Page 29 of Billionaire's Sins
He tilts his head. I tip up my chin. He arches an eyebrow and moisture beads between my legs. He holds out the helmet to me. I draw in a breath, take a step forward, another. By the time I reach him, I am shaking all over. Why does this man affect me so? What is it about him that makes me feel like I am back in high school and in the presence of my biggest ever crush? Umm, maybe because he is? Only it’s more than a crush I feel… It’s lust…love…? Nah, not that. Ridiculous. How could I be in 'anything' with this man whom I barely know at all?
But you do… You know enough about him. You know that he’s sensitive, that he wants to dedicate himself to a bigger cause, that he wants to help his people, that he wants to remain loyal to his vows, to stay faithful to his one true love.And how could that not impress me? Strangely, it’s the very things that make him unobtainable to me which also make him irresistible. And that, folks, neatly sums up the contradiction that my life often ties itself up in.
He places the helmet on my head. I peer up at him as he pushes the hair away from my neck, before snapping the strap under my chin. His fingertips brush my skin and a shiver races down my back.
He frowns, then pulls out a jacket, drapes it over my shoulders.
"What about you."
"I’m good," he mutters. "Besides, considering you’re not wearing much, you need this more than I do."
"I’m wearing enough," I huff as I shove my arms through the sleeves.
"Is that what you call…this…this…bandage that you are swaddled in?" He rakes his gaze down the dress that hits somewhere above my knees.
So, it’s a little tight, a little figure hugging, and maybe it emphasizes my boobs and the curve of my arse… But really, it’s perfectly respectable.Side note—yes, I had sorta hoped he’d end up in the bar.Speaking of… "How did you know where I was?" I frown.
"Isla called Sinclair who handed the phone over to me."
"Oh, wow." I blink. "That’s certainly a circuitous route to have taken for you to get to me."
"There are easier ways to get my attention," he grumbles.
"I wasn’t trying to get your attention," I retort.
"Weren’t you?"
"Of course, not," I lie. "I was merely out on the town, single and footloose, and ready to take someone home tonight—"
"Is that what you were trying to do in there?" He draws himself up to his full height, "Seemed to me, you were trying to get away from that man’s unwanted advances."
"I was managing myself well enough, until you came along."
His lips twist, "I am the last person you should be lying to, Eve."
Don’t say it. Don’t remind him. Don’t, Ava."Because you are a priest?"
His jaw tightens. That familiar polite mask—the one I hate, the one that implies that he’s hiding away the man behind the persona—is back on his face. Well, too bad. After all, he’s made it clear that there can be no relationship between us. So, he can hardly blame me for throwing that at him. And I didn’t throw it, as such. I mean, he is a priest. It’s his chosen vocation, so why the hell is he so pissed off with me now?
He turns away, straddles the bike, then starts the engine. The boom-boom-boom of the pipes fills the space.
He glances at me sideways. "Get on," he snaps.
I pull the jacket closer. The scent of him floods me and it feels like I am wearing him on myself. If this is the only way I’m going to get close to him, then so be it. I’ll take every opportunity I can to spend time with him. I throw my leg over and mount the steed.
He turns and asks, "You, okay?”
I nod.
"Hold on."
I slide in closer, place my hands on his waist. He zooms forward. I yell, then throw my arms around him as he accelerates. The front of my thighs and my chest are flush against him as he whizzes up the road. The cold air buffets my uncovered legs. I huddle even closer to the warmth that emanates from him. And for all that, he isn’t wearing a jacket, but he shows no signs of feeling the chill. He really has extra-hot blood. That must be why he’s also such a smokin’ hottie. I snicker against his back, and the muscles under his skin seem to ripple. The only thing separating me from him is my jacket and the thin shirt that he’s wearing. If I slipped my hand in between the plackets, I’d finally be able to touch, sense, feel what it means to be skin to skin with him.
Liquid heat pools in my core. My mouth waters. I turn my face into his shirt, draw from it deeply. The scent that is pure Edward overpowers my senses, and just like that, I am wet. Maybe I should bottle it. That way, when he’s not around, I can still sniff him. Hell, I could come just by touching myself as I smell him.Gah! Stop that…
He turns off the main road and I glance around me. Huh? This is not the way to my place, so where are we going? Is he taking me to his… Where does he live? Near the church? He can’t be taking me there…surely?
He turns off again, under a bridge, then around another roundabout, turns to the right, and there, in front of us, is the Tower Bridge, otherwise known as London Bridge, but from an angle I’ve never seen it.
