Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

The only person I’d ever trusted and loved in my life who hadn’t left me was Abby.

The idea that I was learning to trust and feel for Damien Fox was the most frightening thing I could think of.

But I was.

The stairs creaked, slicing through my self-pity. The uncontrollable thoughts disappeared, locking back away in the back of my mind. Where they belonged.

I minimized the Internet screen when he walked in, filling the doorway with his presence. His hair, wet and sticking up, almost touched the frame, while his shoulders filled out a good portion of the rest of it. A water droplet trickled down the side of his abs and melted into the waistband of his sweatpants.

I stared there a little too long. It wasn’t my fault—another bit of water slipped down his tanned skin into the low-slung band that hugged exactly the part of him that I wanted to touch.

“Are you working?”

I snapped out of my trance. I wasn’t going to acknowledge the way my heart beat a little faster, either. Nope. Not for a second.

“No,” I said when he rounded and came behind me. “I’m shopping.”

“What are you buying?”

“Shoes.” The word was a mumble. I had pairs upon pairs.

“Why is the browser closed?”

“Habit. My dad used to tell me I had enough shoes, so I used to hide it when I was supposed to be working.”

He leaned in, laughing quietly. “Sweetheart, you do have enough shoes. I just counted ninety-nine pairs in your closet. You may as well make it a round hundred.”

“I don’t have ninety-nine pairs of shoes!” I turned my face to him.

That was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?

“You sure do.” His lips tugged up on one side, and the rightness in his usually stern gaze made a tickle tease down the back of my neck. “Like I said, what’s one more pair?”

“I…Well…I…Um. Never mind.” I knew a futile attempt as denial when I tried it.

He laughed again, gripped the edge of the counter, and opened the Internet browser for me. His body was still a little damp, but it was hot, and his chest pressed against my shoulder blades as he leaned right in and scrolled down the website.

“You’re pretty into shoe shopping,” I said when he hummed.

“I’m pretty into you wearing these shoes while I fuck you.”

Fair enough.

“These.” He stopped and clicked on a lace-up pair of scarlet red heels. They had a pretty price tag but at the same time… They were oh-so-pretty.

“I can’t possibly imagine where I’ll wear them. I was looking for a pair for work.”

Damien tapped a finger to the screen. “Scarlet heels. Scarlet Letter. Problem solved.” He hit ‘Add to Cart’ and slid my laptop over in front of the next stool. “And I have plenty of imagination for where you can wear them.”

“What are you doing?” I blinked at him as he perched on the seat.

“I’m buying you shoes.”

More blinking. “I can buy my own shoes.”

“No, really?” His tone was flat. “I thought you were dirt poor and living in this palace by accident.”

“I can buy my own shoes.”

“You’re mistaking me for someone who cares.”

I reached for the laptop, but he knocked my hand away. His finger flew over the number pad on the right. I stared, slightly horrified, as he entered his card numbers and his address, then hit ‘Process.’

Oh my God.

The confirmation page flashed up.

“There. Problem solved.” He closed my laptop and gave it back to me. Then, without looking at me, got up and walked over to my coffee machine.

He’d just spent a little under fifteen-hundred dollars on a pair of shoes for me and not blinked at it.

“I mean. Sure. If you say so.” Great. Now I felt like I owed him.

Also, why was he buying me shoes?

“Why did you buy the shoes?”

“Because you weren’t going to. Like one more pair would matter.” He laughed and made his coffee. When it was done pouring and he’d turned around to me, I raised my eyebrows.

He promptly ignored my annoyed look.

“What are we doing today?”

“Ummm.” Great question.

“You have no idea, do you?” He smiled behind his mug.

Again, denial would be futile. “Not a damn clue.”

“Let’s go for a run.”

I eeked out a strangled noise that was a little too alike a choir of alleycats at midnight. “Running? It’s hot as Hades out there.”

He shrugged. “I’ll buy you chocolate after.”

“Chocolate? Really? Am I five?”

“No. You’re a very beautiful twenty-five, but if you don’t want the chocolate…”

“I can buy my own.”

“I know. But I’ll probably run shirtless.”

I hit him with a firm stare that completely expressed my displeasure at the idea, but damn if he didn’t talk me into it. I could deal with him shirtless and running.

Maybe.

Twenty-Two

Dahlia

“I hate you!” I shouted, running several feet behind him. “I hope you break your knee!”

His laughter echoed through the desert air.

“I hope you choke on your laughter, you sick bastard!”