Page 125 of Blindside Sinner

There’s also the fact that she’s soaking wet and clad in nothing but a towel. I want to kiss her. I want to hug her. I want to bust the fucking door down, yank her towel away, and bury my dick inside her.

But things feel unsteady. Maybe it’s just in my head, maybe not, but I’m treading cautiously anyway.

It’s strange: my whole life, I’ve lived by simple rules.

If Beck is thirsty, Beck drinks.

If Beck is tired, Beck sleeps.

And if Beck is horny, Beck fucks.

I’ve just never been in a situation where I’ve been constantlyat least semi-hard for a woman, where her smile alone is enough to make me want to bend her over the table.

Worst of all, I’ve never been in a situation where I have to deny myself those things.

Sloan Reeves is making me do some strange shit.

It’s a couple hours before she’s ready to go. But when Sloan comes down, she proves it was well worth the wait.

Her hair is pulled back, leaving acres of throat visible—kissable, suckable acres. I’m like a kid in a candy store, but I’m holding back because I want her to come to me, to want me the way I want her.

I’m not giving in first.

But it’s going to be close. She did a bit of online shopping, so she has a sweater that reveals one bare shoulder and she’s paired it with these tight, black pants that look painted on. She looks good. Good enough to eat, which I plan to do later on.

On the ride to McIntire’s, she’s fairly quiet. Fine by me, because I’m not much of one for talking at the moment. Part of it is the gnawing unease with the threat of the outside world. Every car on the road holds a potential attacker. Every pedestrian could be a threat.

The other part is Sloan herself. This woman clouds all conscious thought in my brain.

When we arrive, she gets out herself without waiting for me to come open the door. She meets me at the corner of the car with a curious expression on her face.

Winding her fingers between mine, she pulls me close. “I feel like we’re having an off day. But thank you for doing this. I needed a breath of fresh air. I feel safe when I’m with you.”

Then she lets go of my hand, turns, and goes inside.

The place isn’t loud, but there are a few other people at tables and a line of folks at the bar. Cassie and Monroe have already arrived and are at a booth in the corner. I pick a table where I can see the girls.

Then I sit and wait. Dix, LaDuke, and Colin come sauntering in a moment later. Dixon is rubbing his hands together with a greedy gleam in his eyes. “Papa’sthirstytonight!” he announces. I immediately regret putting my credit card down. That boy can drink when he puts his mind to it.

Adrian sits beside Dix and Colin moves like he’s going to slide onto my side, but I stand and motion for him to slide in. “No. You first. I need to be at the end.”

In case the guy who tore up the guesthouse decides to grow a pair and make his presence known, I need to be able to get to her quick. Pushing Col out of the way will eat potential seconds I might not be able to spare.

He gives me a weird look, but then he shrugs and does as he’s told. “So what’re we drinking, boys?” he asks as he flips through the menu. “Feels like a bourbon kind of night.”

“Last time you ordered bourbon, you tried singing Celine Dion at karaoke,” LaDuke reminds him acidly. “I’m thinking vodka.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Kostya too much,” Colin complains. “You’re half-Russian at this point.”

“Luckily, I have you to make me redneck instead,” Adrian retorts.

Dixon laughs and throws in a joke of his own, then the three of them are off and running, ragging each other over all kinds of bullshit. Par for the course, but I’m not paying attention.

No, I’ve got one eye on the girls’ table and the other on the door. Everyone who enters gets a full up-down of scrutiny. I clock all suspicious figures and note their movement around the bar.

The only way to protect her is vigilance. I won’t fail a second time.

“Holy shit, Beck,” Dix wheezes. “She isn’t going anywhere. You need to relax, bro.”

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