Page 15 of Burned By Sin
Pushing the key card into the lock, I slip into the hotel room on silent feet. The lights are on, highlighting the accents of silver in the bedframe and desk chair. The walls are powdered blue like the spongy carpet, a large mirror over the desk which I stop to check myself out in. Behind a closed door in my reflection, the shower thunders, steam billowing out as Harper hums to herself.Perfect.
I’d left her here with the direct order to relax and pamper herself, before heading back to the mall I saw down the road. The stores were limited but once I flashed my father’s gold card, the staff were more than accommodating.
Tossing down a handful of designer bags on the desk, I rifle through the clothes I can’t wait to see Harper in. Althoughclothesmight be a stretch for the strappy pieces of fabric that cost more than most people’s monthly wages. I nudge them all aside for now, grabbing a navy bra and thong set to place artfully on the bed. In the center of the bra cups, a satin bow is held in place by a sparkling jewel. Her receivers are on the bedside table, so I pocket those before moving toward the balcony.
A floor-to-ceiling curtain separates the room from the sliding glassdoors that lead outside, the fabric heavy enough to hide behind. I slip behind, tucking myself into the narrow gap where the curtain meets the glass. The sliding door to the balcony is cracked open, letting in a faint breeze that shifts the curtain every so often. Pulling out my phone, I type out a message to the bastard I once vowed never to speak to again.
Me: Tick tock. Time is running out.
The reply bubbles appear and disappear a few times, his hesitation bringing a bigger smile to my face. I’m practically giddy as I hear the shower water shut off. Slowly, I ease the sliding door open a little wider behind me and slip out onto the balcony. My phone buzzes in my hand.
Shitface: You’re bluffing.
Me: Let’s test that theory, shall we?
Hitting the video call button, I balance my phone on the small hanging plant just outside the open door, its camera angled toward the view so he can see the hotel’s name glowing on the building across the street. Despite himself, Clayton accepts the video call, his background confirming he’s here. I chuckle under my breath, throwing up both middle fingers toward the screen. He can pretend he doesn’t care, but we both knew he would show. He can’t resist his own damn morals.
A shadow crosses the other side of the curtain as Harper makes an appreciative sound at my choice of underwear. I step closer to the fabric, my pulse kicking up.Showtime. Excitement courses through me, a snigger threatening to escape my throat. Not that Harper would hear it, but I bite back the noise regardless. I haven’t felt this alive in…well, possibly ever. I’ve made my girl a promise, and I’m about to cash in. She’s going to be so wet for me after this.
I slide a sliver of the heavy fabric aside just enough to watch herdress like a creep. The delicate curve of her spine as she pulls on the thong, the clasp of the bra, the way her damp hair has already started to curl at the ends. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Harper shifts, hunting for her receivers and starting to turn as I shift back onto the balcony. The curtain billows perfectly, luring her in, baiting her curiosity.
The second she steps close enough, I strike, pulling her through the curtain and twisting her by the hips. Her scream pierces my skull, but it’s nothing compared to the sound she makes as I lift her waist and back her up to the railing. An evil grin has grown across my face, my soul soothed by the control powering its way through my core. Placing her on the edge, I bathe in the moment as she tries to claw my eyes out. She thrashes, her fear painting her eyes bright and wild. Beautiful. Exactly how I pictured it. I cage her in and lean close, letting my lips scrape her cheek.
“Rhys! Put me down! What are you - let go of me!” She writhes frantically. Every muscle in my body is alive with the kind of anticipation that makes my teeth ache. I humor her, despite her not being about to hear me.
“It’s okay, Babygirl. Your golden retriever hero will save you.” Planting a kiss against her temple, I shove her backwards. Her screech tears the night in two as I lurch over the railing to watch it all unfold. The fall is exhilarating, my heart barely contained in my chest. This high is better than any drug.
Just before Harper hits the pool below, a silhouette dives forward from the ledge and catches her. It’s poetic really. They crash into the water, the splash drenching the sides of the pool. Scooped up in the safety of Clayton’s arms, Harper bobs to the surface, cursing my name into the sky. Laughter rushes through me, my hands shaking with adrenaline. I knew she’d be wet for me.
Returning to the bags, I dig out my celebratory cigar and lighter. The air is fresh tonight, the sky clear enough for the moon to shineproudly. Settling in a wicker chair on the balcony, I puff thick circles of smoke into existence and praise myself for a job well done. I knew Clayton wouldn’t be able to stop himself from being her savior. It’s as engraved in his bones as tormenting is in mine. Leopards can’t change their spots, no matter how far they try to run away from them.
