Page 83 of My Beautiful Sin

Again, his palm lands hard, and again he rubs the sore spot. But this time he spreads my legs, his fingers going to my slippery core before moving back to my neck, holding me in place. Reminding me that right now, he is my everything. Even the air that I breathe.

“You like that.” It’s a statement, not a question.

I nod.

“What do you like?”

“All of it.” My voice is raspy against the tightness of his grip. “You,” I clarify. “I like what you’re doing. I want this. I want—”

“What?”

“To surrender,” I admit.

“You’ve always been in control,” he says. “But not with me. With me, you surrender.” He turns me back around as he speaks, then lifts me up. I hook my legs behind his back, then cling to his shoulders as he enters me. Each thrust pounds my back against the wall, and I curl my body against him, feeling the pressure build between us as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside me, claiming me. Owning me.

“Never again,” he says as we’re both on the brink of the explosion. “No more keeping me in the dark. What hurts you, hurts me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say, then, as the orgasm crashes over me, “Oh, God, yes.”

I burst apart, taking him with me, and soon he’s stumbling back to the bed, me still clinging to him until we break apart as we hit the mattress, both of us breathing hard. After a moment, he bends over me for a soft, sweet kiss. “Don’t keep me in the dark again.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry. You’re right.” The words stick in my throat because they’re true. I should have called. He deserves to know. Because even though he hasn’t said it out loud, he loves me.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat as I move on top of him with my cheek resting against his chest. “I didn’t expect you to find out, though I should have,” I add wryly. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. But that was wrong of me.” I pull back to look at his face. “How did you hear?”

His expression suggests I’ve forgotten how to think. “There were dozens of people around, all of whom had camera phones and social media accounts. Only one person had to recognize you as my girlfriend, and—”

“Shit.” I let out a harsh breath. “Okay. I am an idiot. But so are Lamar and Brandy.”

He makes a growling noise.

“No, don’t even. They both told me I should text you. But none of us thought about Twitter.” I make a face, then look up at him again. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.” He closes his eyes and draws a breath before looking at me. When he’s done, I still see the lingering fear. “Dammit, El, don’t do that again.”

“Almost get run down? Trust me. Really not on my list.”

“Do you have any idea who did it?”

“All I know is that it was a black Range Rover.” I tilt my head. “Isn’t that what Ronan drives?”

I know that it is. I’d watched him drive away last night, comforted only by the fact of his parting words and the fact that in Southern California you can’t throw a rock without hitting a Range Rover. That and Devlin’s unwavering trust in him.

Even so…

I meet Devlin’s eyes. “He does, doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he didn’t—”

“I know you believe that,” I cut in. “And I want to trust him—I really do. But he seemed pretty irritated that I was poking around in the Myers story. And I—” I pause to gather my thoughts. “The thing is, I trust my instincts. They’re solid, and they’re one of my tools as a reporter. Go with the facts, but don’t ignore instinct, right? And there’s something about Ronan that—”

“Trust me,” Devlin interrupts. “Listen to your instincts, but at the end of the day, trust me.”

“I do.” My voice sounds small, and his bisected brow rises in response. “I do,” I repeat. “About almost everything. And as far as Ronan goes, I really am trying.”

He almost smiles. “I asked him to come see you because I was irritated about your Myers investigation. At the time, I hadn’t heard that you’d almost been killed or I would have dropped everything and come myself.”

I shrug. “Well, that made a great cover story for him, then.”