I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Knowing how Kylie felt, meant I couldn’t to keep my hands to myself. I lightly touched the sleeve of my jacket, wishing to god it was her bare skin.
“I’d like to see you again, but you left before I could get your number.” At my admission, Kylie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. I hated having to ask for her number, but her surprise amused me. “What? Why wouldn’t I want to call you? I mean, I did give you a gift and all. After what we did last week, we’re practically dating.”
What the actual fuck? Why did I say that?
Kylie sputtered, then smothered a laugh. “We are definitely not dating.”
“Once you give me your phone number, and I call you, we’ll get together again. Then we’ll be dating.” I shot her a confident grin.
Date? I don’t date. What the hell are you doing, St. Clair, you dumbshit? Fuck the date. Ask her to come home with you right now.
It was too late. I already started down an unknown path and there was no way I was pulling a U-turn and ruining my chances. More than anything, more than the Stanley Cup, I wanted Kylie naked and chained to my bed, properly this time, and was damn determined to get it, no matter the cost. If it meant pretending we were going to date, promising fucking flowers and dinner and all that romantic shit, then that’s exactly what I’d do. Didn’t matter, as long I got to be with her again. For whatever reason, my gut told me if I pressed for sex, even if she accepted, it would be the last time. After that, I’d never see her again. And god, did I want to see her again.
“Why on earth would I give you my number?”
I shifted until I pressed against Kylie from shoulder to hip. Still touching my jacket, I slid my hand up and down, the lapel between my thumb and fingers, and gave a gentle tug.
“You’re already wearing my clothes. I’ve seen you naked. You’ve seen me naked. We both enjoyed it. Why not do it again?”
I bent down until our eyes were level, my mouth so close to those tempting lips I struggled not to close the distance, pin her hands behind her back, and devour every last one of her moans. I maintained eye contact, and caught the exact second the wary look in Kylie’s eyes changed to something much more promising.
“Give me your phone,” she instructed, her eyelids at half-mast and her sexy rasp even deeper than before.
The dichotomy between vixen and ingénue, naive girl and temptress, feisty and nervous, fascinated me. Yes, I wanted to have sex with her again, but more than that, I wanted to know what made Kylie tick. A first for me, I admit.
I pulled the brand-new device from my pocket and prayed it wouldn’t spontaneously combust in my hand. Without pulling away from her eyes, I offered it to her. Our icy fingers grazed and this time I was the one to shiver and fuck, I one hundred percent knew it wasn’t from the temperature. It was cold outside, but there wasn’t a single part of my body that wasn’t on fire—burning and smoldering as white-hot flames licked their way up and down my spine. My insides scorched to ash and my nerves pulsed with electrical charges, ready to detonate. The sensation was eerily similar to the pressure of the uncontrollable, heated rage that would push outward when my temper flared, only it was… different. Before I could overthink it, Kylie handed back the phone, thankfully unexploded.
“What did you put your number under?” I asked as I scrolled down the contact list. Messing with the device was risky. My tendency to ruin anything electronic meant there was a chance I could lose her number simply by screwing around with the damn thing. But curiosity won out. I wanted to know Kylie’s last name and more than that, needed to know how to find her. With her teasing behavior, the way she easily tossed every one of my smartass remarks right back at me without missing a beat, the way she ducked out on me at the hotel, I figured whatever Kylie put her number under would be totally unexpected.
She didn’t disappoint.
Kylie grinned and I just about incinerated from the flirtatious spark in her chestnut eyes. She was a study in contrasts—brave one moment, shy the next, then a screeching, clawing banshee as she came on my cock. I loved not knowing what to expect. Kylie took a confident step toward me and became the pursuer instead of the pursued. She crowded my space until my lower back pressed against the rail. My cock jerked again and I honestly feared I would bust a nut right then and there.
Oh god.
Bold as fuck, Kylie reached out and drew her index finger down the front of my dress shirt, stopping right above my belt buckle. I hissed and held my breath. No way could she miss the obscene tent formed as my cock pounded against my fly, all but begging to be released from its cloth prison. My eyes drifted shut and I concentrated on not shooting my load.
“I put it under N.”
“N? Why? What for?” I felt giddy. Almost, drunk.
Kylie moved closer until we touched. I groaned, only half paying attention to the conversation. How could I with her spectacular body pressed against me, the soft curves of her breasts flattened against my pecs? I couldn’t hold back the sounds of pleasure that rumbled out of me. Eyes still squeezed shut, I felt her hot breath gust across my ear and damn if I didn’t shiver again. I vibrated with sexual tension while blistering heat shot straight to my groin. It gathered and grew in my tight, aching balls.
“For Not A St. Clair Fan, of course.”
So damn sexy—Wait? What?
By the time my eyes flew open, Kylie was gone.
A slow grin spread across my face. The sexy little vixen was going to pay for that, but fuck it was so goddamn hot. I pressed the heel of my hand on my raging hard on and grimaced. I would have to do something about it, and soon.
I scrubbed my hands down my face. Saint ciboire. Kylie was sexier than I could ever imagine. Even more than both my memories and my fantasies, and I spent a lot of time fantasizing about her, in many, many dirty, nasty, filthy, and depraved ways.
What could I say? I was The Sinner after all.
Kylie threw down the gauntlet, one my darker side couldn’t wait to scoop up. I hoped she had something to hold onto, because this ride was about to get real bumpy.
7