Sin thrusts his hand into my hair, fists it, and yanks. “I’m getting tired of your disobedience.”
Need shoots to my core. I hiss, loving his cruel touch but hating it at the same time. “Get your hands off me.”
“Get your ass in the car and we have a deal.” The steel edge to his tone brooks no argument.
Mind whirling, I try to make sense of my options. Either I find my own way to Bayside with no money, cell, or sense of direction. Or I catch a ride with Sin.
The choice is obvious.
“Fine. But after tonight, I never want to see you again.”
“Keep dreaming, babe.” He releases me.
Head aching and heart confused, I ease myself into the soft leather seat.
Sin does the same, his powerful body filling the space with the tantalizing scent of the ocean.
Turning from him, I stare out the window into the darkness.
If I’m going to have any chance of making a life for myself, I need to stay away from him. When we’re together, I forget about the woman I was and the woman I’m trying to be. His presence jeopardizes everything I’ve worked for.
I won’t do that to myself.
But I can’t escape the terrible truth.
No matter what he said, did, or is going to do, a dark part of me wants to be with Sin.
Chapter Twenty
Sin
Temple’s slaying me. When she marched up to the car, shooting sass like a boss, I almost lost my shit. How the fuck can someone so small be that fierce? Her hair was fucking everywhere, her skin was flushed pink, and her top was glued to those luscious tits, begging to be ripped from her body.
I had to touch her.
She’s lucky I didn’t yank her tight as shit jeans down and claim her cunt right the fuck there. No shits to give about the others nearby. I’d give them a show, prove to fucking everyone that Temple’s mine. She’s baggage I don’t need and trouble I don’t want, but fuck if I’m going to deny myself any longer.
I press my foot on the gas, the engine roaring to life. Pissed and horny, I speed from the parking lot, wanting her far from here.
“Who taught you to fight?” I growl, needing answers.
“Why do you care?” she throws back.
Fierce as fucking always. Fisting the wheel so I don’t wrap my hand around her throat, I steer us through a tight corner. “Who taught you?” My damn heart nearly explodes waiting for her answer.
She doesn’t give me one. Stubborn as hell, she stares out the window.
Always making me work for it. “Temple.”
Crossing her arms, she ignores me.
Her tits are pushed up and together, making me hard as fuck. I don’t bother adjusting myself. No point when she always makes me like this. “Answer me. I need to know.”
She glares. “You told me not to read into anything, so that’s what I’m doing.” Looking out the window, she mutters, “Take me home. I don’t want to see you again.”
Since she won’t give me shit, I drop it. But there’s no fucking chance I’m letting this go. I want to know everything about my firecracker: the good, the bad, the fucking violent. Every secret she’s trying to hide, I’ll uncover.
Even if it kills us both.
Chapter Twenty-One
Temple
The remainder of the drive back to Bayside is silent. Sin doesn’t turn on any music, and I don’t have it in me to care. Needing something to do other than stare at his chiseled jawline and full lips, I look out the window. My reflection stares back. There’s only so long I can ignore the confusion in my eyes before I question why it’s there in the first place.
I start reciting the principles of creative writing instead.
By the time I’ve repeated them for a fifth time, Sin pulls up in front of my trailer.
“How do you know where I live?”
With the push of a button, the engine stills. “I know more than you think.”
For some stupid reason, I like the sound of that. “Careful, big guy. You’re entering stalker territory admitting that.”
He faces me. “Not denying it, babe.”
It’s the weight of his words and the certainty in how he delivers them that has me glancing up from beneath my lashes. Even in the darkness, his eyes are clear, and the intention behind them clearer.
“I don’t understand you,” I admit. “One minute you’re pushing me away, and the next you’re wanting to know everything about me. Pick a side already.”
He looks from me to my trailer, his jaw tightening.
As much as I try to fight our connection, I know I can’t. Not anymore. I need to protect myself and put as much space between us as possible. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you around.”
The words sit heavy in the air.
Maybe if I say them enough times, I’ll believe them. Maybe then, my heart won’t call his name like it’s welcoming him home.
The cool air is a welcome reprieve as I get out of the car. Only, before I reach my front doorstep, his body heat is behind me.
I fight back a small smile. “What did I tell you about stalking? It’s not a good look on you, big man.”
“Give me your keys.” He’s so close, his breath teases my nape.
Reaching around me, he holds out his hand. It’s so big. The palm is wide, and his fingers are strong. I don’t believe in heaven, but if I did, those fingers caressing my body, skimming my curves, and gripping my flesh would be it.
I don’t voice my thoughts though. There’s no way in hell I’ll admit to wanting a man like him.
His chest brushes my shoulders on each inhale. Strangely, rather than set off my memories, the proximity has my eyes fluttering closed and my head threatening to fall back against him.
What the hell?
Shocked and confused, I drop my keys in his hand before moving away.
Within seconds, he opens the front door and steps inside.
When lit, the single bulb in the middle of the small room casts more shadows than light. It barely illuminates the third-generation furniture, secondhand appliances, and yellowing walls.
Sin pauses, his perceptive gaze sweeping my place.
I cross my arms, not wanting to feel self-conscious but finding it next to impossible. There’s a reason I don’t bring people back to my place. Several, if I’m honest. And seeing shock in people’s expressions when they take in my decrepit trailer is one of them.
“Is there something you need? Or are you passing stalker mode and entering creeper territory now?”
“Neither.” He pauses. “Where’s all your stuff?”
I shrug, because what’s the point in collecting things when you’re going to move across the county?
Spotting the patched-up wall behind me, he points to it, his muscles tense. “Was that you?”
Not looking at it, I move into the kitchenette. “Maybe. There are so many holes in this place, it’s hard to keep track of who made them.” What I don’t say is, every crack in the wall, every mark left by a fist, boot, bottle, or worse, is ingrained in my DNA.
This trailer was never home. There are ghosts walking the floors and nightmares haunting the rooms. Since I’ve made keeping to myself an art form and don’t earn enough money to afford another place, it’s where I crash. But other than to sleep, I stay far away.