Page 82 of Sinner's Vows

“God, Dominic, please…” I moan, his words bringing me right back to the edge I’ve stepped away from.

“Look down, sweetheart. See what you do to me,” he says then as he leans back, and I look at our wet bodies, my gaze following the line between his pecs, lower to his abs and then to his cock where it reaches beyond his navel.

The tip glistens with pre-cum, and the veins on his hand bulge as he jerks up and down, so rough with his own flesh, so open in his own need. He is all hard tattooed muscles, his skin this Mediterranean hue I’ve skipped completely, almost deathly pale against his complexion with a body that hadn’t seen proper sun for weeks. I drop my hand to my hip, exposing both my breasts to him, my pert nipples hard and begging.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he says as he widens the gap between our bodies to see all of me, the tension between us climbing to the point of no return as his movements become so fast and fluid, they blur with my own frantic circling of my clit. “Let go, sweetheart,” he demands then. “Just let go and come for me.”

At his words, my orgasm crashes through me with such force, I cry out, fisting my free hand to my mouth to stop myself from calling out his name in desperation.

“Fuck, Ariana,” he groans, then hisses as he comes, angling himself at the last second to shoot his release onto the wall beside me.

His body trembles as it comes down its high, his shoulder muscles and biceps straining as he keeps the arm’s length between us, his gaze hooked into mine. I’m dazed by his erotic pull, by the intensity of what we’ve done, with the sweet unknotting of my own release. I want to slide to the floor, feeling weak as I pull my hand away from my sex, slick with my spent desire.

“I want to fucking lick that off you so bad,” Dominic says as he pushes off the wall, opening the space between us.

The warm water sprays onto my body again, bringing me back to reality and what we’ve done.

“I want you to, but this…this already crossed a line.” The words tumble out of me on a ragged breath.

“For all we know, there’s no line in the first place. And if you think this is a sin… I’m not even sure where sin starts and where it ends anymore.”

He reaches for the soap and washes himself as I just stand there, at leisure to take in every inch of his body. And it is magnificent. Strong and virile, with his cock still jutting out. He’s perfection.

I want to touch him so badly, but everything I discovered in his mom’s journal today is holding me back.

“Keep on looking at me like that, sweetheart—” he murmurs as he rinses off the suds, “—and we’ll do all of that again.”

“We’ll go straight to Hell,” I say, as if I haven’t been there already.

“All I know is that sin has never felt this good.” He smiles at me as he opens the shower door. “And it would be fun burning together.”

44

DOMINIC

I get out of the shower and reach for a towel. As I wrap it around my waist, Ariana steps underneath the water to rinse off.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous. I can’t stop staring. Pale skin, small pert breasts with rosy nipples that are hard, jutting out in perfect peaks. My thumbs burn to massage them, my hands itch to caress her body, flowing with the route the water takes, slowly, testing every inch of her for a reaction so I can get to know her intimately.

Something in my gut feel about today has to do with the fact that she declared we could definitely be brother and sister, something she’s denied from the moment we met. Fuck me. If I ever feel about a sister like I do about her—never mind sexually, but with a heart that beats heavy with an emotion I’m unfamiliar with and which I’m not ready to categorize—the devil can have my skin to wear as a trophy.

Tomorrow is the day we cross that bridge, and I’ll keep my hands off her until then. As for what I’ll do to her when those results come through…fuck knows how I’m going to contain myself if they’re positive. Fuck knows how I’m going to contain myself if they’re negative.

I’m fucked either way.

And irrespective of what happens tomorrow, I already feel as if I won’t be able to let her go if I need to. If she’s our sister, her value will go up a million fold. If she’s nothing to us, Matteo might have no scruples to throw her to the wolves.

The only way I’m letting that happen is over my dead body.

As she turns off the faucet, I pull a towel from the railing with a suppressed sigh and hold it out for her. She steps into it, and I wrap it around her shoulders, wanting to pull her into a hug, but forcing myself to stay at arm’s length. That blush is full on her face, her gaze downcast as she grips the towel tight to cover up. Shy. Ashamed. Embarrassed.

“Hey,” I say, lifting her chin with a fingertip, forcing her to meet my gaze. “None of that with me, okay?”

Her blush deepens as she blinks at me, a quiver running through her body. “Okay.”

She softens her hold on the towel, and when I reach for it, she lets go.

I take my time to gently wipe her down, starting at the top with her shoulders and arms, lower to her sides and her breasts, making sure to keep the thick, fluffy terrycloth between my skin and hers, but fuck if it isn’t even more erotic than what we did in the shower. Her trust in me, and the consequent need to only prove again that I’m worthy, fuels every delicate swipe, every gentle caress.

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