Her eyes glittered and narrowed to slits. “Why do you want to know?” Kylie smirked and that was the moment I knew I was fucked. If I wasn’t careful, she would absolutely own me. A simple snap of her fingers and I’d gladly do whatever she asked, up to and including rolling over and begging at her feet.
Like before, the sound of my name coming from those sinful lips, in that husky voice, made my balls tingle. Instead of grabbing Kylie and slamming my mouth down on hers like I wanted to, I laughed.
“You’re a trip. You know that?” Two could play this little game. With a shameless grin, I leaned in until my mouth touched the curve of her ear. The falter in her breath made my cock swell against my zipper. “I want to know the name of the man I have to teach some manners to, since he didn’t take proper care of you, and left me to lend you my clothes.”
Kylie frowned when I retreated. “I’m not wear—”
I shrugged out of my suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Yeah, yeah, it was chivalrous and all that, but to be clear, I’m not a gentleman. Far from it. Case in point, I couldn’t help but brush my fingertips across her creamy skin as I pulled my hands away. Sneak in a little grope. Light as the touch was, the heat of her flesh was like a third-degree burn. Kylie shivered again, only this time I was pretty sure it wasn’t from the cold.
Hmm, she could try to hide it, but I knew she wanted me.
Kylie grinned, a wicked, sexy, fuck me grin that made all the blood in my body head south.
“I plead the fifth,” she said.
Fucking hell, that voice. Undoubtedly feminine, with a hint of smoldering rasp woven through it. She may as well have been jerking me off.
I smiled, even though I wanted that goddamn name. Kylie was dangerous. I had to play it right or I risked pissing her off. Then I would have nothing. No name, no flirting, and no Kylie.
“Alright,” I said reluctantly as I made sure the fake smile stayed pasted on my face. I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you. Again.”
Kylie hesitated, but eventually slipped her small hand into mine. If I thought the tingle from the stroke of fingertips on her shoulder was amazing, full hand to hand contact nearly made me blow in my briefs. Somehow, the minimal touch sizzled almost as strong and scorching hot as full-blown sex, the sensation akin to a static shock, only more intense. Electricity hissed and popped at a cellular level, the sparks lighting up every last one of my erogenous zones—and with Kylie, I discovered there were a lot more than I previously thought.
With a layer of thick, potent desire that roiled just below the surface of my skin, I never wanted to let go. Somehow, I managed to keep the handshake brief, though I held on a little too long. Long enough to be awkward. Kylie frowned and when she tugged to free herself from my grip, I reluctantly released her.
She immediately used her reclaimed hand to clasp the front of my jacket closed, to shield her bare skin from the bitter wind. The air between us went from inferno to glacial, comfortable to cumbersome, like two total strangers who fucked once then bumped into each other unexpectedly.
No surprise since that was exactly what we were.
Kylie looked down, thick lashes fluttering against her rosy cheeks, then glanced up to meet my gaze. The unintentional, yet undeniably seductive move made my mouth go dry and the static shocks returned with a startling jolt.
“So,” she said, “I never asked. What’s the deal? Why did you send me your jersey?”
Even wearing what looked to be fairly high heels, I stood a lot taller than Kylie. So much so, she had to tilt back her head to meet my eyes. I loved smaller women, but they couldn’t be breakable. If they were too fragile, they couldn’t take the rough manhandling I preferred. I had specific needs, most of which required a partner who wouldn’t crack under stress. After putting her through the motions, Kylie passed the test with flying colors.
I had to smother a groan at the memory of pinning Kylie down, making her stay still as I pleasured her. I shook off the images and refocused on Kylie, who continued to peer up from under those impossibly long lashes. She had no idea how sexy she was, innocence and seduction in one irresistible package. The material covering my groin tightened and my gaze dropped to Kylie’s amazing mouth, full and thick and painted an alluring shade of red. I thought about how those lips tasted, and how I would love to taste them again, currently painted the color of fresh strawberries. Then I pictured those same lips stretched wide around my dick.
We never did get around to that.
