Page 153 of The Sinner: James

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Am I going to be in your next book?” he asks, his forget-me-not eyes twinkling between his dark lashes.

A sultry, lazy smile lines his lips.

Blood pools in parts of my body that have nothing to do with my cheeks.

“It’s not that kind of book,” I say boldly, holding his gaze, although a shiver sweeps my spine.

We share a stare for a few more moments before he peels his gaze away from me as if he’s found his answer.

“Is there anything else you’d like to order?” he asks.

“No.”

He motions to the waiter before rising to his feet, holding his hand out for me.

Looking at him, I follow his example, my hand connecting with his smoothly.

The server stops in front of us.

“Charge it to my account,” he says curtly.

The server nods in response.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Have a wonderful evening, Miss,” the man says politely, sliding my chair back in its place.

The stranger and I stop briefly to retrieve my coat before heading to a private elevator.

We ride up in silence, his hand holding mine as if we’ve planned this evening all along.

As if we’re sharing a life together outside this hotel.

The elevator pulls to a smooth stop before the doors slide open with a whisper. We enter his suite a few seconds later.

Gallantly, he helps me take off my coat and shrugs out of his suit jacket.

He walks to a small bar.

“Do you want something to drink?”

He glances at me over his shoulder.

“Seriously, now,” he murmurs.

I give him a small smile.

“No. Thank you.”

I strut to the large windows overlooking Manhattan, splay my fingers over the glass, and look down.

What a difference a few hours make.

A dark square of misery outlines the window where I sat a couple of hours ago, only a few blocks away.

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