Page 6 of Sunshine & Sinful

It’s three in the morning when I park my Bronco in my driveway and turn off the engine. Key in hand, I climb my front steps. The dim streetlamps light my way as I unlock the front door, cross the threshold, set my keys on the table by my raven, and shut myself inside for a good night’s rest.

I toe my comfy moccasins off and drop them into the shoe basket.

“I thought you’d never get home,” a deep voice ripples through my darkened living room, and my entire body jolts in surprise, heart leaping into my throat.

THREE

“What are you doing here?” I gasp, clutching my chest, willing my racing heart to calm as the familiar sound of boot heels scrape across the hardwood floor, drawing closer. The moon and streetlights cast a dim glow through the open blinds as my home invader stops feet from me.

“It’s been four long months.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask a second time, waiting for a real answer.

“I said I missed you, Sweets.”

He did say that—a lot.

“What are you doing here?” In my home, in the middle of the night, sitting on my couch without a single light on, waiting like a creeper.

A ripple of equal parts excitement and unease travels down my spine. Goosebumps sprout across my arms. Shivering, I rub them away as the man before me roughly clears his throat. “You’ve had four months to be pissed and hurt. It’s time to let that shit go.”

Tears sting my eyes as his words penetrate deeper than they should, jabbing all my soft spots at once like a thousand tiny pinpricks. “You don’t get to decide that,” I whisper, hating that he would even demand such a thing.

He takes a step closer, and I take an even bigger step back. We aren’t doing this. Correction—I’m not doing this.

A grumble percolates in his chest as he advances on me again, and I retreat another step and another until my back presses against the closed door. I grip the cool knob, not knowing if I should rip the door open and run or sob that he’s here. I’ve missed him, even if I hate what he did, even if hearing his voice for the first time in months physically hurts.

His strong front fits against mine as he traps me against the exit with nowhere to run. Two muscular arms brace on either side of my head—the metal of his ring clinks against the wood as the moonlight glints across half of his face.

I tremble.

He growls like an uncaged beast.

I’ve never seen him like this before.

Ever.

I swallow thickly. “Wh-what do you want?”

“You.” He presses his forehead to mine and breathes once, twice. The familiar scent of all that is him, of man and musk, of life and death, suffuses the space between us, taking up all the air in my lungs.

“Colton—” I choke out, wishing he’d stop this madness.

“Let’s go to bed.” The breath of his words fans across my face, causing me to shiver.

No. We can’t go to bed.

I fist my hands down at my sides, refusing to move. “Why are you here?” I ask, my tone stronger than I feel.

The tip of his nose nudges mine. It’s soft and sweet, but it hurts that ache inside my chest. “To sleep,” he whispers, nudging his nose to mine again, his breath a mere wisp upon my lips.

“Another lie,” I croak, as his heart pounds through the cotton of his t-shirt and into my breasts.

A brutal knock resounds at my door, rocking through my spine and the back of my skull.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“Kali!” Dark roars from the porch. “Open the motherfuckin’ door!”

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