That would be… I practically shuddered. There were no words to describe Kylie’s mouth. My cock strained for release, letting me know its demands.
Ignoring the hard prick poking at my slacks, I gave a casual shrug and hoped I acted as if I wasn’t fighting a rock hard boner.
“First, it’s called a sweater. Only Americans say jersey, which is wrong.” She narrowed her eyes as I continued. “Second, I figured you could use a few pointers, you know?”
“Jersey, sweater, whatever,” Kylie said with a wave of her hand, and a bit of the boldness I first encountered on the patio returned. She met my stare, looking unamused. “You think I need pointers?” she asked, her tone flat. I grinned.
Feisty. I liked that.
“Yeah. Clearly you need help, you know, like making sure you don’t embarrass yourself by wearing the sweater of a less than awesome player. Which, for your information, is anyone but me.” I tossed her a wink.
Kylie’s brow pinched adorably and she stammered. “Wait, what? Y-you… you… ugh!” Frustrated, she stomped her foot.
Luckily, I caught the subtle upward curve at the corner of her mouth. That one tiny gesture let me know I was golden. I wondered if it would be too much to pump my fists and let out a whoop. Probably. Kylie giggled, and the lightness in her voice sounded amazing. I was enthralled… until she finished her thought.
“You’re kind of a pompous ass.”
Right.
“So I’ve been told.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away and didn’t care Kylie called me out. I am a pompous ass. My easy acquiescence made her smile and the action lit up her face. She shone so bright it was as if the dark skies turned sunny, a beam cutting through the clouds to spotlight her smile. My dick gave another restless twitch, reminding me that Kylie was smoking hot and a wildcat in bed. On top of that, she proved she was fun to talk to, and most important, stood within reach. My fingers itched to touch again.
“Hmmm.”
When she didn’t elaborate, I frowned.
“What’s hmmm supposed to mean?” I asked, then winced at my whiney tone. Yeah, that came out sounding kind of pathetic.
Kylie’s smile grew wider and she shook her head.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Just remember, if you were wearing your new sweater right now, you wouldn’t be freezing and therefore, wouldn’t need me to rescue you from hypothermia.” At least I didn’t stomp my foot, though I might have thought about it.
Kylie raised a perfectly arched brow. “But if I was wearing the jersey you so kindly gifted me with, I wouldn’t get the chance to experience such unexpected chivalry from the man they call The Sinner.” She raised a hand and oh fuck, the little minx skimmed her hand down her chest, fingering the plackets of my coat while simultaneously biting that sexy lip. I had no doubt she knew exactly what she was doing, a reminder of when she bit that lip as I spanked her pert ass. “Thanks for the jacket, by the way… Seb.”
Holy shit. I was ready to give her whatever the fuck she wanted as long as she kept talking. My mind already categorized Kylie’s raspy voice as pure sex. Toss in her seductive flirting, and it only made it worse. I wanted to hear her shout my name again and again as I shoved my cock deep inside her. She was taunting me. Trying to get a reaction. And fuck, she got one all right, only I don’t think yanking down my fly and pulling out my cock was the reaction Kylie was going for.
I should only
be so lucky.
“Uhh,” I cleared my throat. “You’re welcome,” I eventually choked out.
During the course of our conversation, we drifted closer. By the time I noticed, our hips were nearly touching, as were our arms.
I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Knowing how Kylie felt, meant I couldn’t to keep my hands to myself. I lightly touched the sleeve of my jacket, wishing to god it was her bare skin.
“I’d like to see you again, but you left before I could get your number.” At my admission, Kylie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. I hated having to ask for her number, but her surprise amused me. “What? Why wouldn’t I want to call you? I mean, I did give you a gift and all. After what we did last week, we’re practically dating.”
What the actual fuck? Why did I say that?
Kylie sputtered, then smothered a laugh. “We are definitely not dating.”
“Once you give me your phone number, and I call you, we’ll get together again. Then we’ll be dating.” I shot her a confident grin.
Date? I don’t date. What the hell are you doing, St. Clair, you dumbshit? Fuck the date. Ask her to come home with you right now.
