His Sweetest Sin

“Okay, and you, sir?”

“The same except I’ll have the roasted red potatoes. I’ll also have a sparkling water with lemon.”

“All right, coming right up.”

Trying to take control of situation spinning wildly out of control, I stiffen my back. “I’m still charging you for this. Ethan would expect it, you’re lucky my rate is a thousand, though, not Ethan’s fifteen hundred.”

“Interesting. I’ll need to make sure I get my money’s worth then. Damn, I love how responsive your body is. Your nipples just popped out f

or attention. So the hooker thing turned you on. I like the sound of it. I’ve never paid for it before, there’s a first time for everything.”

I refuse to look down because I can feel very miserably the truth of his words. “I’m shocked, I would have thought paying for it would solve many of your problems. No hooker wants to get knocked up; at the end of the night they leave when the job is done.”

He nods. “Very true, you pay a prostitute not so she’ll come, it’s so she’ll leave. I never had to, but there’s a first time for everything. If I’m going to be a first for you, then it seems about right that you’ll be a first for me.”

“Am I supposed to be honored or something? I’m not. I’m sure there are plenty of strippers waiting for you in the clubs who would be. You’re free to go find them at any time.”

Chris goes very still with the glass up to his lips. He doesn’t drink though; he sets it down carefully, then raises his eyes to meet mine. It’s as if I stepped outside naked, they’re so cold. I shiver. “Behave, you’re trying my patience.”

The waitress brings us our plates with a smile, asking if we need anything else, and we both decline. I’m not in the mood to eat though, still uneasy from the warning in Chris’s eyes. I hate him for doing this to me, turning me inside out, causing my emotions to run riot with a look or a few words. It feels like he’s playing with me. “I’m really not hungry. I want to go to work. I’m tired of being used as something for you to amuse yourself with.”

His bark of laughter is loud in the large, empty room. “Me use you? If anyone is using anyone, it’s you using me. Don’t worry, I’ll let you use me.”

I’m blinking fast. “Me, use you?”

“Yes, sugar, you’re using me. Usually, it wouldn’t matter to me why a woman wanted to fuck me as long as she did. I guess today is a day for revelations for the both of us. You didn’t know your pussy gets wet at the idea of being owned, and I didn’t know my cock goes limp at the idea of being used by you.”

I am not hurt by his annoyance, but I do know he’s nuts. “You are seriously not in your right mind. I’m not using you. You’re the one talking dirty, who keeps coming after me. I told you the first time I met you that us hooking up doesn’t make sense and it’s not what I want. How the hell is this on me?”

He sighs, and I fight the urge to kick him for it. “You eat me up with your eyes; I can smell your pussy wet for me. Your tits swell and sway, and you thrust them out the minute you catch me looking. Fine, I get it, you don’t even realize you’re doing it, but you are doing it. I’m really supposed to just walk away from you?

“Sugar, since you are so completely clueless, I’ll tell you right now the way you want me—so bad you ache, so bad you can’t think straight, so bad you’re willing to take a chance you never thought you’d take—that kind of want and need doesn’t happen very often, and you aren’t the only one feeling it.

“What pisses me off is you’re willing to take all I want to give you without giving it back. You’re trying to figure out how to get the cheese out of the trap without setting it off. I’m the bad boy who fucks at will, used to any chick riding my cock and giving orgasms until a woman can’t move from it. So you figure if he’s giving it out to anyone, why not you? That, that’s what pisses me off.

His jaw is tight, his eyes are the color of the arctic in winter, freezing me to the empty, hollow of my chest. “You aren’t willing to be bad, to get dirty. You want to stay the good girl, sweet, kind, never causes a fuss. Shit, woodland creatures probably clean your place while you sit on your perfectly plump ass sipping on your coffee, while you read the day away. Books where there’s nothing more than a proper, close-mouthed kiss before it fades to black, where the men are noble, dickless prisses who ask for kisses instead of taking them. I’m going to be the villain in the story who sneaks in and takes you. You’ll give in without ever giving anything up, not your good girl image, not yourself, just your body.”

I hate him. I fucking hate him. I blink, and tears fall. I hate him even more for sighing at the sight of them. Pushing away from the table, my legs are trembling so badly I feel like I’m fighting to stay standing during an earthquake. I want to make my escape from him, from all of this, but not until it’s clear this is all his damn fault. “So it’s my fault for buying into the image you sold of yourself? I’m to blame because I’m willing to take what you keep telling me you’re willing to give? I told you I’m not on your level, the very first day. You’re major league, and I wouldn’t even make it into the little league.

“I’ve fucked three men, okay? Three, and each of them miserable experiences that left me questioning if it was over, if it was safe to just crawl away and hide. I don’t know what you want from me to know if I can even give it to you or not. You say a few weeks, then you joke about kids. You fuck with my head until I don’t know—”

I was so wrapped up in my rant I never saw him move, his hands go down to my hips before bringing me up against him. Oh god, he’s hard, so very hard and pressing into my stomach. Immediately, my knees go weak as I sag against him. His mouth grazes against my ear. “Shh...sugar, take a deep breath. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you even though damn it, Amelia, you started it. Walking in the door spitting fire, cranky as all hell, looking for a fight. Congratulations, you got your wish. I’m never going to be able to deny you what you want—I knew it the minute I laid my eyes on you.

“Amelia,” This time my name is throbbing with all his frustration. “I need you to be honest with me, and the real hard part here, with yourself. I get that it’s hard for you, for reasons only you know. It doesn’t matter, you need to figure out how. The crappy history with men, that I guessed at, but I never would have thought it was so bad. You make more sense than ever now.

“I’ll slow down, let you catch up. Normally, I’m more patient. You have a way of setting me off faster than anyone I’ve ever met. Take a breath, there you go, another one.” A large warm hand cups my cheek, his thumb wiping tears away. I find the courage to meet his eyes, and the awe in them stuns me. There is no teasing, no anger, nothing but pure awe. “Even crying you’re beautiful.”

“Oops, sorry.” The waitress is blushing as she backs out of the room.

God, how embarrassing. It gives me the strength to take a step back. I’m still mad at him, confused, hurt; this is too much for me to handle. Shaking my head, “I keep telling you not to touch me, then you do things like this. What if she talks to the press? If I get suspended, I will never forgive you. I’m out of here before you do any more damage to my reputation.”

His face hardens, his eyes cold. “If you walk away now, I won’t follow you. You’ll get what you say you’re wanting. I’ll find someone else to fuck tonight. I’ll stay deep in her pussy until I forget all about yours. Go to the restroom, clean up, and while you’re in there, grow up. If you come back to the table we continue, if not then have a nice boring life.”

The threat chills me because it isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. I run before I go down on my knees and beg him to forgive me. I’m relieved the restroom is empty. Ugh, the mirror calls Chris a liar, yet I can’t get the awe out of my head. He believed what he was saying; it was his truth. Chris thinks I’m beautiful, me, fat, broken Amelia Bishop. I’m stunned by the thought.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I lean my head against the cool tile. I can’t do this. I just can’t. Chris was right—I was willing to use him, willing to give in but not give back, to allow him to take me without ever admitting I wasn’t just an active participant, I wanted him. Hearing it out loud, his anger is completely understandable. It’s a shitty way to act, to think. It’s no wonder he’s lost patience with me; he’s been a hell of a lot more patient than I deserve. Only, it doesn’t change the fact I am boring. No matter how hard I try I’m not for him. By the time he rolls off me he’ll have forgotten me, and I’m not strong enough to deal with that.

Once out of the stall, I don’t bother to clean up my makeup. Instead, I wash my face clean. This is over; I’m done.