Page 22 of Sinning for Santa

Holy shit. Did I just shock Devon Marx?

“Youwent to Cloud 9?” he asks in disbelief, and I glare at him.

“Yes,Iwent to Cloud 9, and not for the first time I might add.”

Dammit. Why did I say that like I’m proud of that fact? I’m not. It’s… wrong.

“Wow,little mouse, you don’t really look like the type of girl that would go to a sex club.”

“Haven’t you heard the saying you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover?” I retort.

“Oh, I’ve heard it all right. And now I’m fucking intrigued to know what happened in Cloud 9 when little Miss Jaxcen Summers made an appearance.”

“That’s not part of my confession,” I snap, hoping to God he doesn’t dig for more information. This is already humiliating enough.

“Of course.” He lifts his hand from the steering wheel and waves it in the air. “Miss Summers, continue with your confession.”

I roll my eyes so hard it brings on an instant headache which is the last thing I need.

I clear my throat. “Father Peters asked when it happened, and I admitted that I went there tonight. And Sunday night. And Friday night.”

Throwing his head back, Devon’s laugh is loud in the confined space. “Oh wow. You’re a frequent flyer. I would never have fucking guessed.” He shakes his head, his grin wide. “Damn, little mouse.”

“I’m not a frequent flyer. I just go to watch.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I slap my hand over my lips, completely mortified. This is utterly humiliating and my gaze darts to the door handle.

Open it and jump, Jaxcen.

Before I can follow through with my inner demon’s demand, my gaze travels back to Devon to see the most sinister gaze staring back at me.

“So my little mouse is a voyeur.”

My lips thin, and I force them to remain sealed shut, not wanting to admit to that, but Devon simply shakes his head, pointing out the window to a road sign we pass on the side of the freeway.

“The next exit has an even better place I can bury you.”

Ugh. This man.

Never in my lifehave I wanted to punch someone more than I want to punch him.

“Fine.” I huff. “I guess I am kind of a voyeur.”

And there’s that shit-eating grin again.

Goddammit.

“So, little mouse, what did Father Peters have to say about you going to Cloud 9 so frequently?”

“He asked me what keeps drawing me back,” I divulge, not sure that I care about my pride anymore.

“Hell, I know what keeps drawing you back.” He nods, “But please continue. What is it that keeps drawing my little mouse back to Cloud 9?”

For another moment I contemplate opening the door of the Corvette and just slipping out to my death. Surely that would be less painful than having to admit my most darkest secrets to this animal. But then again, I get the feeling he probably wouldn’t be all that shocked by the thoughts I have. By the needs that drive me so many times back to a sex club despite the fact I’m engaged. Despite the fact my fiancé shames me for getting aroused and wanting to do more with him.

Maybe Devon Marx is exactly the right person to confess these types of sins to.

“My impure thoughts are what send me back,” I finally admit.

---