I scrunch my nose in confusion, not quite grasping what’s going on right now. In all the time I’ve known him—in all the months and months of our relationship—we’d never once danced together.
“You’re serious?” I ask, pushing away from the railing. With my heels, I’m almost at eye level with him.
He snakes an arm around my back, yanking me into him so forcefully some of my drink splashes out. His lips go to my ear, a feat that wouldn’t have been possible if I’d left my hair all loose and wild. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, his breath causing the hair on my arms to rise as his words rumble into me. “I want to dance with you. Want you to rub up against me, tease me a little. And once we’re done here, I’m taking you back to the hotel. And let me just go ahead and warn you now—you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”
My eyes almost roll into the back of my head, but I manage to hold on to a tiny piece of my common sense. Putting my hand on his chest, I hold him at bay. “I kind of thought last time was a one-time only thing.”
“Why? Because I haven’t called you, and I’ve pointedly ignored you when we’re around the others?”
“Something like that,” I mutter.
“Doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about you,” he says, his sobering expression conveying exactly how truthful his statement is. “But… it’s complicated.”
“Yes,” I agree softly, moving in closer to him. “We’re definitely complicated.”
“Come on,” he says. After swallowing the rest of the vodka in his glass, he sets it on a table. “Let’s go dance.”
I don’t bother draining my glass. Instead, I take one last sip before putting it next to his empty one. I’ve never been a big drinker. A fuzzy brain isn’t my idea of a good time.
Saint holds my hand as we make our way down the stairs. He weaves through the crowded dance floor, not stopping until we’re right in the middle. A slow techno song pulses a rhythmic beat, and the laser lights make me a little dizzy. I don’t even know how to dance and I’m not sure what to do, but then Saint’s hands settle on my hips. He leads, his hips rotating back and forth, his grasp urging me to follow his motions. When I curve my hands to his shoulders, we rock and sway against each other.
Sliding a hand from my hip to my lower back, Saint pulls me in, nestling our lower halves together. As we grind against each other to the seductive beat, I can feel his length harden against me. A rush of power at knowing I’m the cause of his reaction sweeps over me.
Palm still on my lower back, he drags his other hand up to cup the nape of my neck. As he draws me in until our lips are only inches apart, I anticipate the kiss I think he’s going to give me. Instead, he says, “I do forgive you, Sin.”
In pure relief, my neck muscles untense and I close my eyes to savor those important words. His lips press against my cheek and we just hold each other, barely swaying to the music. We stay that way for a while, the silence a comfortable one because—right this moment—we’re okay.
After the song ends, I sigh. Since the stolen moment is over, I say, “Shall we test the guards now?”
Saint chuckles. “The sooner we get that done, the sooner we can get out of here.”
Yes, I like that plan. Finish here, go to the hotel, and…
I shake my head, trying to get it back in the game where it belongs. Smirking, I say, “Here goes nothing.”
A man and a woman dance beside and slightly behind us. He’s into her, raking his eyes all over her body in a lecherous way. She appears bored as she scans the room, seemingly not interested in him at all.
That’s my mark.
Taking a few steps back, I raise my arms above my head and swivel my hips in a way I hope looks like a sexy dance instead of an epileptic fit.
My backside grazes against the man’s hip. I spin around, shoot him an affronted glare, and push him hard with both hands. When he stumbles, I scream loud enough to be heard over the music. “How dare you grab my arse!”
Saint takes his cue, charging directly at the guy. “What the fuck, dude?”
The woman melts immediately into the crowd, but before the guy can defend himself against my claim or Saint’s threatening presence, two guards swoop in to diffuse the situation. I discreetly glance at the guard positioned near the hallway, but he hasn’t budged, which says a lot since he’s closer to us. He let the guards stationed farther away handle it.
That bit of info tells me it’s going to take something much bigger to lure him away from the hallway near the owner’s office.
No worries, though.
I’m positive we can come up with something that will.
CHAPTER 13
Saint
While I normally like to be in control in bed, I don’t mind Sin doing her worst to me. Once in a blue moon, anyway.
Right now, that involves her riding me hard, that glorious halo of hair bouncing all around as fabulously as her tits.
Christ… she’s perfection.
The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known or will ever know. That extends inward as well as out. Despite the fact we make our livings as thieves, she has such a gentle and kind soul. She doesn’t like hurting anyone who might have the misfortune of crossing our paths through our line of work.
As happens more often than not, we share what seems like a spectacularly singular orgasm amplified by a million. So forceful it sometimes scares the hell out of me because it doesn’t have anything to do with how well we move our hips or where we touch but relies purely on who we are to each other.
Simply put… it goes beyond the physical. It’s a phenomenon I’ve never experienced with anyone except her.
Sin is the one and only person for me.
As if she’s reading my mind, she collapses onto my chest, wraps her arms tightly around me, and fiercely whispers in my ear, “You better not ever leave me.”
“Why would I do that?” I ask jokingly, my balls still tingling from the aftereffects of what we’d shared.
“I don’t know.” Her tone is low, almost fearful. “Just promise you won’t.”
“There’s no need for promises,” I soothe her.
Lifting her head, she focuses on me, those witchy hazel eyes burning right through me by sheer virtue of the intensity of her expression.
“I love you, Sin. That right there tells you all you need to know.”
“Together forever?” she guesses with a slight smile.
“No getting rid of me,” I assure her.
Sin’s face softens, her expression contemplative. She slides off me, rolling on her side to face me. I mimic her, propping my head in my hand with my elbow planted in the mattress.
“What’s up?” I ask, recognizing that look. It means she has deep thoughts brewing. To me, it’s doesn’t seem unusual for couples who shared the deepest of intimacies to talk about serious stuff after.
Her gaze drops to the small expanse of sheet between us, and she traces an elegant finger along the soft material. “Do you ever dream of a normal life?”
“Normal? Like going straight, you mean?” I ask. Normal is subjective, after all.
Her eyes rise to meet mine. “Like having a nine-to-five job, a house, and a dog.”