Page 74 of Sweet Sinners
My heart quickens at his proximity, every nerve in my body suddenly alert. I turn back toward the wall, hyperaware of his firm, reassuring presence behind me. Connor might deny he's one of the good ones, but he is. God, he is. I could do so much worse, even if he believes the opposite.
His hand begins tracing lazy, hypnotic patterns along my side, fingertips grazing the bare skin beneath my shirt. The gentle caress pulls me closer, drawing me tight against the hardness of his body. I swallow hard, pulse racing as I realize he's shirtless, and every careful boundary I tried to set crumbles in an instant. Then again, it was me who promised to keep hands off—he never made such a promise.
"I've got you, Cali," he whispers into my ear, voice husky with sleep. "Relax. You're safe here."
I sigh softly, biting down on my lower lip as a fresh wave of heat blooms low in my belly. "Both of us?"
When I squirm restlessly, he growls low in warning, fingers gripping my hip tighter to hold me still. "No moving," he says roughly, his voice strained. A shiver travels down my spine, thrilling and dangerous. When I obey, he relaxes slightly, tone softening. "We're both safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."
"I know," I whisper, melting further into him.
"Then stop worrying. I'm very dedicated to this job," he murmurs, lips brushing my neck in a barely-there kiss. His breath fans across my skin, sending sparks of desire racing through me. "Go to sleep, Angel. Be a good girl for me."
His words ignite something deep inside me—a craving, a need I never knew existed. Praise has never affected me like this, but hearing Connor say those words, I suddenly want more. I want him to tell me exactly how good I am.No. No.I squeeze my eyes shut, willing sleep to claim me before I cross any more lines.
Yet the thought still slips free, whispered softly into the dark. "Do you think our parents would be disappointed?"
Connor doesn't answer. His breathing steadies into a soothing rhythm, his heartbeat strong and comforting against my back, gradually lulling me toward sleep. I cling desperately to the feeling of his warmth, aware that tomorrow, everything changes. We're about to shake the foundations, unleash chaos, and nothing good ever comes without a price.
We’re going to get hurt. Something at work, something between us—one way or another, pain is inevitable. But tonight might be our last chance at peace, at calm before the storm.
I'd like to believe my father would be proud of me—of how I’ve taken hold of his legacy, how fiercely I'm fighting to bring him justice.
Even if he’d never approve of whose bed I'm in.
Chapter thirty-three
Connor
Sleepisabsolutehell.
Every time I drift close to the edge, Cali shifts in my arms, and suddenly I’m either painfully hard or obsessively replaying every detail, convinced I’ve missed something crucial. Twice I force myself out of bed, carefully untangling my limbs from hers, and cross the room to check if Nathan’s gotten back to me yet.
He hasn’t had much luck.
Nathan—my cellmate for a year, one of Dante’s contacts—is someone I’d trust with my life. Hell, I already have. He’s sharp, the best damn hacker I know, responsible for scheduling our fights and handling the bets that flowed through the prison like dirty secrets.But this time, even he’s hit a wall. The threatening number was a disposable cell, dead-end, inactive now. No traces, no leads—just another ghost slipping through our fingers.
The second number led to a local landline, but nothing Nathan could uncover went deeper than what the cops would already know.
Frustration simmers beneath my skin, restless and violent. I’m chasing shadows, desperate to protect the girl who’s burrowed herself so deep into me I don’t know how to breathe without her anymore. Yet every lead only brings us back to zero.
I glance at Cali sleeping peacefully in my bed, her face soft in the moonlight. For a moment, I let myself wish that none of this mattered—that it was just her and me, untouched by the ugliness that won’t stop hunting us.
But wishes never got me anywhere.
Only fighting has.
When Cali starts to stir against me, my body betrays me instantly. I’m painfully hard, desire burning through me, uninvited. I grit my teeth and tell myself it’s just morning wood—a normal, physical reaction—not because her perfect ass has been pressed against me all night, not because of those soft, sleepy sounds escaping her lips as she stretches against me.
I tighten my arm around her, fighting for control. "Stop moving, Cali."
She freezes instantly, a small gasp muffled by the quick press of her hand over her mouth. The realization that I might've frightened her punches through my chest. Shame floods me, bitter and sharp. I pull back immediately, sliding out of bed, clearing my throat to hide the guilt clawing at me.
"Let's get ready," I say roughly, avoiding her eyes. "Then we can call the police."
"Okay," she whispers.
I pause by the door, one hand gripping the frame tightly as I glance back at her. She’s still frozen, curled up in my sheets, small and vulnerable. Something deep in my gut twists, and I force out the words. "I'm sorry if I scared you."
