Richer Than Sin

by March, Meghan

  For some reason, that puts me over the edge.

  “Okay, then take me home.”

  Lincoln turns to face me. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t do this. Not here. Not anywhere so fucking perfect. You don’t get it!”

  “Get what, Whitney?”

  I spin to face him. “You don’t get what it’s like to never be able to do anything right! For everything you try to fix to go horribly wrong instead. I came home because Cricket begged me and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. But instead of making her wedding dreams come true, I’ve made everything worse. I’m a fuckup. A joke. The goddamned black widow who killed someone by trying to divorce him!”

  Tears stream down my face, and I don’t care if I sound completely and utterly hysterical.

  “Right now, I can’t be rational. I can’t be reasonable. And I can’t keep having your perfect fucking life shoved in my face to show me just how screwed up mine is!”

  Instead of backing out of the driveway, Lincoln kills the engine, unbuckles his seat belt, and opens his door.

  “Take me home,” I tell him, my voice creeping toward shrill.

  He doesn’t listen. He rounds the hood and opens the passenger door.

  I slap at his hands as he unbuckles my seat belt. “I want to go home! You said you’d take me home.”

  But he doesn’t stop. He lifts me out of the SUV and carries me toward his perfect freaking house while I beat on his shoulders. Then he puts me down right in front of the door.

  “Shut up for two fucking seconds and listen to what I have to say.” He points at the glass, and I can see straight through to the darkness on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling windows that must make up the back of the house. “You see that?”

  “What do you want me to see? It’s a perfect fucking house to go with your perfect fucking life!”

  “Wrong. It’s just a goddamned house. It has no meaning beyond walls and windows and doors. There’s no laughter. No family. No love. Only wood and glass and rock that means absolutely fucking nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

  I blink twice as I try to comprehend the point he’s making.

  “You think your life is so fucking screwed up? Try having everything you could ever want but never being happy. Never having someone you can trust to love and share it with. You think my life is so fucking perfect? Well, it’s not, Whitney. Perfection walked out of my life the day you married another man.”

  We stand in front of each other, our chests heaving, and my tears fall harder.

  “So I ruined your life too?” I snuffle in a sob, and I’m close to full-on bawling.

  49

  Lincoln

  I swear to God, no matter what I say to this woman, I’m destined to fuck it up.

  “No. Fuck no.” I wrap my arms around her and yank her into my chest, letting her tears soak my shirt. “I did that all by myself.”

  “Then—”

  She sniffles, and I hug her harder.

  “What I meant is that just because something looks perfect from the outside doesn’t mean it is, and the things that look like a complete disaster are sometimes better than we could ever imagine.” I pull back, and she lifts her chin to meet my gaze. Her blue eyes shine with tears, and just like it always has, it guts me to see her cry.

  “We’ve always thrived in the middle of chaos. In the middle of adversity. That’s where you and I excel. All you have to do is give me another chance, and we can make this work. I swear to you we can.”

  “How can you think it would end any differently than in some kind of fiery disaster, with us running in opposite directions, and the world burning down around our ears?”

  I cup her chin and stare into her eyes. “Because this time I’m not giving up. Because with you and me against the world, we can’t lose.”

  When my lips touch hers, everything else falls away, and the Whitney I remember comes to life in my arms.

  I fumble for my door handle, thankful that my thumbprint opens it, and I pull her inside and pin her against the door.

  Whitney claws at my shoulders even as she says against my lips, “We shouldn’t do this. This is a terrible idea. I’m cursed. I swear I am.”

  “Shut up, Blue. I’m a hell of a lot more worried about you kissing me than cursing me.”

  I lift her into my arms and carry her to my bed. The bed where I’ve never had another woman. The bed where I’ve only ever wanted this woman.

  I’ve waited years for another chance. I’m not going to fuck it up.

  Not this time.

  50

  Whitney

  I know it’s a bad idea. I know that I should stick to my guns and make him take me home, but sometimes, after life shovels so much shit in your direction, you just want one good thing.

  Lincoln’s always been paradise and disaster wrapped in a beautiful package I can’t resist. Tonight, I’m willing to do anything to have one more chance to taste paradise. The rest of the world can wait until tomorrow.

  Tonight is ours.

  As he carries me into his bedroom, I don’t bother to look at the house. It doesn’t matter. He’s right. It’s only walls and windows and doors. None of it means anything. I know all about living a life that looked perfect from the outside, but was completely hollow.

  The only thing that matters is Lincoln and me, and shutting up the voices in my head that won’t let me forget how much of a failure I am.

  When he lays me down on the smooth coverlet, the voices finally go silent. The only thing left in my brain is Lincoln.

  “I’ve waited ten years for this moment. I’m going to take my time.”

