Page 42 of Never Die for a Sinner
“What’s fun about life,” he says smoothly, grabbing another piece, “if you don’t cheat a little to get what you want?”
His gaze is fire and smoke and warning bells all at once. And then—just when I think the moment can’t get any more unbearable—he dips another segment into the sugar and holds it out for me.
Right between his fingers.
I reach to take it, but he pulls back just out of reach.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
I glance back toward the doorway, silently shaking my head.
He grins down at me with the kind of expression that should come with a warning label. The glint in his icy blue eyes is anything but innocent.
“Open, Ava,” he says, voice dipping lower, rougher. Commanding.
My breath hitches. “Make me.”
His hand is on my face in an instant—fingers curling beneath my chin, thumb pressing against my cheek, pinching gently until my lips part in shock.
I don’t move. I can’t. His eyes are locked on mine, and I’m rooted to the spot like a puppet strung too tightly.
Then, with excruciating slowness, he slides the sugar-coated segment across my tongue. My lips close instinctively aroundhis fingers, and I swear the whole world narrows down to this moment.
“Suck,” he murmurs, voice so dark it coils low in my belly like heat struck from flint.
Holy. Shit.
My brain short-circuits. Heat travels through my veins, and I shift awkwardly in my chair at the rough tone of his voice. I swirl my tongue around his fingers in my mouth in a momentary lapse of judgement, I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from.
“That’s it. Good girl.”
God, save me.
Defiantly, I nip the pad of his finger in protest. His grin only deepens, satisfied and thoroughly unbothered, before he finally, slowly, drags his fingers from my mouth.
The way he looks at me… like he’s already imagined a thousand more ways to ruin me.
And God help me, I might let him.
He trails his thumb along my lower lip, watching it glisten. My whole body is on fire.
This is Levi Cross. The man who’s made it his personal mission to torment me since the day I set foot on Cross Estate. I do not want him.
Not in the real, meaningful sense. Not in the let’s-ruin-our-lives sense.
. . . Right?
Just like I said: I need to get laid. Maybe then my body will stop throwing itself at the human equivalent of a hurricane in dark jeans.
“Baby girl…” he drawls, leaning in close. “You make it really hard not to ruin you.”
I blink at him. “W-what?” I stammer. My brain has officially entered blender mode.
He smirks, and it’s devastating. That kind of smile should be outlawed.
“Oh no,” Mila’s voice giggles from the doorway, and I nearly fall out of my chair.
I jerk back so fast I nearly crash to the floor, heart hammering like it’s trying to escape my chest.
