Page 56 of The Sinner: James

“Okay...” I mumble.

He tucks his phone in his pocket, his hand still locked onto my hair.

“Can you let go of me?” I ask spitefully.

He shifts his gaze to my face, his attention not entirely back to me.

“You’re coming with me,” he orders, already hauling me toward the house.

“No. I’m not,” I say, pulling back and freezing in the middle of the footpath.

He stops and turns to me, searing me with his eyes.

“Yes, you are. I’m not discussing this with you.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t change my mind.”

“What about your date?”

“She’s not my date. She’s already home,” he says, grabbing me by the elbow and forcing me to walk.

“You mean the whorehouse,” I mumble under my breath, stopping again and yanking my arm out of his grasp.

He shifts to me, his eyes cutting through me like a sharp sword.

I feel his grip around my arm again.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing.”

His free hand wraps around my neck, his thumb pressing into my cheek hard.

He leans toward me, his eyes spitting fire.

“Who’s the fucking coward now, Rain?”

Our eyes clash, his breath searing my lips, my blood heated from his touch.

“I mean the place where you keep the women you fuck,” I say defiantly, finding dark pleasure in stirring him up.

He grabs my chin and tilts my face up.

“You should watch your fucking mouth, sweetie, unless you want to become one of them,” he growls, no shred of humor in his voice.

His words zap through my brain–– I find them so outrageous I push them back.

“I’m not your fucking ‘sweetie’,” I shoot back.

His gaze drifts to my chest and legs, an unnerving smile flashing across his lips.

“Oh… I think you are,” he says, appraising my assets with an expert eye.

Observing me, he ponders.

His eyes light up with a lustful smile as he registers my heaving chest.

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