Page 309 of The Sinner: James

I walk out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my waist. Sliding my thumb over my phone screen, I pull up the messages.

Good. There’s nothing crazy going on.

Minutes later, I finish shaving and enter the walk-in closet. I pull my clothes on––boxer shorts, tailored pants, a slim-fit shirt, socks, and shoes––before rubbing a few drops of cologne against my skin, on my neck and chest.

I toss one last glance in the mirror and run my fingers through my hair before I walk out the door.

It takes me about thirty minutes to make it to the Dark House.

“She’s on the terrace, sir,” Martha, the housekeeper, says.

I nod to her, walk across the living room, leave the small conservatory behind, and head straight to the patio.

The lake sprawls out in front of me, small white crests rolling nearby. The wind has picked up, unsettling the water.

My footsteps make her lift her gaze.

“Morning,” I say, taking her in.

She wears a strapless white dress with a butterfly pattern, and her blonde hair rolls down her shoulders, waving and framing her beautiful face.

She looks like a pin-up girl.

Her eyes are narrowed as she lifts her hand and shields them from the sun, her face lighting up with a smile as I take a seat across from her.

“Coffee for me,” I say as Martha inches closer to the table.

Furtively glancing at me, Rain dabs her lips with an embroidered napkin and checks me out.

I have a hard time holding back a grin.

She notices my struggle, a smile rolling to her lips.

“You look good,” she says.

Smoothly, she sets the napkin on the table and runs the back of her fingers across my jawline, caressing my clean-shaven skin, the intimate gesture warming my face.

Martha sets the cup of coffee on the table before walking away.

I study Rain with narrowed eyes, unable to suppress my smile. Amused, she observes me as I let my gaze move over her face and dress.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.

“You’re an exquisite woman.”

Her nose creases with a grin.

“You’re biased because you like me now,” she says.

“Now? I liked you when you were an innocent girl. It has nothing to do with that.”

She lowers her eyes, a touch of blush tinging her cheeks.

She’s so many different women in one, and somehow, she has preserved her sweetness while morphing into a gorgeous, mind-blowing woman.

She wiggles her fingers in front of my eyes, trying to pull me back to reality.

“Where are you?”

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