Page 1 of Secret Sin

Tequila could really makea girl’s head spin. Or maybe that was just the result of learning my uncle had killed his wife. The news had certainly thrown me for a loop.

In the months since my aunt’s death, life had felt frozen in some kind of supernatural time warp. My cousin, who also happened to be my best friend in the world, had lost her voice and wouldn’t leave her house. Our entire family tree was shrouded in grief. Life slowed to a standstill until everything launched back into motion one day, skipping straight past normal and into hyper speed. It was so disorienting that my head spun.

I looked at my warped reflection in the brushed metal doors of the elevator and bit back a giggle.

Yeah, tequila was definitely playing its part.

Noemi and I had downed shots of Patrón while she’d told me the truth about her mother’s death. She’d kept it secret for months, and it felt incredible to remove that barrier between us. To finally be moving forward.

“Day drinking?” Bishop’s voice greeted me as soon as the elevator doors opened.

I smirked at a twin set of dimples that were too cute to be legal.

“I’m an adult,” I quipped back.

“Last time I checked, twenty was still a year shy of the legal drinking age in New York.”

“Like that ever stoppedyou.” I hadn’t known Bishop long, but we’d spent hours together at Noemi’s wedding days before, and I knew the carefree playboy wasn’t the sort to bother with rules. He and I had toyed with an electric chemistry that sizzled between us, dancing precariously on the edge of a dangerous cliff.

With excitement and alcohol thrumming in my veins, I felt propelled right back to that precipice at the sight of the beautiful Irishman. If his loosely cut mahogany curls and glinting brown eyes didn’t make a girl weak in the knees, his square-cut jawline and epic dimples were bound to strike a killing blow. And that was just his face. Bishop’s perfectly chiseled body would have made Michelangelo weep. Hell, I may have shed a tear or two thinking about him.

Bishop, whose real name I’d learned was actually Ewan Bohanan, carried himself with a kind of easygoing confidence so potent it had its own gravitational pull. He was playful, intensely masculine, and devastatingly gorgeous. He was also here to take me home from my cousin’s place, and I was entirely too tipsy to behave.

He grinned and leaned closer. “Yeah, but I do all sorts of things you shouldn’t.”

I inched forward, looking up at him through my lashes. “Shame on you, Mr. Bohanan,” I purred. “Don’t you know this is the twenty-first century? Women can do anything men can do.”

“Not sure your father would agree.”

“Never stopped me before.” Lies. Dad had gotten in the way plenty over the years, but I was taking control now. I’d already started secretly searching for my own apartment. I had a whole list of Things Independent Women Do, and Bishop Bohanan suddenly looked like a perfect chance to tick off another item from the list.

Have a crazy-hot one-night stand.

This situation was ideal. Dad’s driver had dropped me off at Noemi’s before lunch, and I wouldn’t be expected home until dinner. Bishop was hot, unattached, and familiar enough that he wasn’t a total stranger. I couldn’t have asked for a better setup.

The direction of my thoughts must have shown on my face because his smile evaporated and was replaced with something dark and lusty. “I think it’s time to get you home before things get carried away.” His voice dropped to a gravelly rumble that stoked a heat deep in my belly. My breathing hitched, drawing his eyes to my lips. With a tortured groan, he spun me toward the building entrance. “Start walking, and don’t look at me like that.” Temptation gnawed at his self-control. Good. I liked the idea of Bishop mindless with need, unable to think clearly.

I reluctantly obliged, one of his hands pressing me forward like a gun at my back. A smirk teased at my lips as he led me to a bright-yellow Mustang that suited his vibrant personality perfectly.

“Your car is gorgeous.”

“Thanks. You’re not going to throw up in it, are you?”

I shot a glare at him over my shoulder. “If you don’t know the difference between tipsy and trashed, maybe I misjudged you.” I turned and leaned against his car, facing him with a challenging stare.

“I’m exactly who you think I am.” His drastic shift from playful ease to lethal intensity was impressive.

Listening to Noemi tell her story over the past hour had lit a fire inside me. While our fathers were very different—mine had never threatened my life like hers had—I still felt compelled to follow my father’s orders. An arranged marriage for me was in the realm of possibilities, and two weeks was all the warning Noemi had been given.

That could have been me.

I didn’t like the idea of being tied to a man I hardly knew, but if I had no choice, I would be damned if I didn’t at least experience life first. So far, my experience with men was shamefully limited. No boy at school would go anywhere near me—Dad made sure of that. And when Aunt Nora died and Noemi withdrew, going out and having fun just didn’t seem right. I’d been stuck in a sort of lockdown almost as much as Noemi. It was time to shake off the stupor and start living.

My breath caught in my throat as my hand extended to clasp the front of his shirt with a gentle tug. “Then prove it. Take me to your place.”

Bishop’s nostrils flared while the rest of his body hardened to chiseled granite.

Not wanting him to see me as an inexperienced little girl, I pulled him closer until his body came into full contact with mine. “You’re overthinking this, stud. We’ve been dancing around one another since we met. Time to let this run its course.” I could hardly believe the confident words falling from my lips. I sounded like one badass, self-assured modern woman, and the thrill was just as intoxicating as the tequila still warming my veins.

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