Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

It was almost the moment two equals met in the middle, differences stepping aside for the similarities to come together.

Tingles scattered through my body, but they all ended in one place.

My heart.

The fool in me fell a little harder.

“You really mean that?” I said quietly, pulling back and meeting his eyes.

His slight nod answered it. “I’ve seen men buckle where you held strong.” His fingers swept across the side of my face and he tucked some hair behind my ear. “And I finally worked out why you fascinate me so much.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re the most unpredictable little thing, and I can’t get enough of you.” He kissed me once more, slower and firmer than the one we’d just shared, but no less spine-tingling. “Now, can we please get this trip over and done with?”

And just like that, there was the Damien I’d come to feel so strongly for.

“You don’t get a bookstore trip over and done with. It gets done with you.” I grinned as I escaped his clutches and walked backward, almost into a person. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” I said to the lone, elderly gentleman.

He smiled, holding up his hands. “Don’t worry.” Then to Damien as he passed, he said, “She’s right, son. The bookstore tells you when your trip is over.” He held up his left hand and pointed to his ring finger. In the worst stage whisper I’d ever heard, he added, “I’ve been married forty years. Listen to her. She’s always right, even when she’s wrong.”

I cough-laughed into my hand, turning away, but not before I caught Damien’s half-stunned expression.

Ah, yes. The being wrong thing was a new experience for him.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll take that advice into account. Got any advice for when I mistakenly believe I’m right?”

Oh my God.

“You buy her a book, of course. Just avoid the ones with pirates. The role-play is questionable.”

I darted around the end of the aisle, gripped a shelf, and let the giggles burst free. The man was in his sixties, no doubt, and there he was. Talking to Damien Fox about pirate role-play.

I couldn’t control it anymore. When Damien joined me, a sore stomach, an almost-pee, and a few minutes later, he looked much less amused than I felt.

He swallowed hard. “I think this bookstore is done with me now.”

I laughed all over again, this time using the cart to steady me on my feet.

“I’m glad you found that so amusing,” he drawled, stepping up behind me. He gripped the sides of the cart handle and trapped me between him and it, pressing his body against mine. “I may be traumatized.”

“You’re the one who asked him for advice,” I sputtered out. “Oh, grab that Danielle Steele! And the ones on either side of it.”

He did as I said. “Any others?”

I pointed at book after book. He put each one in the cart, the only common thing was the fact he was always touching me. Whether he kept his hand on my back or pulled me with him, he never released me fully. That had to keep up for a good hour before we finally reached the final section with only a few shelves left to go.

“What kinds of books do your sisters read?” I asked, looking up from the back cover of a book by someone I’d never heard of.

The question was a risk. I knew that. But I felt like maybe this time, I’d get an answer.

“Did.” He pulled one off the shelf—a James Patterson.

I paused. “Did?”

“Did read, is the correct question,” he said, flipping the book over.

That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.

A chill ran through me. “Did read,” I repeated softly, the implications of that correction aching through my heart. “Both of them?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “One. Penelope. The youngest.”

“What about your other sister? Perrie?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “As far as I know, she’s still alive.”

Wow.

Ouch.

“I get the feeling this isn’t exactly bookstore conversation,” I murmured, putting a few first-in-series books into the cart.

“Not exactly. Then again, I’m not sure it’s conversation for anywhere.” He handed me two books. “If these were movies, they’d be great.”

My lips twitched up, and we both held onto them for a moment. “Noted. But the books are always better.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gripped the cart and steered it around. “You achieved the impossible. You filled the cart.”

I linked my hand around his arm. “It was only impossible in your mind. It was totally realistic in my world, thank you very much.”

“I underestimated you once again.”

“You’d think you’d have learned by now.”

“I agree.” He laughed lowly. We stopped a few feet from the cashier, and he looked down at me. “Pick a book. Any one. I’ll buy it for you.”

My eyebrows raised. “Is this in case you tell me I’m wrong later on?”

More laughter. “No. It’s a…just because.”

“Have you ever bought a book before?”