  My entire body shivers as he reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing a stomach that’s still flat and hard. His rounded pecs and shoulders seem even broader and thicker than I remember, but his eyes are still the same. The hazel flashes with heat as he stares down at me before coming toward the bed, his jeans still on. He kneels between my legs and kisses me like he’d die if he had to wait another moment to taste my lips. The same way he always kissed me.

  My body heats as he trails his mouth along my chin, skimming my ear, and then down my throat.

  “Please . . .” I don’t even know what I want, but I’m already begging for whatever he’ll give me.

  “Shhh. Let me explore.”

  The strap of my tank slides down my shoulder, and he covers every inch of my bare skin with his lips, tasting, teasing, and testing my control.

  I lose myself in him, in the feel of his skin, in the scent that’s new but somehow familiar all at the same time.

  He peels my tank down my body to reveal my hard nipples straining against the sheer lace of my bra. I may not have left LA with much, but I did bring all my nice underwear, and for the first time, I thank my lucky stars for that.

  Lincoln sucks in a breath. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

  He skims a thumb over the bud of my nipple, and I arch toward him.

  “You want my lips here?”

  “Yes.”

  He replaces his thumb with his mouth and sucks the hardened tip inside.

  Heat dumps into my veins as he scrapes it along his teeth. I lift my hips, needing pressure. Lincoln knows what I want, and his free hand slides between us to cup me between my legs.

  I buck against his hand, wishing my clothes were already off. “More.”

  He lifts his head from my breast. “Greedy girl.”

  Lincoln doesn’t realize that I’m only this way for him. Never for anyone else. Maybe someday I’ll tell him that, but tonight, I just want to revel in the things only he can make me feel.

  He moves his hand to tug at the button of my shorts. He stands to pull them off, and I shimmy to help them along.

  Lincoln stands above me, the bulge in his jeans impossible to miss as he stares down at my body like he’s cataloging every inch.

  Insecurities about how much my body has changed cree
p in, but he banishes them.

  “I don’t know how it’s possible, but you’re even more beautiful than you were before. You were a girl then. Now you’re a goddess, and I’m going to worship you.”

  He kneels on the floor, his head between my legs, and this time his mouth moves over my center. His hot breath teases me through the lace of my panties, and I grip his hair in my hands.

  He drags his fingers along the fabric until my wetness soaks the barrier between us, and he finally pushes it aside. His tongue skims my slick heat, gliding along the edges of my bare lips until I want to scream for him to give me what I need.

  But he already knows what I need. Lincoln closes his mouth over my clit and sucks hard as he pushes a finger inside me.

  Just like that . . . I. Am. Done.

  I buck against his mouth, his name on my lips as I come harder than I have since the last time he touched me. But once isn’t enough. Lincoln’s lips and teeth and tongue destroy me until I’m gasping for air and my throat feels raw. Only then does he rise and move up my body, pressing kisses to my skin as he goes.

  “So fucking sweet,” he whispers.

  I fumble between us for the button on his jeans and shove them over his hips. His cock bobs free, and I wrap my hand around his thick length.

  “Fuck, Blue. Fuck.”

  “Please, Lincoln. Please. I need you.” I’ve always needed him. I always will need him. It’s part of me that will never go away.

  He rolls off the bed and kicks off his jeans and briefs before pulling a condom out of the nightstand. I wonder how many women he’s had here, but I don’t ask. I don’t want to know.

  My thought must be completely transparent, though, because he replies to my unspoken question.

  “Only you. No other woman has ever been in my bed.”

  He rolls on the condom, and when he moves back between my legs, everything feels so perfect.

  Maybe Lincoln is right. Maybe we can do this. Maybe we don’t just have tonight. Maybe we could have forever.

  When he pushes inside me, I forget to care about anything but how he makes me feel.

  51

  Lincoln

  Sliding into Whitney is like coming home. She’s perfection wrapped in thorns, but the reward is so incredible, you’re willing to risk the sting.

  I know I won’t last long in the tight heat of her body, but I will not fucking come until she does one more time. I take my time, savoring every thrust and pump, pretending this could be the last time, even as I tell myself it can’t be.

  Her inner muscles flutter around my cock, telling me she’s close. Her breathy little sighs turn into moans as my balls tighten, and I know I don’t have long.

  When she clamps down on me and screams my name, I let go, unleashing the most intense orgasm I’ve had since her.

  No one can compare to Whitney. Not then. Not ever. And this time, she’s mine for good.

  After we clean up, I wrap my arms around her and hold her for hours before falling asleep. Every moment feels precious when you know what it’s like to lose the person who matters most.

  For some reason, with Whitney, every time we’re together feels like time is always moving too fast. Always running out.

  I fight sleep, not wanting to close my eyes, but I eventually succumb.

  52

  Whitney

  The pillowcase feels like silk against my skin—something I used to be accustomed to, but I’m not anymore and never will be again. My eyes flick open and I look around. One wall is completely glass, and the view beyond it is absolutely breathtaking.