The door behind me slams open, an employee asking Harper if she’s sure they don’t need the cops called. Considering she can’t hear, Clayton responds with a gruff no, vowing to kill me himself. Bring it on. Two sets of footsteps stomp through the hotel room, a very soggy Harper appearing to slap the cigar from my hand.
“What were you thinking?! I could have died!” she screams, snatching the offered towel from Clayton. I get a good look at her in the lingerie set first, wondering what Clay’s scowl is about. I literally packaged her up with a bow and threw her into his arms. It doesn’t get more romantic than that.
Digging her receivers out of my pocket, I hand them over, despite the intensified rage that contorts her features. Once she’s clicked them in place, I stand and retrieve my phone from the hanging plant pot.
“I knew the pool was there, obviously. I had every faith you would be fine.”
“Every faith? Every. Fucking. Faith?!” Harper flies into a rant, cursing me in ways I’ve never heard, as she storms back into the bedroom. I follow, leaning against the door, appreciating once again how beautiful she is. Especially when she’s mad. Her lip peels back in a snarl, her hand fisted around a brush while she takes her fury out on her hair. Even the red flush that’s covering her heaving chest. Fucking exquisite.
Clay stands around, glaring a hole into the side of my head. I pointedly ignore him and his assumptions of what I’m thinking. I texted him two hours ago and told him I was going to throw Harper over, and no one can say I’m not a man of my word. As if I would actually put Harper’s life in danger. She’s too precious to me. The only thing that’sworth preserving in my life, and if that means throwing her into another man’s arms, if that’s what will make her happy, then so be it.
After a beat of watching Harper attempt to make herself go bald, Clayton groans and walks over to grab her wrist in midair. He wheels her around, planting the two of them in a desk chair and pries the hairbrush from her grip. Her ass is pressed against his dick, her arms crossed like a tantruming child as he brushes the tangles from her pink hair and then reaches for the hair dryer. I laugh and roll my eyes, heading for the shower myself.
“Play nice you two, and stop dripping all over the carpet. There are clothes in those bags for everyone and dinner is booked for eight.” Closing the door between us, I lean over the basin and give myself a high five in the mirror. Plan ‘get Clayton back in Harper’s life’ was a huge success, and the feisty, angry sex I’ll get later will be an added bonus. Ahh, who am I kidding? It was my entire incentive.
Two neat stacks of casino chips slide across the polished counter toward me. I wink at the tanned dealer, then pull the chips toward Harper, wrapping my arm around her waist when she tries to back off. With my free hand, I flick open her clutch and hold it up with my intentions clear. She can have every other night, tonight I’m in charge. She drops the chips inside, her lips pressed in that little line that makes me want to ruin her lipstick just to see it smudged.
“Where first?” I murmur into the mic clipped to my mauve shirt. The fabric clings tight across my chest, my jeans pressed and dark, my loafers shining under the casino lights. The ink of my tattoos gleam from the oil I rubbed into them, my cologne sharp in my nose. I’ve turned myself into walking temptation, and fuck, it’s even working on me.
Harper also looks like a prize worth stealing. Gold dress hugging her body, mesh sleeves sparkling as the lights dance off them, ponytail bouncing with every step. The back dips low, bare skin daring my hands to stray lower, and her legs look like they go on forever in those heels. The dress stops short of revealing her ass, and every inch concealed beneath belongs to my imagination.
The casino drinks her in like I do. Heads turn as we pass, men openly staring, women whispering, and I’m content to let them look. She’s on my arm, not theirs. Clayton trails behind us, a shadow moving just far enough back to look like he’s minding his own business, but I know he’s watching. He won’t let me and Harper out of sight, as if I’m going to chuck her in the nearest trash can or down the nearest stairwell.
Harper steers us to the roulette table, the crowd parting for us automatically. It’s commonplace when you’re filthy rich. People can sense the undeserving privilege like they can smell it on my extortionately priced cologne.
“Place your bets,” the croupier calls. He’s a burly man, in his forties maybe, with flecks of fiery red showing beneath his silver-streaked hair. When Harper doesn’t make a move, I take a handful of chips from her clutch bag and hand them over to be exchanged for roulette chips. Harper’s eyes widen, a small intake passing through her parted lips.
