Текст книги "Sweet the Sin "

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Interlude

About the Author

The Editor’s Corner

Excerpt from Darker the Release

Chapter 1

Kelly Watson heard her phone buzz with a new text as she was pulling into the parking lot of one of the city parks.

It was almost eleven on Saturday morning, and Jesse’s flight back from Paris would have just landed, if it stayed on the schedule he’d mentioned. Kelly had met Jesse in a bar last weekend, and they’d gone back to his place afterward. The sex had been pretty good—standard-issue, nothing special—and she’d been hoping that the business trip he was leaving for the following morning meant she wouldn’t hear from him again.

She hadn’t given him her number, but she’d told him she painted pet portraits—which was obviously a mistake. There weren’t that many pet portrait artists in the DC area, so she wouldn’t have been hard to look up.

Maybe the text was from someone else. Maybe the client she was meeting at this park was running late.

When she shifted her car into park, she reached for her phone and glanced at the screen.

Hey, I’m back in town. Want to get together again? Got any time this weekend?

Jesse.

Damn it. He must have texted her as soon as his plane had touched down.

A familiar tension roiled in her gut as she stared at the words. She hated when guys did this.

She never pretended that her one-night stands were anything but casual, so there was no reason for anyone to try to turn them into something else. She didn’t do relationships, and doggy style on the bed while he tried to talk dirty certainly wasn’t going to change her mind.

She sat for a minute, wondering if she should just ignore him. But he hadn’t been mean or inappropriate with her, and she didn’t like to be rude, so she tapped out a reply. Thanks. I had a good time too, but it was just the one time. Take care of yourself.

She reread it, making sure there were no undercurrents of encouragement in the brief lines. She hit send and dropped the phone into the front pocket of her bag.

Getting out of the car, she glanced down at herself to make sure she looked presentable. She had on one of her work outfits, consisting of a long, flowing, casual skirt, a tank top, and a thin tunic sweater. She’d set up her business when she was twenty-one, so she’d been doing this for seven years. In that time, she’d learned that clients expected a certain look from pet artists, and the slightly bohemian style—as long as it wasn’t too over-the-top—satisfied their expectations nicely.

Pet portraits weren’t exactly a booming business, so she did anything she could to give herself an advantage. She’d done all right for herself, considering. The first few years had been slow, but she’d used her adoptive parents’ wealthy contacts in the area and had slowly built up a business. She’d made a living out of it for the last four years, but if her adoptive parents hadn’t left her a sizable inheritance, she never would have been able to afford her lifestyle.

She swung her leather satchel over her shoulder and headed toward the entrance of the park. She was supposed to meet her client at eleven, so she was exactly on time.

There was no sign of a man and a German shepherd hanging around the entrance, which was where she assumed they would meet up, so she waited for a few minutes, watching all the approaching cars.

It was the weekend and a warm, sunny day in April, so the park was crowded. She’d never been to this park before, since she lived on the opposite end of town. There was a wide stretch of grassy lawns and several different trails that led into a wooded area.

Her breath hitched at the sight of the woods. If this client wanted her to walk those trails with him, she would have to tell him no. She’d make up something about how she needed open areas like the lawns to get a good picture of the dog.

She hadn’t gone beyond the edges of any woods since her father had been murdered eighteen years ago.

When she felt a flash of overwhelming emotion at the memory, she pushed the thought away with a practiced mental strategy, breathing out, clearing her mind, and looking at the family of four approaching with their golden retriever.

The dog had a good build, so she studied it, mentally sketching out a portrait of it in her mind.

After a few minutes, the threat of the memory had cleared.

At fifteen after eleven, she started to wonder if her client was waiting elsewhere in the park, since there was still no sign of him at the entrance. She walked down the main path and searched the wide lawns for a man with a German shepherd.

She had to walk over the slight hill toward the trees before she saw him, throwing a Frisbee to the dog.

She sighed, thinking it would have been polite had the man waited near the entrance for her like a normal person, but the wealthy types she catered to often weren’t thinking about what was convenient for her. She swallowed her faint annoyance and walked over to him.

