Page 88 of Never Die for a Sinner
“You don’t even have a pen.”
I bite back my smirk, pulling one from the inside pocket of my jacket and sliding it across the table to her.
“I have your word?” she asks, and for once, when she meets my gaze, it’s head-on. I can’t deny it hits like a thousand watts shooting up my spine. “You’ll take care of her?”
Fucking finally . . . She’s mine.
“Consider it done.”
Ava’s silent when I shove the car in park outside Cross Estate. The moment the engine is off, she’s out the door and storming toward the house. I can’t do anything but chuckle and follow her.
Little brat’s on a warpath.
She attempts to shut her bedroom door in my face, but my boot stops it, sending it rebounding back into the wall.
Ava’s eyes go wide as she spins at the edge of her bed, then they narrow on me when I step into the room after her.
“I want to be alone.”
“Too bad,” I grunt, closing the door behind me.
It’s a bad idea because there’s nothing stopping me from fucking her with the door closed.
Well . . . nothing but her, but I don’t think it would take much to get her ready and begging for me again.
“Let me see.”
She looks at my outstretched hand like it’s crawling with maggots.
“Why?”
I cock a brow and fix her with a look. She blushes deeply and begrudgingly lays her fingers in mine so I can tug her over to the bed. My cock pulses against my jeans. It’s ridiculous. A simple touch of her soft skin against mine, and it’s all I can think about.
Spreading her out underneath me to see what she’d feel like, nothing separating us, so I could use her entire body to draw those sweet little whimpers from her lips.
Fucking hell.
Ignoring the burn in my chest, I slowly unwrap the bandages covering the burns on her wrists. They look a lot better than they did this morning, but they still need to be covered.
“I can do it,” she argues when I grab the ointment and bandages I’d stashed in her nightstand last night.
I don’t even give her an answer. I just push her back on the bed. She lands on her ass, bouncing, and looks up at me, her mouth falling open.
I shrug, drag a chair from the corner, and sit in front of her, dragging her until she’s in between my legs. She blushes with my hands on her thighs, as if I haven’t already seen all of her.
She’s silent while I clean the burns, gritting her teeth to hide her grimace when I swipe an alcohol pad over the wounds.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” she says softly, watching me work.
I know I’m going to regret this. “You can.”
“Why did you lose your job?”
Well, fuck.
“Are you asking if I did something wrong?”
She looks over my shoulder, and it’s answer enough.
