Page 11 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

I pulled up on the side of a quiet road. There wasn’t a second wasted as I got out of the car and rushed around the front, only to catch Mila as she leapt from her seat and tried to run in the other direction. But I caught her arm, gripped it tight, and dragged her behind me as I stomped toward one of the stone pine trees. Branches snapped and crunched under my feet, and Mila cursed as she walked barefoot over the grueling terrain.

With a flick of my wrist, I twisted her arm and forced her back first against the tree. “What did you tell him?”

“You’re hurting me.”

“I asked you a motherfucking question. What did you tell him?” The hard tenor of my voice echoed below the tall trees, and I immediately saw the fear in her eyes.

“Nothing. I told him nothing.”

“And what did my father offer you?”

“What makes you think he offered me anything?”

I smiled coldly and brought my hand up to her throat. “No one knows my father as well as I do. He puts a price on everything. So, tell me, Mila. What. Did he. Offer you?”

Her chest rose and fell as she took one labored breath after the other, and I could feel her wildly beating pulse against my fingertips wrapped around her neck.

“He told me he could get our marriage annulled, and if I made an official statement that you forced me to marry you, he could get me my shares back.”

I tightened my grip on her wrist and throat, forcing her chin up toward me. “Did you do it?”

She reached for the hand I had around her neck. “Yes.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying. I told him everything. I told him how you killed Brad, kidnapped me, and forced me to marry you. I told him fucking everything.”

I leaned down and brought my lips close to hers, her pulse rising with her rapid breaths. “You’re lying, Mila,” I whispered and brought my thumb up to her bottom lip. “You didn’t tell him shit.”

“Oh, yes, I did. When he offered me an annulment by sundown, I sang like a fucking bird.”

I gripped her throat tighter, forcing her to crane her neck. “You’re a bad liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

She yanked at my arm, but I didn’t move a muscle. “You want to play this game, Mila? Fine.” I took a step forward and crowded her between my body and the tree as I let go of her wrist, slipping my hand down her side. “When you ran from me, I felt nothing. When you stood on the other side of the road, turning toward me, your eyes gleaming with tears, it did nothing to thaw the hate in my veins.” My fingers curled under the seam of her skirt, and I yanked it up her thigh, snaking my fingers under the fabric. “When I watched you get into that car with Raphael, being taken farther and farther away from me, I didn’t feel a sense of loss, helplessness.” I leaned down and brushed my lips against her jaw as I cupped her ass in my palm, the sound of her breath hitching filling my ear and slamming against the tip of my cock. “I felt nothing when I spent two fucking hours not knowing whether you were safe or not. Absolutely fucking nothing.”

Her skirt bunched up around her waist, black panties covering her sweet cunt, yet it posed no resistance when I tore my fingers through it so easily.

The scent of her floral perfume and the feel of her soft curls against my cheek made the world around me spin out of control, my cock hard and desperate to slip inside her.

Her grip around my arm loosened, her rigid body going lax against mine with every passing second.

I lifted my head and looked her in the eyes. “Now, tell me, Mila. Am I telling the truth? Or was everything I just said a fucking lie?” With a gentle touch, I eased my hand around her hip and down between her legs. I dragged a leisurely stroke of my finger through her pussy lips which greeted me with slick arousal. Her eyes rolled closed, and I abruptly plunged a finger inside her. “Look at me,” I demanded. “Look me in the fucking eye and tell me whether I’m lying.”

Her emerald gaze locked onto mine, and her lips parted as warm breaths wafted from her lungs. There was nothing or no one, only us in that moment. The entire goddamn world disappeared, and I wanted her to see every lie that just came out of my mouth. I wanted this woman to look deep into my soul and see how her running from me fucked with my head in ways I never experienced before. There were no words to describe the emotions that torpedoed inside me during the two hours she was gone—that was why I needed her to see it, because there was no way I’d be able to explain it.

She didn’t say a word. All she did was stare into my eyes for what felt like an eternity, my finger still buried inside her body as she searched my soul for every secret. It was as if she tried reaching into the depths of my humanity, hunting for a weakness I never had before her.

I was a captive in that moment and didn’t even realize her hands had moved until I felt her unbuckling my belt, her gaze not leaving mine for a second. The second she wrapped her fingers around my cock, I groaned as lust anchored me to the spot. I couldn’t move away. I didn’t want to move away even though I was still angry at her for running from me. For not trusting me. Did I blame her? No. But I was still furious about it, nonetheless.

She freed my cock and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, her cheeks flushed, and my palm between her legs was soaked, her body primed for me to fuck her right there and then with nothing but a tree hiding us from passing cars.

I bit my lip, unable to contain the raging lust that possessed me, the lethal mix of anger and desire killing all inhibitions. I let go of her throat and grabbed her waist, twisting her around and pushing her front against the tree, birds chirping above us in the heat of the late afternoon sun.

Seconds. Moments. Time. It stood still as if fate had paused the world around us so we could lose ourselves. And as I grabbed both her hips, pulling her out toward me, I knew not even a gun to the head would be able to stop me from fucking her. The way she arched her back and pushed her ass toward me, I knew she craved it almost as much as I did, and I refused to waste any more time, pummeling into her as if I had been starved for this moment my entire life.

She cried out when the tip of my cock hit against her core, her voice echoing through the tree branches. I reached for her hair, twisting my fingers through her curls, pulling her head back as I thrust harder, deeper, faster. Nothing about this was sweet, or tender, or even remotely close to romantic. It was hard. Carnal. Filthy fucking.

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