Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

More laughter.

“Sadist! Satan is your friend, you shit!”

That did it. Damien stopped and bent over, hands on his knees. His arms were tensed, and the utter bastard didn’t have as much as a roll of fat on his stomach, even bent forward.

The worst part was his laughter.

I’d died at least five times. I’d visited Hell each and every time, and Satan had laughed at—wait, no. That wasn’t Satan. It was his long-lost cousin, Damien freaking Fox.

“Stop laughing at me.” I was aware I was whining. But, I was also wheezing, and I couldn’t stop. My lungs were on fire. My hair was plastered to my skin. My skin was weeping sweat the way teenage girls wept when One Direction broke up.

I hated my life.

I wanted to kill the hot, shirtless asshole who’d made me do this.

I collapsed onto the ground. It was dirty and sandy and dusty, but I was already looking like something out of a junkyard, so who cared? Not me. That much I knew.

“You don’t run, do you?” Damien asked through his laughter.

Gritting my teeth, I answered, “No. I cycle. I do yoga. Pilates. Spin class. I don’t run.”

“That was a rhetorical question.”

“The only appropriate rhetorical question right now is me asking you how painful you’d like your death to be. If I’m going, you’re coming with me.”

“The only place you’re going is back to the car. We’re back where we started.”

“Then I suggest you find water while I attempt to regain control of my breathing.”

He half-grinned and jogged over to the dusty parking area where his now not-shiny car was. Dust had decorated the front and sides the moment we’d arrived, and all I could think was that at least I matched the car.

I didn’t think he’d appreciate the dirt inside it very much but never mind.

Damien returned, carrying two of the towels from my closet and two bottles of water. Without speaking, he handed me one of each.

I drank that water faster than I’d ever drunk anything in my life.

I still felt like hell.

Ugh.

“Better?” Damien eyed me.

“No. I still hate you.”

“Some things never change.” He was fighting a grin if the twitching in his cheeks was anything to go by.

He came over, the towel around his neck, and held a hand out to me. Reluctantly, I took it. He heaved me up with a firm grip and a giant tug, right against his body, where he pressed a hard kiss against my mouth before dragging me after him.

“Let’s go,” he said. “But wipe your legs…Or sit on the towel.”

“No. I plan to smear dirt all over the inside of your car. It’s your punishment.”

He winced, his fingers momentarily tightening around mine. “Please don’t.”

“You owe me so much chocolate right now.”

“I’ll buy you an M&M factory. Will that suffice?”

“The entire factory? I’ll take a weekly subscription.”

Laughing, he unlocked the car and reached for the door. “Duly noted. Shower, then food?”

I peered back at him as I got into the car. “Yes, but you’re cooking.”

Even as he shut the door, his groan was audible.

And oh-so-satisfying.

***

The drive back to my house was taken in silence. I had to exchange several messages with Abby about a mistake in the order that meant my shower was delayed by fifteen minutes while I called the supplier to fix it.

They did, not without moaning, but my entirely bullshit threat to change suppliers soon changed their tune.

Now, I was thankfully, blissfully, in the shower. I planned to stay for at least an hour to make sure I washed off every inch of this damn dust. I was grimy and dirty, and those were two things I wasn’t used to being.

The water beat down on me. It was so refreshing, and I spent a good few minutes alternating between hot and cold water. The extremes were wildly refreshing against my dirty skin, and I felt cleaner than I had all day.

Dust and sweat were not a good combination. Ever.

I ran my hands through my wet hair, squeezing my eyes shut and screwing up my face as the water hit it.

The fact I was half drowning in hot water was the only explanation for why I realized I wasn’t alone until I felt hands grasping my hips.

“What are you doing?” I gasped and stepped out of the water.

Damien spun us both, putting himself under the showerhead so the water trickled over me, just enough to keep me warm. His fingers tightened on my skin as he pulled me back against him, tucking me against his body.

His cock hardened when it pressed against my ass and lower back. The heat that flushed through me had nothing to do with the water. Uncontrollable and feverish, desire swamped me, tingling through me until all I felt was want for him.

“Showering with you,” Damien murmured, his lips in my hair. “I’m killing two birds with one stone.”