Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

“You think you disprove my point by saying that.”

“I think you’re an overgrown douchebag who left his adulting at his high school graduation.”

“I think you’d still fuck me if you had the chance.”

“I think you’re the most insufferably arrogant human being I’ve ever had a conversation with.” I smacked his arm away from the counter, but my pathetic attempt didn’t even buckle his elbow. “Just when I think you might be halfway decent, you open your mouth and prove me wrong yet again.”

He leaned in, cupping my jaw. “There are other things I could do with my mouth that would prove you right.”

“I doubt it. I’m sure they’d all prove you to be a dick.”

“If you want a dick, I can oblige there, too.”

“Not yours,” I snapped.

“Dahlia.” His fingers tightened, splaying from my chin to my neck, holding my face perfectly in position. His lips were inches from mine when he spoke again. “Sweetheart, if you had any idea what I could do with my mouth, you’d be on your back with my face between your legs.”

A shiver rushed down my spine.

“I did gymnastics for fifteen years. Put your face between my legs and I’ll crush your skull.”

He laughed low. “You were a gymnast? That doesn’t make me less attracted to you. That tells me you’re flexible.”

“You’re right, I am. I can suck your dick and kick you in the head at the same time.”

“That defies physics.”

“So does the fact you won’t shut the fuck up.”

More laughter. More spine-tingling laughter combined with a heart pounding tightening of his fingers as they slid along my skin.

He gripped his fingers into my hair, wrapping his strong hand around the base of my skull and pulling me closer to him. A breath of air separated our lips, and I knew that my strong exhale danced across his lips the way every one of his breaths did to mine. “There are plenty of things I can do that are better than shutting up. I could talk, read you a story, quote Shakespeare…”

His eyes met mine.

“Kiss the fuck out of you.”

The deep breath I’d been missing came hard.

“Don’t you—”

“Dare?” he breathed in response. “Why? You gonna stop me, sweetheart? If I hoisted you onto that counter and kissed you, you’d push me away? Try again—tell me another fucking fairytale, because you’d melt.”

“Once upon a time, the princess knight met an asshole masquerading as a prince. She kicked his ass,” I snapped, once again pushing his arm out of the way.

This time, it worked.

His arm buckled, freeing enough space for me to scoot aside.

I failed in my escape.

Damien gripped my wrist.

Tugged.

Yanked.

Pushed.

Shoved.

My ass pressed against the counter behind me.

His chest slammed to mine.

My heart pounded.

His fingers slipped between mine.

My hands pressed to the cold stone.

His knee pushed through my thighs.

My stomach flipped.

His lips touched mine.

Firmly.

Fearlessly.

Ferociously.

I breathed him in.

Gasped.

Faltered.

Sighed.

I melted into him. Into the way his fingers wove through my hair. Into the way his body fit against mine. Into the way I slipped my hands up his firm body and gripped onto his collar like nothing else mattered but that.

Because, maybe, nothing else did.

Maybe in that moment, all that mattered was the way Damien Fox’s lips felt as they explored my own.

As he gripped me so tightly I was sure I’d have bruises from his fingertips.

As I slid fully onto the counter with the help of his deft fingers, my dress inching up the more my legs opened for him to slip between my thighs.

As I took his kiss, as smooth as silk.

His hands explored my thighs as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into me, forgoing common sense for hormones, intuition for impulse. He felt so right as our bodies connected; his hot skin against mine as his tongue battled mine and our limbs entangled on top of the counter I was still perched upon.

It was all so right.

So free.

So exhilarating.

So reckless.

So wildly wrong.

Because this was wrong. I knew it. Every brush of his fingers and every pinch of his fingers was wrong, yet I couldn’t stop. He was Heaven and Hell and all the sins in between.

This kiss wasn’t just a sin, and neither was he.

It was the sin.

He was the ultimate sin.

And against everything I believed, I was indulging. Carelessly indulging despite all the reasons I needed to stop.

Damien cupped the back of my head, sliding his tongue over my tender lower lip. The scratchy stubble on his jaw rubbed against my chin as he kissed me slower, moving his lips almost lazily over mine.

Savoring it, almost. Tasting me softly. Teasing me slowly.

If a kiss could be used as a weapon in battle, his fighting ability would be unparalleled.

And the fact that he’d been right about me melting under his kiss was really, really fucking annoying, I realized as he pulled his lips from mine.