Page 78 of Sixth Sin

Nothing about tonight is all right. I’d planned to tell her a watered-down version of my past with Luciano. But somewhere between sitting down at the table and opening my mouth, my plan went to hell. We started arguing, and before I knew it, words became lust. I still haven’t figured out when the tables turned.

However, even the most patient man has his breaking point. Mine was her walking out of that restaurant.

Without saying a word, I turn off the ignition and wait for her to get off first before swinging my leg to the concrete. Narrowing my eyes, I stare at her, starting at her fuck-me heels and working my way up to that black skirt and fancy blue shirt.

Angel shifts nervously. “Dominic?” She fidgets with the diamonds dripping from her neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Why? Because I warned her outside that bar in Chula Vista that this would happen. She asked me what I wanted from her. I told her everything. And here I am, taking everything.

I stalk toward her, and she steps back. “Wait, Dominic, I’m not so sure—”

“I am.”

Another step back. “But Rosten will—”

“Shhh.” A smirk creeps along the corner of my mouth as I back her against the door and cage her between my arms. If it weren’t for the neighbors, I’d fuck her right here against the door. Instead, I stick a boot between her legs and pin her arms, my body flush against hers.

Angel pulls at her restrained arms, and unable to move them, kicks her heel backward against the door. “Men are such controlling assholes.”

I push against her, rubbing friction between our bodies. She rewards me with a full groan. “Women are such manipulative bitches.”

Our eyes meet, and a moment later, we’re a tangle of lips, mouths, tongues, and hands. My fingers dive into her hair, weaving through the mass of dark waves to cradle her head.

She tastes incredible. Sweet and dangerous—a contradiction that fucks my mind up and sets it on a path of destruction. It’s a taste that makes a man want to protect her then do dirty, unspeakable things to her.

One hand drops from her face to her toned ass. It fits perfectly in my palm. But the skirt pisses me off, so I slide my hand underneath it to find bare skin.

No thong.

Fuck. Me.

Our kisses become frantic, and teeth begin to clash as our breaths become choppy. As I dig my fingers into her skin, Angel draws my bottom lip between hers and bites down.

Shit, that’s it. I’m done.

Growling, I unlock the door, kick it open, and pick her up by the back of the thighs.

She wraps her legs around my waist, and as I carry her to my bedroom, she whispers against my lips, her voice hoarse from our hard kisses, “I still hate you.”

“Good,” I say, kicking my bedroom door shut.

CHAPTER THIRTY

ANGEL

You can justify just about anything if you want it bad enough.

The logical side of me knew we crossed the line the first time we kissed. But again, justification made it easy. He’s a safe oasis nestled in the eye of chaos. Even though he can be bitter, there’s still beauty in his pain.

He’s cruel and bitter, yet still beautiful.

I stiffen, flung like a rag doll into a storm of static, scratches, and zigzag lightning. I can’t move as images flash through my mind.

I shake, saying the pieces of the Lord’s Prayer I can remember. I have no idea if it’s right. I can’t hear anything over the loud noises, so I cover my ears and close my eyes. I don’t know what makes me look up. It’s a feeling. One that wraps around me like a mother’s arms, but cold. Cold and dark. How can something so beautiful be so dark?

“Are you God?” I ask quietly.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Dominic’s rough voice washes over me as he stands by his bed and loosens his hold on my legs.

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