Page 15 of Dirty Little Sins

My body tightened just thinking about her beautiful body chained and bared to me. Our time together before had barely scratched the surface of what I wanted to experience with her and the vision of her naked on this bed threatened to mess with my head. Not that I didn't appreciate the view right in front of me now, because I did.

The blood red dress she'd chosen for the party hugged every delicious curve, from the full hips I loved to grab when I thrusted into her from behind to the voluptuous tits that looked like they wanted to spill from the top of her dress so I could wrap my tongue around each dusky nipple.

I groaned as my cock pushed tight against the pants I still hadn't fully fastened. She'd arrived early as expected, but I hadn't planned on her showing up in here.

Depending on how you wanted to look at it, the timing of her arrival was either the worst in the world or incredibly perfect. Although despite the need coursing through me as I stood watching her, I knew getting her into that bed wouldn't be this easy. Just like she hadn't agreed to meet me for that drink and I'd stood there like a chump nursing a cocktail while I waited.

Still... When opportunity tossed me a bone this juicy, I couldn't resist throwing her off guard again. I smiled and stepped forward into the doorway.

"If that bed wasn't so damned perfectly functional, I'd be tempted to call it art."

She gasped and jumped at the dark timbre of my voice that had come out much rougher than I'd intended. But I was fucking hungry and the woman in front of me was the only thing that would satisfy said hunger.

Enough was enough.

"Vincent," she cried. "What are you doing here?" She took several steps back towards the doorway, wobbling slightly on her heels. "And why aren't you wearing clothes?"

I tried not to laugh at her reaction, but the grumbling sound escaped anyway. "I've got pants on."

Her gaze finally wandered from where it had been locked onto my bare chest and down to my pants. I swear I felt that slow perusal as intimately as if she'd touched me with her hands and I didn't want it to stop.

Until her face twisted into an unlikely mixture of what looked like anger and possibly pain.

What the hell?

"Oh God. You were..." She took a step back. "You're with someone else." She nearly choked on that last word, an action I shamelessly took great satisfaction in. For a split second it crossed my mind to let her believe that might be true. Jealousy had a way of bringing other emotions to the forefront as well and I was willing to work with whatever I could get. The end result always justified the means.

However, in this delicate of a situation, one of perceived broken trust, I decided that would not be the right approach to take with her.

"No, beautiful. I am not. That has not been the case at all since I met you."

She still looked horrified. "Then why—"

"Because you walked in on me getting dressed for the party."

For a moment she looked confused, but that expression cleared a moment later and she again took steps away from me.

"This isyoursuite."

It didn't sound like a question so I didn't bother to answer. I did, however, take steps in her direction. I didn't like that she wanted to put extra space between us when I'd do anything to bring us closer. It went directly against my plan and it needed to stop.

"This is your—your party," she whispered.

"Yes," I nodded. Demanding The Sinclair management that their new resident chef had to cater this party had been an easy task and I wouldn't back down from that.

"That's why I'm here. You set me up. Again." Her back stiffened and that fire she barely kept banked inside her came to life. "How dare you?"

Another chuckle bubbled in my chest. I'd known she would be riled, but I liked riled. "I dared because I know how good you are at your job. And there are important guests here tonight that need to be impressed. And I wanted to see you again." I wasn't going to lie if that's what she thought. She might not like everything I had to say, but every word would be the truth.

She was shaking her head and I half expected her to start stomping her high heeled shoes at any second. Sexy as fuck shoes I noted by the way. Those would look especially incredible when she bent over later and I fucked her from behind.

Again.

This train of thought wasn't going to be conducive to having a reasonable conversation with Zia if I couldn't get my dick under control. She'd already noticed my pants undone and with my cock straining to get free this conversation was going to go in the wrong direction if we both weren't careful.

"This isn't right," she stated flatly. "You're not right. Haven't you interfered enough in my life? What is wrong with you?"

That pithy question pulled me free from my erotic thoughts as effectively as if she'd thrown ice water in my face. Anger surged between us as the days since we'd last been together disappeared and the memory of her anger then filled my head. I was done taking the blame for those pictures. Instead we were going to do something about it.

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