Page 48 of Protected By the Sinner
Of course, the opposite is also true. I now know how to draw every moan from my golden goddess. I know how she begs for more when I kiss that one spot near her ear, and how she melts when, right before she comes, I tell her she’s mine.
Even though she’s still guarded and distant outside the bedroom, when we’re having sex, Amber is one hundred percent mine.
She gives herself without fear or shame—and always wants more.
But that “more” is strictly about pleasure. Not feelings.
And that’s the part that confuses me: she hasn’t asked for anything from me.
I’ve been with enough women to know that detachment at the beginning always turns into expectations eventually.
At first, I was on alert, waiting for the signs, but she keeps acting like if I woke up tomorrow and said this was over, she’d just turn around and walk away.
She’s got a strong personality and doesn’t let anyone intimidate her. She and Roman don’t like each other at all, and once, I watched as he asked her a loaded question about her past. Her response nearly made me laugh.
“If I don’t owe your boss an explanation, I sure as hell don’t owe you one.”
I know Roman doesn’t trust her, but he hasn’t been able to find a single clue about why Amber approached me that night at the club.
She’s still a mystery to us.
A delicious one, but a mystery all the same.
Sometimes, she looks around like she doesn’t believe what she’s experiencing, and my need for control screams for her to give me more.
I’ve picked up a few things, just by watching her, of course.
That boldness of hers? Natural.
Same with the sharp, intelligent mind.
When she lets herself relax, she’s sarcastic—always quick with a comeback—and I catch myself laughing at her impertinence.
But there’s one thing in particular I’ve learned about her: she’s a survivor.
Now and then—despite her refusing to talk about her past—I bring something up.
She drops little clues, unconsciously, that her childhood wasn’t easy.
Once, she was savoring a dessert at a restaurant, and for some reason, I ended up telling her how my adoptive mother, Aurellie, loved to cook and madebeignets[2] for me every Saturday. Amber relaxed in her seat and asked me to keep talking about my childhood. She even stopped eating to listen, like she was absorbing every word.
Sensing an opportunity, I asked what her favorite childhood dessert was. Her answer only deepened the enigma around her.
“None. They didn’t allow us any kind of pleasure.”
They.
Amber drops little bombs like that every once in a while, and I’m certain it’s unintentional.
I don’t think she’ll ever actually tell me, so I’ve ordered Roman to dig deeper until he finds out everything.
I return to my desk but keep watching the monitor on my laptop, focused on where she was speaking with my employee.
I see her heading upstairs, and I know it won’t be long until she’s here. As always, the anticipation turns me on.
This madness she stirs in me isn’t something I accept easily. I fight it every day, keeping in mind that what we have is temporary, even if I’m not ready to end it yet. But to have Amber in my life, even if just for a little while, I need to know more about her.
In my position, I can’t afford to respect people’s boundaries. I don’t tolerate reticence from anyone in my inner circle.
