Page 11 of Beautiful Sinners

“I don’t know who I am anymore.”

I cup the back of her neck and press a tender kiss to her sweet mouth. “No matter who you choose to be, you’ll always be ours.”

“I have so many questions, but I don’t want to think about any of them right now. Can you just hold me for a little while?”

I pull her to me with a gentle tug. Her slick skin and warm body feel like heaven when she cuddles against me.

I hold my girl tight as my thoughts turn to Aleksander, wondering when he’ll come for her—because he will. We just need to be ready when he does.

“How could I forget you and Tristan and Hendrix?”

Her sudden question breaks the quiet of the white noise generated by the curtain of water cascading over us.

“You didn’t. Not really.”

She pulls out of my arms and reaches for the pump bottle of shampoo sitting on the inset shelf, and I lower my head when she goes up on tiptoe, intending to wash my hair.

“When did you get so freaking tall?”

I hook one arm under her ass and heft her up off her feet so she can reach me more easily.

“Sixteen.”

That’s when I shot up five inches practically overnight. Hen did as well around the same time.

“I missed out on so much.” The grief in her voice pierces me like a serrated dagger.

After lathering my hair, she plays with it, alternating between flattening the strands with her palm and spiking them up to create a mohawk. When she’s done, I turn around and back up into the spray so she can rinse the shampoo out.

Her legs lift and circle my waist, placing my achingly hard cock I’ve been trying to ignore right at her pussy. I stifle the groan that wants to come when her wet heat beckons me to fuck her against the shower wall.

Eyes on me, she licks her lips and rotates her hips, and the tip of my shaft notches at her entrance.

“Aoife,” I warn. There’s only so much willpower I can muster with her naked in my arms.

She braces her hands on either side of my face, her fingertips digging into the back of my neck.

“I don’t want to be her yet. I want to be your Syn for a little while longer.”

What she says holds more meaning than she realizes.

“Please, Constantine. I just need to feel something good. I need you.”

There are so many reasons why this is a bad idea. She’s a mess—mentally, emotionally, physically—and needs time to heal. But just like she needs me, I need her, too, and I don’t care if my ribs or the rest of me hurts like hell where Aleksei’s guys kicked the crap out of me.

“I’m yours,” I tell her, and that’s all the permission she needs.

Using the grip her thighs have around my waist, she impales herself on my cock, and we both moan at how fucking good it feels. Life-affirming and real.

We’re both battered and bruised, and I should stop this, but the bliss that comes over her face has me backing her up against the white tile wall.

Holding her up with one arm, I let my other hand wander her body, caressing her curves and tracing patterns on her soft skin. She shudders, her body becoming increasingly responsive to every movement of my fingers. My thumb brushes against her rosy nipple, making it flush a deeper shade of pink and harden under the attention. The temptation is too much, and I lean forward to take the puckered bud in my mouth.

“God, yes.” Her spine bows and a low moan leaves her lips as I languidly stroke my tongue over her skin.

I’m a man on a mission, wanting to steep her in pleasure so she feels nothing but me and my touch. My mouth. My body.

She maps my face, exploring my lips, my eyebrows, the creases of my eyes, like she’s discovering them for the first time. The energy that sparks between us is palpable, always there and ever-present.

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