Page 41 of Protected By the Sinner
“Who took your choices from you, Amber?”
“No one.”
“Is that one of the lies you said you’d tell me if I asked about your past?”
“Yes. Besides, being around you is rubbing off on me, because I’ve decided—”
I’m paying close attention, but before she can finish, we’re interrupted.
“LeBlanc, what a surprise,” Gael Oviedo says, greeting us with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s an actor, of course—a good one, or he wouldn’t have been cast in one of my company’s films. But not good enough to hide that something serious is going on in his life right now.
“Gael, good to see you. How’s the family?” I ask, genuinely concerned. His father had two strokes a few years back. The Oviedos are good people.
“All good. Babies coming fast. My brothers decided to get married like we’d all caught some kind of love virus or something.” He turns his attention to Amber and, being who he is, takes her hand and brings it to his lips. “Gael Oviedo, Miss . . .?”
“Amber Martin,” she replies, completely different from her usual sassy tone. She seems intimidated.
I pull her closer to me in a not-so-subtle display of possession, and now Gael gives me a real smile.
“Congrats on the film,” she says.
“Thanks. I’ll leave you two alone now, or I might not make it to the end of the screening alive,” he jokes, giving her a wink.
Damn Spaniard.
“We can leave if you want,” Amber says.
“You sure? I thought you were having fun,” I tease.
She steps closer, clearly forgetting we’re in public, pressing our bodies together. “I’m sure. I’ve had more than I expected tonight. I’m ready to go if you are.”
I stare at her silently. She doesn’t flinch.
“Let’s go,” I say.
I beat the driver to the door and open it for her to get in without really understanding why I’m so pissed off.
Nothing happened. And besides, Amber’s not mine to be territorial over. Still, I feel a little unhinged.
As she sits down, the slit of her dress opens, revealing her long thigh.
Either she doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care, but I can’t ignore it. Needing to let out some of the wild mess of emotions I can’t seem to process, I fall back on what I know—sex—and let my hand rest on her bare skin.
She stiffens but doesn’t stop me. Instead, she turns her head and looks at me.
The sexual tension between us is suffocating. Her skin tingles beneath my fingers.
Whether consciously or not, her thighs part.
I check the divider between us and the driver—it’s up. Confirming we have privacy, I unbuckle both of our seatbelts and lay her down across the seat.
“Beau . . .”
“I want you screaming my name when you come, Amber.”
Chapter 18
There’s no time for calm or preparation.
