened. I left the house and went straight to the park. To Shelli’s statue. I couldn’t even face her grave. So much fucking guilt is consuming me. I don’t know what to do with it.

The worst part? As shitty as I feel over betraying Shelli, I still want Aria.

I had a taste, and I want more. So much fucking more. Which is fucked up, because the last thing I need is more of Aria. I need less. So much fucking less. The sooner Eloise finds us a house so we can have separate bedrooms, the better.

Which is why I came here. To talk to Aria. To lay down some ground rules again. Maybe cement them in place. I can’t let her think this is anything but what it is. I’ll never be able to give her a real marriage, a real relationship beyond friendship.

What I didn’t expect to find when I walked through her door was another man. Drew Ambrose. I had Marcel get me every bit of information on the asshole best friend. He and Aria met in school, and as far as I can tell, they’ve never dated. I don’t for one second believe the little prick doesn’t want to fuck her, though. I mean, I want to and I haven’t wanted to fuck anyone since Shelli.

Aria is drop-dead gorgeous. I don’t even think she knows it, and that just intensifies how beautiful she is. I ignored Drew’s presence, and lucky for him, he didn’t try to stop me from walking straight into Aria’s bedroom when Vin told me where she was.

Now, I’m sitting on the edge of her bed, trying and failing to get my cock under control as I watch tiny water droplets run down her shoulder and along her chest. I want to lick them off her. She just walked out of her bathroom. In a fucking towel.

I could have her naked and underneath me within seconds. I’ve already calculated how many steps it would take to close the distance. Three. And just as many seconds to remove the towel from her body.

Her hand rests on her chest. I want to replace it with mine. “I didn’t mean to,” I huff out. Scaring her is the last thing I want to do.

“Where’d you go this morning?” she asks.

“We should talk,” I say, instead of answering. I don’t think telling her I went to talk to my dead fiancée is something that she needs to hear right now. Or ever really.

“Okay. So talk.” Aria walks over to a chest of drawers and starts rummaging through it. I can only assume she’s looking for clothes.

“Maybe you should get dressed first.”

“I can talk and get dressed at the same time.” With a pile of clothes in one hand, she walks back into the bathroom, leaving the door open enough that I can see her reflection in the mirror. Does she know she’s giving me a full show? “What do you want to talk about?” she prompts.

“This morning. What happened… what I did,” I say, forcing my eyes onto a picture hanging on her wall instead of that mirror.

Aria walks back out of the bathroom wearing a pair of denim shorts and some boy band t-shirt. “What we did. You didn’t do that alone, Santo,” she says.

“I shouldn’t have done it. To you… or to her.” I whisper that last part.

“Who is her?” Aria asks.

“Shelli.”

Aria doesn’t say anything at first, and the silence is killing me. “You really haven’t been with anyone else since she died?”

I shake my head. “We were supposed to be married.” I know most people move on after their spouse dies. I just can’t do it.

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