Page 104 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
“My assistant mentioned it.”
“She wants to go there?”
Tony laughs. “He. And no, he does not. He’s very happy where he is.”
When I open my mouth, he lets go of my hair and massages my neck. I sigh with bliss. I didn’t know I had so much tension there. Or that he was so talented with his hands.
After a moment, he says, “There’s still got an hour or two of daylight left. Let’s go out.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere we want.” His eyes sparkle, making me excited.
I smile. “How about a drive along the coast? I’ve heard it’s beautiful, but I’ve never had a chance to see it.”
“That’s a crime, and we’ll fix it right now.”
No silver Cullinan this time. Instead, we’re in an indigo Audi convertible. And no TJ. I can feel myself grinning hugely. This is the first time we’ve driven without the disapproving Visigoth.
Tony lays his suit jacket in the trunk, and we’re off up the coastline. I inhale the Pacific’s slightly briny breeze, and all the weight of living with my imperfect memories and the anxiety of trying to settle in one place long-term float away. The wind ruffles Tony’s hair and shirt, and his mouth is curved into a faint smile. He looks utterly masculine…and at the same time charming and adorable.
Acting purely on impulse, I press a kiss on his cheek.
I feel his gaze sliding toward me under his dark sunglasses. The smile widens, he links his hand with mine…and I’m more content than I can ever remember. Here’s a gorgeous guy who knows about my baggage and issues but isn’t running away. He helps me, cares about my well-being, and he doesn’t judge me for being damaged. He accepts me the way I am, and I can’t believe how liberating it is to just…be me. I adore him for the sense of freedom he’s given me.
We make our way up PCH, along the winding splendor of the California coastline, hills rising on our right and the ultramarine expanse of the Pacific to our left. I like the drive along the coast, but finally Tony pulls into a lot at a seafood shack by a beach. The exterior’s white, with paint peeling around the edges from the wind and sun. The restaurant is cute and rustic, with bright, colorful lights and a gritty, sandy floor made with wide wooden planks that squeak with every step. A cheery waiter in a white shirt, khakis and a red apron around his hips greets us.
The place is pretty busy, but we’re seated quickly at a table with a great view of the water. Instead of looking at the menu, I turn to the waiter. “What do you recommend?”
“For a couple like you, definitely our seafood platter for two. Comes with salad and fries. It’s got everything—shrimp, clams, crab cakes, fried fish and, um—”
“Sounds great,” I say, stopping the waiter from listing “everything.” I turn to Tony. “What do you think?”
“Whatever you want,” he says, shooting me a smile so easy and carefree that he looks years younger.
My pink lemonade and Tony’s tonic water arrive quickly. As I sip my lemonade, I spot some women staring at Tony rather blatantly, taking in his chiseled features, his fine clothes and the light smile on his face.
When they notice me, they look at me up and down, then dismiss me like I’m no competition. Maybe I’m not, in their minds. They’re taller and leggier, with bigger breasts. Not to mention they’re tanned and have the gorgeous beach-girl features that say they’re probably going to Los Angeles to try their luck with the movie business or modeling. And they’re brunettes, just the type Marty said Tony likes.
Their blatant staring, along with the way they dismiss me, starts to get irritating. The feeling is new and surprising. Women do the same thing when Byron and I are out together, and I always just find it…amusing.
“You all right?” Tony says.
I tilt my chin in the women’s direction.
He turns his head to look, and I suppress an urge to bare my teeth as they preen and shoot megawatt smiles at him. I shouldn’t have pointed them out. Instead, I should’ve put a big neon sign flashing MINE over him. It’s insane how possessive I feel about him. But I feel like I’m with someone so special, I don’t want to share him at all.
Oh my God.Am I jealous? Is that what this is about? It’s such an unsettling, unpleasant sensation. The weirdest thing is I can’t decide if I’m allowed to feel it. It isn’t like Tony’s mine. We haven’t established anything. We haven’t spent enough time together to do that, even though I keep feeling like I’ve known him forever.
I steal a quick peek at Tony. His expression is blank—mildly annoyed, if anything. The women could be plucked chickens for all the interest he’s showing.
Tony turns back to me and takes my hand. “Unfortunately for those ladies, I like a beautiful strawberry blonde with long fingers, who can play the piano like a dream, likes to nap after practice and has a cute little mole under her mouth. I even adore the scar on her palm, and I doubt any of those ladies has one.”
The quiet intensity of his words makes my chest constrict while hot longing pulses through me. He and I have met before, I’m sure of it. The kind of connection I feel for him is too extreme. It’s as though my mind’s decided he’s The One.
And there’s no going back.
He kisses my fingertips. “What I’m saying is, don’t let them upset you. I’m not here with them. I’m here with you.”
The ugly, tight knot in my chest eases, and I stare back at him. Oh my God, I’m in deep. I should be scared at how fast this is happening, but I’m not.