The dog was beautiful. Well-bred and healthy, with thick fur, good lines, and a powerful run. He would make a beautiful portrait, even if his owner was rather inconsiderate.

Kelly pulled out her camera and snapped a few pictures as she approached. She usually painted from photographs, since that was easier for everyone—aside from the occasional client who mistakenly thought the portrait was “purer” when painted from real life. She always got to know the animals before she painted them so she could invest the paintings with personality, as well as get the visuals right.

The man saw her approaching and taking pictures of the dog, so he stopped throwing the Frisbee and waited until she reached him.

“Good morning,” she said with her professional smile. “He’s beautiful. His name is Chester?”

The man frowned. She guessed him to be in his forties. He was very attractive, with a strong, lean body, dark hair, and the stance of a man who was used to being in authority. He didn’t look at all the way he’d sounded on the phone.

“No,” he said, his voice deep and cultured. “It’s not.”

Kelly gave a little start as she realized she might have made a mistake. “He’s not Chester? You’re not Mr. Verner?”

“I’m not.” He tossed the Frisbee again, causing the dog to run exuberantly over to catch it.

“Oh. Sorry.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m supposed to meet someone with a German shepherd, and you’re the only one here who matches that description.”

He smiled then, evidently assured she wasn’t some crazed stranger who was stalking his dog with a camera. “If it’s some sort of online dating hookup, you should get a better description of him, rather than just going for the dog.”

There was amusement in his tone and a kind of teasing flirtation in his expression, making him even more attractive than before. She liked the little lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and she liked the warm chocolate brown of his eyes.

His body was nothing to sneer at either—his muscle development graceful and strong, rather than bulky.

As she’d been studying him, he’d been doing the same with her, his gaze crawling over her from her painted toenails in her sandals to her dark gold hair in a low ponytail. It was pretty obvious that he liked the looks of her, since his gaze heated up as he drawled, “He sure won’t be disappointed in you, though.”

“It’s not an online dating thing,” she said, feeling a familiar prickle of excitement and interest running down her spine. Who was this guy, anyway? “It’s a client I’m meeting.”

“I see.” He gave her a leisurely smile, his eyes lingering at the slight cleavage exposed at the neckline of her tank top. “Well, he still won’t be disappointed.” When his dog ran up to him, offering the Frisbee excitedly, the man grabbed it and tossed it again.

“You move pretty fast, don’t you?” She was used to men coming on to her, but usually in bars or clubs, where they were clearly both there for that purpose. It wasn’t all that common for a man to come on strong like this in normal daily interaction.

It was strangely exciting, though. Her heart was starting to beat faster as she waited for his response.

He laughed softly, his eyes still lingering on her face and body in a way that felt deeply entitled. “You’re the one who approached me with a ridiculous pretense of looking for a client.”

“Hey! That wasn’t a pretense. It was an honest mistake.” She pulled out her business card and offered it to him. “See.”

The dog returned and, seeing that his owner was busy reading a business card, he flopped the Frisbee down at Kelly’s feet. She picked it up and gave it a good throw, watching the dog bound after it.

“Pet portraits?” the man asked skeptically, with that same smug laughter in his eyes.

“What’s your point?”

“Nothing. You’re just that type, aren’t you?”

“What type?”

“Pet portrait artist. At one with the universe. Lover of flowers and trees and all furry creatures. Filling the world with pretty objects and warm fuzzies. I bet they call you Blossom, don’t they?” His tone was bone dry, as if far above such sentiment.

He probably was. She could tell even from their brief interaction that he was too intelligent, too experienced, too competent to have patience with anything trite or saccharine.

She liked that about him. Despite her intentionally bohemian appearance just now, she was as far as possible from those feelings herself.

“You don’t know me at all,” she said, pleased at the cool aloofness of her tone.

It just made him smile. When his dog lay down with the Frisbee, panting blissfully, the man started walking toward him, evidently expecting Kelly to fall in step with him. “I know a little about you. I know you paint pet portraits. I know you’re wearing vegan sandals and are reluctant to cut your hair. And I know you have on your bracelet various charms of dogs, cats, birds, and flowers.” He arched his eyebrows. “I think I’ve got a pretty clear sense of you.”

