Page 23 of Dirty Big Sins

Instead I took a deep breath, filling my head with Vincent’s scent until finally Callum took a step back and we moved forward.

I couldn’t resist glaring at the other boxer as we passed and was shocked to see the humor fill his eyes that he quickly followed with a bark of laughter.

“Guess I was wrong. Your woman looks ready to fight me right now. Maybe you should consider letting her take the ring next week. Then maybe I’d have a challenging opponent.”

“Fuck you,” I spat before Vincent could stop me. This prick needed to be put in his place and the longer we remained in his presence, the more I wanted Vincent to kick his ass.

Fortunately, we were through the door and I was being ushered into the back of a black SUV before anything else could happen. I pushed across the butter soft leather bench seat and took another attempt at a calming breath as Vincent climbed in behind me.

He’d no sooner closed his door than the vehicle slid forward and out into the road. Only then did my brain finally grasp that Vincent and I were completely alone. Zack and his cameras had disappeared as had the group of women I’d spent my evening with.

“Wait.” I swung around to look out the back window. “Where is everyone else?”

“In the cars behind us. I made sure everyone would get back to the hotel safely.”

I didn’t know when he had time to make those arrangements as we’d gone from arguing in our booth, to dealing with his opponent and to the car in under five minutes and he’d not spoken to anyone else in that time. But a peek out the back window did show two other black SUVs following not far behind so I relaxed back into my seat.

Well, as relaxed as I could get with the man sitting next to me and his presence a living, breathing thing that made it difficult for me to get enough air in such a confined space.

I wanted to turn and look at him, but I didn’t dare. This close I could feel my resistance wavering. And I hated admitting, even to myself, that I’d missed him. God, this was so frustrating.

I grabbed my temples and pressed. Shit was getting worse no matter what I seemed to do.

“Let me.”

I jerked at his voice as he brushed away my fingers and replaced them with his own. A deep sigh slipped from me before I could stop it. The warmth and pressure he applied felt sublime.

A quiet but deep chuckle sounded from him. I refused to look. REFUSED. I had to keep my focus. A battle I was quickly losing as his fingers worked their magic on my aching head.

“Turn and lie back.”

I jerked, my head turning until our gazes collided.

Shit.

The deep dark warmth of his gaze reminded me of molten chocolate stirred delicately in a double boiler until it was perfectly melted. Violence and lies aside, he was literally the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I didn’t care if others would describe his looks as too rough or too unrefined. I only saw perfection when I looked at him.

If I were a painter instead of a chef, I would have to paint him. A photograph was nice, but the consistency and texture of real paint on a canvas had a way of telling a slightly different story. Something deeper.

“Those look like some intense thoughts.” He brought his finger to my forehead and rubbed at the lines I was sure had been furrowed in my examination. “What is it that makes you so tense? Me?”

A pithy comeback hit my tongue, but I swallowed it down before it could slip out. This absolutely wasn’t the time. I was too tired to spar with him. Instead I turned back around and settled my head to his chiseled chest, again marveling at the warmth sizzling across my back.

“Among other things. Today has been an excruciating day in a long week of rough ones.”

“Tell me,” he coaxed, his fingers continuing their massage at my temples.

For a moment I didn’t respond as I simply soaked in his heat and that electric touch of his. If I lingered a little longer than I should that didn’t mean it had anything to do with the bunching of my nipples against my bra or the heat gathering between my legs.

Or the fact that he was trying to take care of me again.

He was still the man who’d lied to me. Although I shouldn’t have to keep telling myself that to remember. Dammit.

“Things aren’t going particularly well with the restaurant or with the show.” The admission came out on a hushed whisper, but I knew he’d heard me. Vincent was the kind of man who really listened. For whatever reason he paid attention to the smallest details.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Whether it was because I’d finally relaxed for more than ninety seconds or because I was a complete idiot, I decided to open up. “Well, Zack just informed me that the network has hired my sous chef in my absence, which means I have to get this straightened out tonight.”

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