Page 127 of Sin With Me

Smiling to myself, I step up behind her and settle my hands on her hips. She’s changed from the dress she was wearing earlier, and based on her wet hair piled in a bun, I’m guessing she’s showered.

A brief moment of insecurity fills me as vitriolic words flit through my mind, sounding a hell of a lot like my father’s voice.

Why did she change? Shower?

Did she have a reason to?

Is she covering something up?

She was home alone with Roman, and they have a past, a history. Of course, she’d go right back to him. I’m nothing.

Nothing.

Noth–

“I missed you,” she murmurs, sinking into my touch. Her words effectively end the spiral forming inside me, and I settle into her, letting her familiarity keep me present. “Where’d you go?”

My spine stiffens again.

I don’t want to talk about where I went or what caused me to leave in the first place. It’s taking all my damn willpower to stay here, in this room, ignoring the dark presence looming behind us.

Instead of answering, I slide a hand up her body, grazing over her leggings and long t-shirt. She tenses but doesn’t stop me. My fingers ghost over her exaggerated curves and a sense of pride fills me, knowing how stunning she is, how perfect, how mine.

“I missed you, too,” I say, not so quietly. The sound of his lighter flicking again, and again, at a quick pace, makes me smile inside.

Reaching her throat, I tip her jaw back, making her look up at me. She is barely breathing, her muscles locked like a bug caught in a spider's web. I like it. Probably too much. Having her at my mercy is a heady thing.

Without a word, I press my lips to hers, swallowing down her shocked gasp. It takes her a second, but then she melts into me, letting me take my fill of her sweet taste. She makes a sound of contentment in the back of her throat and my hand tightens around her hip, dragging her thick ass into my cock.

My spine tingles with the knowledge that he’s watching, seeing the way I touch her, seeing the way she responds to me. The way she so effortlessly sinks into my body, my kiss. The way she gives herself to me, freely, willingly, happily.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I heard his teeth grind.

She pulls away first, and it makes my jaw tick, but I allow it. I want her to give me full submission, want her to let me take control of everything. It’s my job. I need those things from her.

But I know it’ll take time.

I choose to say nothing and release her, fighting the desire to slap her perfect ass before I go. She sighs and picks up the bowl she’d been preparing as I make my way to my seat, finding my glass of water, plate, and utensils already there like they are every other night. A sick sense of satisfaction fills me when I realize there’s no place setting for him.

Eve hasn’t served Roman.

She doesn’t want him here any more than I do.

That thought alone has even more anxiety leaving me.

Her eyes flit between the two of us and her shoulders sag. She sets the dish in the center of the table before returning to the counter to grab the last two plates and coming back. Roman leans forward, his legs spread wide and his elbows on the table as he tracks her, that fucking cigarette still between his lips.

A billow of smoke comes from him, and I hold my breath as I bat it away from my face. He’s like a fucking chimney. Since when did he start smoking? I don’t remember him ever doing this shit.

“Put it out,” I bark. “No smoking at the table.”

His glare slides to me as Eve takes her place in the seat between us. I’m at one head of the table, he’s at the other. He never sat there. His spot was always across from Eve, never across from me.

With his eyes on mine, he takes a long drag before pinching the cigarette between his fingers. The smoke stays in his lungs as he presses the ember-tip into the old wood, snuffing it.

“Roman!” Eve gasps, her chair screeching as she pushes it back. I don’t know what she thinks she can do. She can’t fix it. The damage is already done. He’s burned a hole in our damn table.

I swear I see his lips tuck up in a smirk as he releases the smoke poisoning his lungs, letting it blow over the food in front of us. A muscle feathers in my cheek, and my hands ball into tight fists on my lap. I can’t handle this. He’s too much.

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