The bracelet was stupid, but her clients always liked it, and her hair was indeed very long, hanging down to the small of her back. But this arrogant man couldn’t be more wrong.

He might be eerily observant, but he knew nothing.

“Is that right?” she replied, giving him arched eyebrows in response. “You might be surprised about me. But there’s no way I’d be surprised about you. I’d know your type in my sleep.”

“Blossom, you could know my type in your sleep, if you asked nicely.”

She felt another tingle of excitement at the sexiness of his tone but ignored it. “You wear a suit to work every day, don’t you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. It’s just your type. You’re one of those guys who wears a business suit like armor—going through the world as if the nameplate on your office entitles you to whatever you want. As if your bank account makes you superior.”

The words weren’t particularly gentle, but he looked interested rather than offended. “What makes you think I have anything impressive in my bank account?”

“Please. I know roughly how much that watch you’re wearing costs.”

Because of the Watsons, her adoptive parents, Kelly was in good shape financially, but she didn’t own anything except her car that cost as much as the watch he was wearing.

“And I bet you’re wondering why would I spend money on something so superficial when I could be donating it to all the homeless animals in the world?” Again, he was teasing in that intimate way, as if he really did know her.

“I’m not like that,” she told him, speaking only the truth.

“Sure you aren’t.” He flashed her a grin. “What happened to your client, anyway?”

Kelly had actually forgotten about her client, so absorbed in the conversation had she been. She gave a little jerk and turned back to scan the park, focusing on the entrance, but there was no sign of another man with a German shepherd. “I think I’ve been stood up. It happens sometimes.”

Just then, her phone chirped with another text, so she reached in to pull it out of her bag. “Maybe that’s him.”

When she focused on the screen, she realized it wasn’t her client. Are you sure? I’d make it worth your while. Promise.

She sighed. Jesse. Why the hell wouldn’t he just give up?

“Not your client,” the man beside her said.

She glanced up. “How do you know?”

“I’m pretty good at reading expressions. Who is it? Your boyfriend being annoying?”

He was actually quite close. Impressive, given that they were strangers. “No. Just a guy who won’t take no for an answer.”

“He has my sympathy.”

She sucked in a breath. “Why should he have your sympathy?”

He had that smug, heated amusement in his eyes again. “To get a taste of a hot little thing like you—and then get the door slammed in his face? Can’t help but feel sorry for him.”

“I didn’t slam the door in his face. I was nothing but honest with him. He’s the idiot who ignored what I told him and keeps bumbling on toward something he already knows he can’t have.”

The man chuckled and reached out to run his fingers gently down a long strand of her hair. “It doesn’t matter what you tell him, blossom. You’ve got this gorgeous, untouched sweetness about you. It’s like a promise and a challenge.”

Her whole body went hot at the texture of his words, at the tension and power she could feel in his hand, his shoulders, his gaze.

She knew what he was referring to. She’d been born with clear creamy skin, pink cheeks, big blue eyes, and a heart-shaped face that gave the impression of innocence. There was no way she could dress that would change her natural look, even though she’d desperately tried when she was younger.

“Don’t assume the way I look is the way I really am,” she said, her pulse starting to throb in her wrists and her throat. She knew how to recognize the look in this guy’s eyes.

He wanted her.

And despite his smug superiority—or maybe because of it—she wanted him too.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so deeply attracted to a man. He wasn’t even her type. He was too old for her—with a dusting of silver in his hair—and she normally preferred blue-collar types. Military men. Cops. Firefighters. Construction workers. Men with calloused hands.

Not like this guy at all.

“I know who you really are,” he said, easing even closer to her so that her breasts brushed lightly against his chest for a moment. “You believe in love, don’t you?”

It was so far from the truth, Kelly almost laughed. She hadn’t believed in love since her father was murdered. “You are so wrong about me, it’s not even funny. I bet I believe in love even less than you do.”

“What do you believe in, then?” He was touching her hair again, skimming the tips of his fingers down the length of one loose strand.