It was too late. I already started down an unknown path and there was no way I was pulling a U-turn and ruining my chances. More than anything, more than the Stanley Cup, I wanted Kylie naked and chained to my bed, properly this time, and was damn determined to get it, no matter the cost. If it meant pretending we were going to date, promising fucking flowers and dinner and all that romantic shit, then that’s exactly what I’d do. Didn’t matter, as long I got to be with her again. For whatever reason, my gut told me if I pressed for sex, even if she accepted, it would be the last time. After that, I’d never see her again. And god, did I want to see her again.
“Why on earth would I give you my number?”
I shifted until I pressed against Kylie from shoulder to hip. Still touching my jacket, I slid my hand up and down, the lapel between my thumb and fingers, and gave a gentle tug.
“You’re already wearing my clothes. I’ve seen you naked. You’ve seen me naked. We both enjoyed it. Why not do it again?”
I bent down until our eyes were level, my mouth so close to those tempting lips I struggled not to close the distance, pin her hands behind her back, and devour every last one of her moans. I maintained eye contact, and caught the exact second the wary look in Kylie’s eyes changed to something much more promising.
“Give me your phone,” she instructed, her eyelids at half-mast and her sexy rasp even deeper than before.
The dichotomy between vixen and ingénue, naive girl and temptress, feisty and nervous, fascinated me. Yes, I wanted to have sex with her again, but more than that, I wanted to know what made Kylie tick. A first for me, I admit.
I pulled the brand-new device from my pocket and prayed it wouldn’t spontaneously combust in my hand. Without pulling away from her eyes, I offered it to her. Our icy fingers grazed and this time I was the one to shiver and fuck, I one hundred percent knew it wasn’t from the temperature. It was cold outside, but there wasn’t a single part of my body that wasn’t on fire—burning and smoldering as white-hot flames licked their way up and down my spine. My insides scorched to ash and my nerves pulsed with electrical charges, ready to detonate. The sensation was eerily similar to the pressure of the uncontrollable, heated rage that would push outward when my temper flared, only it was… different. Before I could overthink it, Kylie handed back the phone, thankfully unexploded.
“What did you put your number under?” I asked as I scrolled down the contact list. Messing with the device was risky. My tendency to ruin anything electronic meant there was a chance I could lose her number simply by screwing around with the damn thing. But curiosity won out. I wanted to know Kylie’s last name and more than that, needed to know how to find her. With her teasing behavior, the way she easily tossed every one of my smartass remarks right back at me without missing a beat, the way she ducked out on me at the hotel, I figured whatever Kylie put her number under would be totally unexpected.
She didn’t disappoint.
Kylie grinned and I just about incinerated from the flirtatious spark in her chestnut eyes. She was a study in contrasts—brave one moment, shy the next, then a screeching, clawing banshee as she came on my cock. I loved not knowing what to expect. Kylie took a confident step toward me and became the pursuer instead of the pursued. She crowded my space until my lower back pressed against the rail. My cock jerked again and I honestly feared I would bust a nut right then and there.
Oh god.
Bold as fuck, Kylie reached out and drew her index finger down the front of my dress shirt, stopping right above my belt buckle. I hissed and held my breath. No way could she miss the obscene tent formed as my cock pounded against my fly, all but begging to be released from its cloth prison. My eyes drifted shut and I concentrated on not shooting my load.
“I put it under N.”
“N? Why? What for?” I felt giddy. Almost, drunk.
Kylie moved closer until we touched. I groaned, only half paying attention to the conversation. How could I with her spectacular body pressed against me, the soft curves of her breasts flattened against my pecs? I couldn’t hold back the sounds of pleasure that rumbled out of me. Eyes still squeezed shut, I felt her hot breath gust across my ear and damn if I didn’t shiver again. I vibrated with sexual tension while blistering heat shot straight to my groin. It gathered and grew in my tight, aching balls.
“For Not A St. Clair Fan, of course.”
So damn sexy—Wait? What?
By the time my eyes flew open, Kylie was gone.
