Page 47 of Brutal Sin

Chapter Twelve

The café’sdining room was empty, spare a few women sharing their usual mid-afternoon coffee. The lull always hit hardest on Tuesday afternoons, which made for really crappy timing since Pamela’s mind was mimicking an attention-starved toddler.

“Drop the dishcloth and nobody getshurt.”

Her hand paused mid-circular motion on the counter, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Kim holding the window spray as a weapon.

“What are you doing?”

“Mom and I have been patient, but your time is up. You need to stop the manic cleaning so we can have a serious conversation.”

Pamela released the cloth and wiped her hands on the ass of her black leggings. “What have Idone?”

“It’s been twodays.”

“Two days,” her mom parroted from the kitchen.

“Since?” She stalled, praying they weren’t going to bring up the person she’d been trying desperately to forget. It had been two days since Brute. Two days since Chinese, orgasms, and a formidably sexy body in herbed.

“Don’t play dumb.” Kim crossed her arms over her chest. “We’ve given you space to digest whatever happened, and now we want the dirty details.”

“Not today.” She reclaimed her cloth and continued with the calming circular motions. “I don’t want to talk aboutit.”

“Since when?” Kim hissed. “You always tell me everything.”

“Yeah…well, maybe it’s time I stopped oversharing.”

“Did he say something? Or do something?”

Pamela scoffed. “From now on, take that as a given. But after the other night, I’ve got bigger problems than his insults.”

“I knew it.” Her mother shoved through the swinging kitchen doors. “I never would’ve picked it from such a handsome boy, but I told Kim I had a niggling feeling about those marks on your throat.”

“Mom,” her sister warned. “We discussed this and decided it was arash.”

Oh. Shit.

Pamela’s hand instinctively snapped to her neck, covering the thin scarf strategically placed around the fading red fingermarks.

“Or am I wrong?” Kim went from chastisement to fire and brimstone with the widening of her eyes. “Did he force himself onyou?”

“No. God, no.” How did she admit to loving every second of his strong hold around her throat? How could she make them understand she’d never been more turned on than in that moment? “The marksare…”

“Damn it, Pamela. Just tell us what happened.” Her mother’s concern came with a volatile voice. “Is everythingokay?”

“Yes.” She sucked in a breath and slumped with the exhale. She’d been dodging this conversation for a while. “Actually, no.” She didn’t want to admit what happened—the monumental stupidity. Problem was, she knew this drill. They weren’t going to leave her alone until she blurted the truth. “I fell forhim.”

They stared.

Unmoving.

Unblinking.

“It’s idiotic, I know.” She winced through the words. “It must be something hormonal.”

“I thought you said he was a dick.” Kim lowered her voice and did a visual scan of the few remaining customers.

“He is.” Oh, God, heis.

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