She could hardly believe he was a stranger. It felt like she knew him—all the way down to the core. “I believe in being self-sufficient, just like you do.” She leaned toward him just enough to graze her nipples against his shirt before she pulled back.

“Do you?” There was a slight flush to his cheeks now, and it looked like he was breathing more quickly. He was definitely turned on. Just as turned on as she was. “What else do you believe in?”

“I believe in seeing the world as it really is and not dreaming of romantic fairy tales, just like you do.” She knew this about him, as well as she knew it about herself.

She saw the affirmation in his eyes, mingling with the blaze of desire. “And what else?”

“And I believe in sex.” They were in a public park, but she didn’t care. Responding to the challenge he posed, she slid one hand down his chest, then his belly, until she reached his groin, which she gave a brief caress.

She hadn’t been wrong. He was aroused. Hard in his jeans.

His breath hitched at her touch, and she could see he was holding himself back. “What do you believe about sex?”

“I believe people can come together for mutual gratification without all the baggage the world has built up around it.”

“Ah,” he murmured thickly, settling one hand on the small of her back. “Free love, then? To go with the puppies and flowers?”

“Not love. Sex. There’s no overlap unless you make it so.”

“I don’t make it so.” He pushed her hips toward his body until she could feel his arousal against her middle.

She was fighting to catch her breath, her pussy pulsing with desire, and her mind struggling to keep up with his quick wit. “Somehow, I knew that about you.”

“I’ve met a lot of women who make such claims, but then they’re crying when I don’t call them the next morning.”

“I’ve met a lot of men who do the same thing.”

He shook his head, pushing his erection against her very slightly. To the people in the park, they must look like they were just hugging, but a hug was very far from what was going on between them.

To Kelly, it felt more like battle. And she liked it. A lot. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this turned on, this invested in a conversation.

“So, you don’t cry?” he asked, his brown eyes smoldering with lust, excitement, and intelligence.

“I haven’t cried since I was ten years old.”

That was true too. She hadn’t cried since the months after her father died. Her whole world had changed that year.

“I still have no proof this is nothing but pretense on your side.”

“Because I’m a woman? Because I have a sweet face? You’re old enough to know that appearances deceive. You can fuck me now, and I’d never give you a second thought. You’d never hear from me again.”

“If I fuck you,” he murmured, “I promise you’ll think of me again.”

“There’s no way you’re that good.”

“You shouldn’t say such things. You’ll only be proven wrong.”

“Your arrogance is astounding, but I still haven’t seen you follow through.”

“You want me to follow through?” It was a genuine question. She could see that he was waiting for an answer as he watched her, even through the growing desire.

“Oh, yeah.”

She’d had sex with strangers before. All she’d ever had was sex with strangers. She didn’t normally have sex on a Saturday morning in the park, but there was no good reason not to.

She wanted this man—like he was a challenge that must be met, a battle that must be won.

“We’ll see,” the man said, sounding faintly skeptical, as if he still didn’t believe she took sex as casually as he did.

“See how, exactly?” She raised her eyebrows in a question, a call to action.

The man met the call, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the wooded area nearby. He snapped his fingers, and the dog stopped chewing his Frisbee and jumped to his feet to follow.

Kelly’s breath caught in her throat as they neared the trees. “The car might be more comfortable.”

“I’m not going for comfort here.” His grip was firm and strong and authoritative as he pulled her after him.

She felt a wave of panic as they entered the trees, not at one of the trails, but in the thickly grown area closest to where they’d been standing.

The woods were dark, unknown, everything hidden—masking horrors she just couldn’t face.

When they’d gone a few feet in, she couldn’t make herself go any farther. She physically couldn’t do it, yanking her hand out of the man’s.

He turned around with a resigned expression. “That’s what I thought.”

He thought she’d given up. He thought he’d won.

But he wasn’t going to win this, her phobia about the woods be damned. She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him against a large tree. “What did you think? That we would go deep in the woods where you could safely hide, where no one could ever see what we were doing? This is far enough.”