A slow grin spread across my face. The sexy little vixen was going to pay for that, but fuck it was so goddamn hot. I pressed the heel of my hand on my raging hard on and grimaced. I would have to do something about it, and soon.
I scrubbed my hands down my face. Saint ciboire. Kylie was sexier than I could ever imagine. Even more than both my memories and my fantasies, and I spent a lot of time fantasizing about her, in many, many dirty, nasty, filthy, and depraved ways.
What could I say? I was The Sinner after all.
Kylie threw down the gauntlet, one my darker side couldn’t wait to scoop up. I hoped she had something to hold onto, because this ride was about to get real bumpy.
7
Kylie
“What the hell was with you tonight?”
Rocco’s brusque tone, amplified times ten inside the confines of the SUV, hurt my ears. Already annoyed with him for the way he acted the week leading up to tonight’s dinner, his booming accusation made my hackles rise. In fact, I nearly bit my tongue in half stifling the urge to yell back.
I should have expected his wrath. Rocco acted like a gigantic ass all evening. Truthfully, we’d been arguing on and off since the day they announced his annual team dinner, something they did in DC did every year as well. In the past, I accompanied Rocco as his date, and figured this year would be no different. Rocco, naturally, being the Neanderthal that he is, ordered me to stay home. He may as well have set fire to a dumpster, then tossed a container of gasoline on top. History proved, forbidding me to do something tended to have the opposite effect. That meant come hell or high water, I was going to get my way and go to the damn dinner whether he liked it or not.
Rocco spent a week arguing, manipulating, and pouting his way into unsuccessfully forcing me to change my mind. He’d never say it out loud, but I knew the one and only reason he didn’t want me there was the inevitable presence of Sebastien St. Clair.
Which was exactly why I wanted to go.
After the I had an amazing time on the patio, absorbing the revelations brought by my conversation with a shockingly charming Seb, I didn’t regret the decision. Yes, I tempted fate by willingly putting myself in the same room as both Rocco and Seb, but then again, Rocco had been a total jerk about it. Not that his worries were without merit. No, my brother’s instincts about Seb being bad for me were right on
the money. But he didn’t know that. With Rocco completely in the dark about my clandestine hook up with Seb, his dictatorial stance was completely out of line.
Why should I miss out on an evening of fun simply because the mere thought of Seb and I sharing space sent Rocco’s protective streak into hyperdrive?
Rocco was right, of course. I shouldn’t have gone. If I had been thinking with my brain instead of my hormones, I’d have agreed to stay home. Rocco was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. There had been a fairly high chance he would catch Seb trying to talk to me, and if that had happened, Rocco would have noticed the familiarity between us, then all hell would have broken loose. Blind luck was the only reason Seb and I walked out of the restaurant intact.
I shivered at the thought of Rocco knowing I had literally been in bed with the enemy. Yet my desire to see Seb was worth the risk. Was it dangerous? Yes. Stupid? Definitely. Did I still do it? Pfft, please. Of course I did.
Rocco wasn’t the only one to inherit the Calloway stubborn gene.
That didn't mean Rocco was happy about it. We fought before we left the condo, which ended up working in my favor. He held a grudge like no other and avoided me the duration of the dinner. That was fine by me. It meant Rocco didn't notice when I slipped outside, or when Seb followed.
The sound of Rocco blowing air out of his nostrils like a bull ready to charge, tore me from my thoughts. I glanced across the console to find him tense and stiff, hands gripping the poor steering wheel so hard it looked like he believed that if he were to relax even a single muscle, three tons of SUV would go flying off the road. Every last one of Rocco’s knuckles was white as a sheet. Frankly, I was surprised the wheel hadn't bent under the pressure. Rocco had huge hands and the strength to match.
And he was still pissed.
Having nothing positive to say, I returned to staring blankly out the front window. A few minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rocco glance in my direction. Still angry, I wanted to bask in my righteous fury a little while longer, but when I shifted to get a better look at his face, my heart tripped. He looked nothing like my loving brother. Instead, Rocco's handsome features were twisted into a disapproving scowl.