Page 27 of Wicked Sin

His grip on my shoulder is hard. Unyielding. I push against it, but he doesn’t move. I’m pinned against the wall. Against my will, my body starts to react.

No.

But I can’t help it. There’s a twisted part of me that likes this. I’ve already noticed how good-looking he is. How nice he smells. And my asshole meter is strong.

Detective Vasquez is rude. Harsh. Domineering.

But he’s not cruel.

That’s key. I know, because I’ve been pinned against a wall by many a cruel man, and it doesn’t feel anything like this.

More than a few of my fantasies involve being held against a wall by a man like Detective Vasquez. A good man. Rude, crude, harsh—and good.

Not now, Taylor.

Not ever.

But his face is right there. His full mouth, those perfect lips pushed up in an arrogant sneer. Why do arrogant sneers, fuelled by righteous indignation, have to be my undoing?

And again, that little voice in the back of my mind whispers that we could turn him. He’s a good-looking man. We know how to play men.

We could play him and get laid in the process.

What’s the harm?

“You could get yourself killed, Taylor.” Luke drags me back into the very unsexy life-or-death conversation.

“I didn’t.”

“That’s not the point.” His grip tightens, and the hard press of his fingers against my upper arm is more effective than a caress on my breast or between my legs.

Heat rushes through me.

“We agreed this would be by my rules,” he spits out angrily. “And then you tried to run. That’s not going to work.”

“Clearly.” I don’t bother to hide the edge in my voice. Let him think I’m a petulant brat. It’s better than him knowing the truth. “I’ll try harder next time.”

“There will not be a next time.”

“Or else?”

“Don’t test me.”

“Sorry, that’s just how I roll.”

“Fuck, Taylor. Do you have a death wish?”

“I don’t know.” Three little whispered words.

His eyes go wide.

Fuck.

The next thing I hear is his hand smacking the wall beside my head, and he brings his face—that mouth—right up against mine. “You’re hiding too much from me,” he snarls. “Too fucking much. I’m done playing in the dark, you hear me? Tell me what the hell is going on. Tell me why you’re here. Why did we have to come to Washington?”

“I told you.” I take as much of a breath as I can manage. There’s an ugly lump in my throat. “I needed to talk to my sister and find out what she knows. She’s not wrapped up in anything. I promise.”

“This isn’t where your sister lives.”

---