There was more risk of being discovered, this close to the edge of the woods. They would be out of sight, but not very far.

Kelly didn’t care. The fear of being caught was far milder than her fear of going deeper into the woods. Even now, a chill had broken out on her skin, almost distracting her from her arousal.

Almost.

The man smiled hotly and reached up to span her ribs with both hands, turning them around so her back was to the tree instead. “Here it is, then.” One of his thumbs moved so it was brushing against her nipple.

Kelly felt like his thumb was branding her, as if she couldn’t feel anything else. She stared down at her body—at his strong, masculine hands curving around her ribs, at his thumb pushing against the soft swell of her breast, over the white fabric of her tank top.

He looked down too. Noticed how she was watching the way he was touching her.

He smiled then, like a predator. Moved his thumb until it was intentionally circling the hard peak of her nipple. “You like that, don’t you?”

Kelly sucked in a ragged breath, her body responding powerfully despite the distraction of the woods. As his thumb teased her nipple, she could feel corresponding tugs between her legs.

He was gazing down at his hand on her body, and he shifted it until he was cupping her breast. “Maybe the reason you’ve never thought about a man afterward is that the men you’ve fucked haven’t known how to handle your body.”

“And you think you can?” Part of her wished she could pull away from him, escape from the woods, from the strength of the challenge he posed to her. Instead, she arched against the tree as he flicked his thumb over her nipple. “Women who rely on the man to make things happen for them in bed always end up disappointed. I’ve never made that mistake.”

It was true. She came every time she had sex, but it was because she made sure it happened. Some men were good at sex. Some weren’t. Some tried to make sure the woman came. Some couldn’t care less. It didn’t make a difference. She had to be responsible for her own orgasm if she wanted to guarantee she reached it.

His eyes crawled hotly up her body. From her straining breasts, to her bare neck, to the flush of her cheeks. He leaned his face into hers, spoke against her lips—his breath hot and moist on her skin. “Then I guess I’ll have to prove something to you.”

“And what’s that?”

“By the time I’m through with you, you’ll have surrendered your delusion of self-sufficiency.”

“And by the time I’m through with you, all of your unrelenting alpha-maleness will be broken.”

He smiled, as if pleased and surprised by her reply, and before she could say anything else, he claimed her lips in a hard, demanding kiss. Kelly really should have resisted, not rewarded the astounding arrogance, the entitlement with which he evidently lived his life.

But instead she kissed him back.

His lips and tongue waged an assault, plundering her mouth, nearly devouring her, but Kelly returned the kiss with just as much fervor and intensity. She tangled her tongue with his and then ravaged the inside of his mouth, trying to feel as much of him as she could.

He made a guttural sound and fisted his hand in her ponytail. His other hand was still at her breast, and he squeezed the soft flesh and chafed the nipple until Kelly was moaning into his hot mouth.

As they kissed, his hand moved from her breast to slide down her back, until it nudged under the waistband of her skirt. She could feel his fingers on the bare skin of her ass.

“You really up for this?” he asked hoarsely, when he’d torn his lips away from hers.

Kelly’s hands had ended up in his thick dark hair. “I am,” she said, grinding her breasts against his chest. “The real question is, are you?”

Instead of answering, he adjusted their positions again, pushing her even more firmly against the rough tree. He dipped his hand into the low neckline of her tank top and pulled one of her breasts out of the cup of her bra.

Kelly groaned as he leaned over to take her naked breast in his mouth. He suckled it, fluttering his agile tongue over her already sensitive nipple. She clawed at the back of his neck, the lingering fear from the woods intensifying her sensations far more than the possibility of their being seen or heard by anyone else in the park.

The dog was lying down a distance away, chewing his Frisbee again.

“No wonder those other men didn’t impress you.” He spoke over her skin, continuing to stimulate her with tantalizing nips and sucks. His hand moving from her back to start bunching up her skirt, he continued, “What you really want is a man to take you hard.”

Kelly cried out breathlessly, her wet arousal beginning to throb as he skillfully worked her over. She should have been angered, offended by the words, and part of her was.

But it wasn’t a part of her that mattered at the moment.