  Outside, dark gray walls of rock are topped with tall pines and cedars. At the base of the gorge, the river rushes over rapids, and the sight is so incredible, I swear I can hear the churning water.

  Where the hell am I?

  I look down and realize I’m naked. The ache between my thighs reminds me of exactly what happened last night.

  A glance at the pillow beside the one I woke up on tells me that I didn’t imagine falling asleep wrapped in Lincoln’s arms.

  That was real. Everything was real.

  For a moment, I wonder if he left me here, but I know he hasn’t.

  I can’t be within a hundred yards of Lincoln Riscoff and not feel his presence. It’s something visceral I’ve never been able to shake. He’s been in my blood from that first night, and I’ve never been able to get him out.

  I spy my tank and shorts on the floor and snatch them up. Dropping the sheet, I dress before padding toward the window to stare for long moments.

  It’s the most awe-inspiring sight I’ve ever seen. Even the view from The Gables can’t top it. It’s so perfectly Lincoln.

  The rushing water of the river also reminds me of what day it is.

  How has it been ten years?

  53

  Whitney

  The past

  The pounding wouldn’t stop, and even the pillow over my head couldn’t drown it out. I jumped out of bed and hurried down the stairs, expecting to see my dad out front without his keys.

  But when I opened the door, I was absolutely wrong.

  Jackie’s face was haggard as she stood in front of the door, soaked from the rain. Lincoln was behind her, his phone to his ear.

  Who is he calling? Me? But he didn’t hang up immediately.

  “What the hell is going on?” I asked, and my aunt wrapped her fingers around my wrist and tugged me toward her.

  “You need to come with me, Whit. Right now. We have to go to the hospital.”

  My stomach twisted into an unholy knot as she pulled me outside. The wind whipped my black hair in every direction as the rain pelted my thin shirt. My gaze cut back to Lincoln as his expression turned into a mask of horror.

  “What happened? Someone tell me. Now.”

  Jackie’s head bowed and she hauled in a ragged breath. Lincoln lowered the phone, his face pale, and he seemed almost frozen in shock.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered, and my heart thundered, spurred on by fear.

  “Please, tell me.”

  My aunt yanked me against her chest and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Whit. There’s been a terrible accident. We have to go to the hospital now.”

  Tremors racked my body as she pulled back. “What happened?” My plea came out raw and ragged, but Jackie looked at Lincoln.

  “They told you?”

  He nodded, lifting a hand to his face. “Yeah.” His voice sounded as hoarse as mine. “I’ll follow you to the hospital.”

  His hazel gaze dragged over my face, and his shattered expression shredded me.

  “What happened?” I screamed the question.

  Lincoln swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Whitney.”

  54

  Lincoln

  Present day

  “Pretty awesome view, isn’t it?”

  I stand in the doorway of my bedroom, holding a cup of coffee as I watch Whitney stare out the window. She turns to face me, her expression bleak.

  “I’m so sorry, Lincoln.”

  I already know why she’s sorry, but she shouldn’t be. I move toward her, pausing at the nightstand to leave the coffee I brought for her.

  “Neither of us could’ve stopped what happened that night. It’s been ten years. It’s time to let go of the past. Time to move on. Start over.” I wrap an arm around her, and she curls into my chest. “I think today is the perfect time for a new beginning. What about you?”

  She looks up at me with those big blue eyes and nods. “I think you’re right. It’s time to start over. Leave the past behind us.”

  Thank God. Finally.

  I lower my lips to kiss her forehead and hold her for long moments as we stare out the window together. Today may be a hard day for both of us, but it’s easier with Whitney in my arms. I feel like what I said last night is true.

  With Whitney and me together against the world, we can’t lose.

  Out in the living room, Whitney’s phone rings,
and she pulls back. “My aunt probably wonders what the hell happened to me last night. I told her I’d be coming home late.”

  I follow her into the kitchen, and my phone vibrates on the counter.

  Four missed calls and three texts? In five minutes? What the hell?

  Almost on instinct, my heart rate picks up as I open a text from my sister first.

  McKinley: You need to answer your phone. The shit has hit the fan.

  A text from my lawyer is next.

  Johnson: We have a serious problem.

  From my brother.

  Harrison: I hope you didn’t fuck her again, because she just fucked you even harder.

  “What the hell?” I whisper as I click on the link to the newspaper article Harrison sent. The headline knocks me back on my heels.

  Ricky Rango’s Estate Claims He Was the True Riscoff Heir

  What. The. Fuck.

  I turn and look at Whitney. “What have you done?”

  * * *

  The Sin Trilogy continues in Guilty as Sin and concludes in Reveling in Sin. Both Guilty as Sin and Reveling in Sin are available for preorder by tapping on the titles.

  * * *

  Have you met the Ruthless King of the New Orleans? Keep reading for a glimpse of my dark and dirty alpha, Lachlan Mount, in Ruthless King.

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