Page 21 of Sunshine & Sinful

Knowing exactly who it is, I sigh and remove my heels before following my best friend’s terrible advice and let the liar inside.

Sunshine doesn’t even look me in the face as I hold the door open for him. Not saying a word, he ambles inside, his shoulders hunched like a dog in trouble.

Before Dark shows up and causes more problems, I flip the lock, drape my jacket over the back of the couch, grab my favorite blanket from the woven basket by the television, and make myself at home as the biker does the same on the chair across from me.

Sunshine fumbles with his phone and types out a message.

“Did Till text you and tell you to come over?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. Are you mad?”

“No. But I need you to tell me why you’re here, why you broke in last night, why you were at the restaurant, and why you lied. I need answers.”

Massaging the nape of his neck, eyes downcast, Sunshine nods once, agreeing to my terms. “Okay. But let me make you some tea first. This is gonna take a while.”

SEVEN

With both hands cupped around my orange, honey, chamomile tea, I blow the steam from the top, watching it rise as Sunshine reclaims his chair across from me, now clad in a pair of sweats. While my tea steeped, he undressed in my bedroom and slid on a pair of black sweats he keeps here when he visits. He’s not wearing a shirt, which I hate. It’s distracting. It’s always distracting, but it's even more so now that I haven’t seen him like this in months.

He leans back in the overstuffed chair, getting comfortable—his legs spread out, bare feet on display, along with a smattering of gray chest hair, pecs most thirty-year-olds would kill to have, and tattoos, all those glorious tattoos. Wanting to scratch my own eyes out for even looking, I blink once to break the spell of all that is Sunshine and look elsewhere. The man’s magnetic, sucking you in. His presence is a warm blanket—soothing despite the pain he’s caused. I hate it. This is why I didn’t want to talk to him. This is why I didn’twant him in my house. I knew, I just knew, the moment I let him in, even for a moment, I’d weaken. He does that. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But he does. He’s safe—a buoy in a storm. While my head says liar, my heart says—home.

My stomach quivers.

Tears well in my eyes.

I swipe the back of my hand across them to get rid of the evidence.

Ugh.

I don’t want to do this.

Fucking Till.

Fucking… life.

“Sweets,” his deep, sensuous voice calls.

I stare into the black void of the television.

“Sweets, look at me. Please.”

I swallow hard.

I don’t want to do this.

With trembling hands, I raise my mug to my lips again and blow the steam away, desperate for a drink.

Sunshine sighs.

His chair makes a sound, and then the floor creaks as he moves and sits beside me on the couch. My eyes widen in horror at his proximity. I lose all ability to breathe. I open my mouth to beg him to go away, but nothing comes out as Sunshine removes the tea from my shaking hands, sets it on a side table, and wraps his thick fingers around mine. Goosebumps flare as I suck in a sharp, shuddery breath and try to jerk away, but he doesn’t let go.

“Sweets.” He draws my knuckles to his lips and kisses me there.

One by one, he takes his time, like he has all night. His lips are soft and warm against my chilled flesh.

Once he reaches my pinky, a knot lodges in my throat, and tears unleash… dumb, emotional, traitorous tears.

They drip down my cheeks like water on a windowpane. Falling off my chin and onto the bare skin of my chest.

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