She found the hard bulge at the front of his jeans, applying pressure with her hand. She spoke over the hoarse groan he released in response. “And what you really want is a woman who gives as much as she takes.”

He scraped her breast with his teeth, causing Kelly to arch dramatically against the tree again.

She found herself clumsily fumbling with the top button on his jeans, and he was kissing her again, his hand the only thing between her head and the tree. His lips were hungry and skillful, and his body was strong, hard, and hotter than anything else.

And Kelly completely lost sight of the rest of the world. There was only this woods. This urgency and lingering fear. This desire. This heat.

And this man.

His cock was suddenly free. She didn’t—couldn’t—look down at it, but she could feel the hard, throbbing flesh beneath her hand.

He was pushing into her, holding her trapped against the tree as he finished bunching her skirt up around her hips. Kelly was gasping frantically, one small part of herself wondering what the hell she was doing, but the rest of her nearly howling because she wanted him inside her so much.

“Condom,” she managed to gasp.

She had one in her bag, but he evidently had one himself, since he was pulling it out and unwrapping it, almost before she got the one word out.

He was obviously that kind of man. Always with a condom at the ready.

Like her.

He rolled it on, and then his hands moved to her thighs, spreading them apart, spreading her open to him. His fingers nudged between her legs, couldn’t fail to notice how warm and wet her pussy had become.

He bent his knees slightly until he could line up his cock at her entrance, pushing aside her panties and hooking one of his arms around her thigh to get her in position. His eyes were almost wild as they locked onto hers. “You can still change your mind, if you want.”

“I’m not about to change my mind,” she gasped, feeling the head of his cock nuzzling her. The light friction was exquisite torture.

He slid inside her in one fast stroke, nothing gentle or hesitant about the urgent lever of his hips.

Kelly bit her lip hard, her tight inner muscles protesting the substantial intrusion. She was clutching his shoulders, and her fingers dug into his flesh.

“Fuck!” he rasped, breathing hard against the skin of her neck. He repositioned his arms so that he was squeezing the cheeks of her ass with both hands, her thigh still hooked over his arm. “God, you’re tight. What kind of puny boys have you been fucking?”

Without waiting for an answer he wasn’t going to get, he began to pump into her, bending his knees to accommodate her slightly shorter body and driving into her with hard, lateral thrusts.

Kelly’s head fell back until it hit the tree, and she made a helpless noise as the initial discomfort from his size began to mingle with an urgent, growing need at her core.

The motion didn’t feel tingly and pleasant, the way it had when he’d suckled her breast. But the friction felt full. And intense. And necessary.

Her muscles relaxed around him and started to cling to his cock, and she grunted every time he pushed his way into her body.

“You like it?” he demanded, on an urgent exhale. His body was tense, and the muscles of his neck and thighs were straining as he thrust. “You want this?”

“Yeah,” she choked, the discomfort forgotten as a new pressure began to build, coalescing all around where his hard length was sliding slickly inside her. “Yeah.” One breathless word on each of his thrusts.

Kelly tried to move her hips with his, wanting to intensify the friction the way she always did to make sure she reached orgasm. But she was trapped between his body and the tree, so she raised her leg higher in an attempt to wrap it around him.

In response to the frantic insistence of her leg, he lifted her thigh higher with his forearm. He grabbed her ass again, spreading her open to him more completely. “Fuck,” he gasped, “you want more?”

Now she was even more helpless, the one leg hanging over his arm and bouncing with their urgent motion. But she began to whimper as her pleasure spiraled up, the shift in position making the experience even hotter, more erotic. “Yeah,” she said hoarsely. “More. I’m not the little blossom you think I am. I can take everything you’ve got.”

He was grunting and panting now too, his face strained, damp, and dirty. His rhythm was becoming less and less controlled, and he was slamming into her, slamming her up and back into the tree with the force of his thrusts.

Her sore back was probably bruised, and her thigh muscles were aching from being stretched so unnaturally. Her butt was scraping against the tree bark, and she was sure the skin was now broken. And her pussy felt raw and overly sensitized from the rough stroking of his cock.