Page 100 of Sweet Sinners
"You were never dangerous," I whisper breathlessly, rolling my hips to take him deeper. "Not to me."
Chapter forty-seven
Connor
Six Months Later
"Calliope," I call out, shaking my head at the disaster she’s left in the kitchen. Typical. She always leaves a mess when she attempts to cook—ingredients scattered everywhere, pans forgotten. It drives me insane, but I secretly love it. It means she needs me.
"Hurry up, you're missing it!" she shouts back from the living room.
I chuckle softly, abandoning the mess for once and walking toward her. She’s curled up on the couch in one of those sinful little dresses she loves, completely oblivious—or maybe too aware—of what itdoes to me. Six months together, and Cali still hasn’t figured out that I can't concentrate on anything but her when she's dressed like this.
Or maybe that's exactly the point.
Groaning, I sink down beside her and immediately pull her against me, my hand settling possessively on her thigh. "These damn dresses," I murmur against her ear, lips brushing her neck, making her shiver. "Showing off your legs, distracting me."
"I'm celebrating," she teases softly, nodding toward the television screen. "Look."
I glance up just as the news footage zooms in on Anna. She’s wearing glasses today, trying to play the quiet, innocent role, but there's no hiding the fury simmering beneath. It burns coldly in her eyes, dark and sharp, a quiet anger that poisons from the inside out.
She's getting exactly what she deserves.
It's the final day of her trial. Her lawyer’s arguments are pathetic—desperation dressed in a cheap suit. He tries insanity again, then temporary madness, tossing every excuse he can think of into the air. But the evidence we handed over—the camera footage, the Reddit posts, Anna’s own angry texts—has made her guilt crystal clear. Not even the judge looks convinced by the circus her defense has created.
Cali stiffens slightly, her muscles tensing under my hand. "But what if—" she starts, voice barely above a whisper.
I squeeze her thigh gently, pulling her tighter against me. "Even if they somehow buy it, even if she's declared insane, the whole world already knows what she did. Her life is over either way."
She exhales slowly, the tension melting from her shoulders as she nods. Her hand slides over mine, gripping my fingers gently, the quiet reassurance more powerful than words.
Anna will get what’s coming to her. But we—we've already won where it counts.
Cali hums softly, her gaze drifting to my ankle as if she still doesn’t fully believe the bracelet’s been off for months. She checked the day I took her to the lake to watch the leaves turn gold, and again the night we had our first public date, the night I stopped caring who saw us together.
We haven't made any official announcements, but anyone who sees us knows. It's impossible not to notice. The way Cali looks at me—raw affection, pride, love—it tells the world she’s mine clearer than words ever could.
I can’t stop touching her, needing constant reminders that she’s here, safe, whole. Ever since Anna walked into this house with a knife and a gun, Cali hasn't spent a single night alone. And the nights she travels for work? They’re hell. My nightmares play on a loop—Cali strangled, shot, bleeding out—until I wake soaked in sweat, reaching for her.
She nuzzles against my neck now, pulling me out of my dark thoughts. "Stop thinking so hard. They're announcing the verdict."
"Already? I thought we were still watching closing arguments."
"They prerecorded them. We just need one last win," she whispers softly. "Though, I wish she'd pled guilty."
I shake my head. "She would've gotten a lighter sentence. That's why I made sure the lawyers didn't offer her a deal."
Cali goes quiet, her palm sliding slowly up my chest, stopping right over the spot where the bullet tore through. Her breath hitches softly, and she presses a gentle kiss to my neck. "I love you. If her aim had been even an inch higher...I think I would’ve killed her."
I gently turn her face toward mine, brushing my thumb across her chin. "No more talk about killing—from either of us. Death stays in the past. Our future?" My voice softens, steady, certain. "It's long andhappy. We've earned it. Speaking of...how did it go with Dr. Anderson?"
She smiles softly, eyes brightening. "Good. Really good."
Relief settles inside me. I'm grateful she resumed therapy—something I hadn’t even known she was doing until she admitted how intense her anxiety had become whenever we were apart.
I regret how little I knew her when we were younger. I was too busy raising hell, causing trouble, ignoring the quiet girl who was suddenly my stepsister. But maybe that was a good thing. Because now, I can’t imagine ever seeing Cali as anything other than the woman I love.
"Guilty!"
