Page 54 of Sinner's Fury

“Carly, I’m gonna need you to breathe.”

“And I’m gonna need you to put on a shirt.”

Smirking, he asked, “Is there something wrong with my appearance?”

All I could do was nod vigorously. Or did I shake my head?

I couldn’t remember.

What did he say?

Grinning, he took a step back and turned around as my eyes landed on a full back tattoo. I tried not to look at the brand on his back, but I couldn’t stop myself.

It covered his whole back.

The Soulless Sinner.

A shrouded skeleton, holding a cross in its hands. The head bowed as if praying, as it stood over mounds of skulls. Ghostly souls floated around the Sinner. It was a remarkable piece. Beautifully done. Whoever tattooed his back was a damn fine artist.

“Did that hurt?” I whispered, my fingers itching to touch it.

Turning back around, he shook his head. “No.”

“Who did it?”

He moved closer to me and whispered, “A woman named Venom.”

“She did a beautiful job.”

“Yes, she did,” he agreed, stepping closer to me again.

Gently lifting my chin, so I was forced to look into his smoldering blue eyes, his lustrous deep timbered voice melted everything around me. “You didn’t come into my room to talk about my tattoos.”

Gulping, I croaked, “No.”

“Can you tell me why then?” He leaned in close, his other hand carefully removing my glasses as his breath whispered across my cheek, like tendrils of silk caressing my skin.

“I... I...”

“Yeah, I don’t care,” I barely heard him say as he pulled me close, his muscular frame pressed against mine, and with a searing kiss, he stole my breath and ignited a fire within me.

My head spun as I grasped onto him desperately. He drew me closer, his tongue pushing for access into my mouth. The way he kissed me was so intense, so uninhibited, like a wild, erotic dance. I couldn’t help it as he swept me away with his seductive power.

“Daddy?”

Like a scalded cat, Christian jumped away from me. Not bothering to look at me, he hurried over to his daughter. Kneeling before her, he rubbed her arms and asked, “What’s the matter, Bri?”

“Andi took my blankie.”

Gathering her in his arms, he sighed. “Well, let’s go see if we can wrestle it away from her.”

Standing there, I watched as he disappeared into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He left me standing there, stunned and speechless, and although I waited and waited for his return, hoping he would come back, he never did. Having reached the end of my rope, I gathered my belongings and went to bed. I struggled and toiled, fighting against my racing thoughts while I tossed and turned, but sleep stubbornly refused to come, no matter how hard I tried. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of his touch sent a wave of goose bumps across my arms. I could still feel the heat of his kiss, the tender pressure of his hands, and the electric charge of his touch lingering on my skin.

A pale sun rose the next morning, its light doing little to dispel the trepidation in my heart. With each carefully chosen article of clothing, the anxious fluttering in my chest intensified. The smell of my freshly laundered clothes did little to soothe my racing heart as I anticipated his response—would he acknowledge what transpired, or would he act as if it never happened? Exiting the room, I found myself speechless, confronting what could only be described as cheerful morning chaos, combined with the delicious smells of breakfast wafting from the table, where he and the four kids were already eating.

I couldn’t bring it up now.

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