Sin for Me

by Jackie Ashenden

  Another silence, even more tense and full of frustration than the last two had been.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, as if that made it all better.

  “Don’t say that.” Her voice was hoarse and she hated the pathetic sound of it. “You can say anything else you like, but please don’t say you’re sorry.”

  He remained crouched in front of her, all that intense heat and coiled strength so close, within touching distance. The scent of him made her mouth water, made her dizzy with want, and it was suddenly all too much. She pushed herself to her feet, needing to get away from him.

  He looked up. “Where are you going?”

  “Like I said, I’m tired. I need to go to bed.”

  “We haven’t finished.”

  “You might not. But I have.” She made as if to go past him, but he was rising out of his crouch in a fluid, graceful movement, the full height of him right front of her, all wide shoulders and broad chest, his powerful arms crossed. A wall of hard muscle blocking her path.

  She tipped her head back to meet his gaze, glaring at him. She was tired, angry, and even a bit humiliated, and she just wanted to be alone. Be done with this and with him. “Get out of my way, Gideon.”

  He didn’t move. “I said, we haven’t finished.”

  There were only inches between them and he was so warm, so close. It wasn’t fair.

  She threw out her hands, wanting to push him away, yet when they landed on the firm plane of his chest, all the strength went out of her arms. The heat of him took her breath away. She looked up, helplessly drawn by that dark gaze. By the desire she couldn’t keep inside her any longer.

  He stared back and she had no idea what he was thinking, no idea how he could stand there was if nothing touched him when she was burning up.

  Afterward, she had no idea why she did it, she only knew that she had to do something.

  So she rose up on her toes and kissed him.

  * * *

  Gideon went utterly still.

  The touch of her mouth was heat, was fire, and seemed to burn every thought he’d ever had straight out of his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed. The last time a woman had reached for him and pressed her lips to his. Oh, there had been plenty of times it had happened, but he simply couldn’t remember any of them.

  There was only this one moment. Zoe’s mouth on his. Sweet and unpracticed, and desperate. And so fucking hot.

  She had no business being so fucking hot.

  It all came crashing back then, what was happening and who she was. Most especially who she was. His little one. His foster sister. Who was kissing him.

  He lifted his hands and took her face between them, pulling her away.

  She was flushed, her eyes even bigger than they normally were, her pupils hugely dilated, and he was excruciatingly conscious of her small palms against his chest, her slender hips against his.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his own voice sounding strange in the deafening silence of the room.

  The color in her cheeks deepened into brilliant blocks of red. “I-I’m s-s-sorry,” she stammered, looking stricken. “I didn’t mean . . . I mean I didn’t think—”

  “No, you didn’t fucking think, did you?” he said roughly, knowing he was being unreasonable, knowing he was frightening her because he could see the fear in her eyes right now. “And you don’t fucking listen either. I told you there couldn’t be anything between us. I told you.” He should be treating this the way he’d been doing before she’d kissed him, with calm restraint, and yet that restraint was nowhere to be found. Instead, anger was catching fire inside him, a deep swelling tide of it, and all he could think was how could she do this to him? How could she change things between them like that? Ruin what they had?

  She’s not ruining things and it’s not anger you’re feeling. You want her.

  No. It couldn’t be that. He wasn’t a goddamn pervert.

  He sucked in a breath, knowing he should let her go, but somehow unable to make his fingers work. They were curled under her jaw and her skin was so soft and so warm. She was trembling.

  “I know,” she said. “I know, I’m sorry, Gideon. I’m really, really sorry.” Tears were welling in her eyes.

  It felt like she’d taken up a sharp knife and had stabbed him with it.

  “You’ve got no idea.” His fingers tightened on her even though he’d meant to release his hold. “You’ve got no goddamn idea what you’re asking for.”

  She blinked, the tears glittering on the ends of her lashes. “I’m not stupid. I have some idea. I followed you once, to Gino’s. And I saw you out back with the waitress.”

  Jesus. He could barely remember. One of Gino’s waitresses . . . That must have been Angel. She’d been into rough sex and so had he, so they’d indulged themselves a couple of times in the alley out behind the bar.

  Shock coiled inside him. She’d seen . . . that?

  “What do you mean you saw me?” he demanded.

  Zoe’s mouth was pink from where she’d kissed him, going all pouty and lush. He couldn’t stop looking at it. “I saw you push her up against the wall and . . . and s-screw her.”

  Great. This was getting better and better. Zoe had watched him have Angel hard up against a wall and . . . well, he hadn’t been gentle, that was for fucking sure. “Why the hell did you do that?”

  “Why do you think?” Her lashes fell. “Just let me go, Gideon. Please.”

  But he couldn’t seem to make himself do it. There was a fire in his blood, burning hot, and whether it was something to do with seeing Novak’s men so close to her at the club, with her being so close to danger, or anger at her for changing things, he didn’t know.

  What he did know was that Zoe wasn’t getting the message.

  She thought he was someone to look up to, someone to have a crush on, someone to be her hero. She thought he was a man who would make love to her tenderly, lovingly, all that kind of shit.

  The silly little virgin had no idea who he really was. If she had she would never have done something so stupid as kiss him.

  Clearly he hadn’t frightened her enough back in her bedroom, which meant that if he wanted to end this, to bring their relationship back where it should be, he needed to drive the message home now.

  “So you watched?” His pulse was suddenly hammering hard in his veins. “Did you get off on it, Zoe? Did you like it?”

  The twin spots of red on her cheeks blazed. “If you’re going to let me go, then let me the hell go!”

  “Did you imagine you were that waitress?” He slid his thumbs along the hot skin of her cheekbones. “Did you wanna be?”

  Her lashes lifted in shock, but he saw the flicker in her gaze and he knew what it meant. Of course she’d watched because she’d gotten off on it. And of course she’d imagined herself as that waitress, being pushed up against a wall and having her brains screwed out.

  But watching was not the same as doing.

  There was only one way to kill that crush of hers and that was to show her she had every reason to be afraid of him. Talking about it hadn’t worked. Perhaps showing her would.

  He took his hands from her face, only to grip her by her upper arms, walking her backward until he’d pushed her up against the nearest living room wall.

  Her mouth dropped open, her pupils dilating even more until there was only a thin rim of gold around the darkness of her eyes. “What are you doing?” Her voice was husky, like the stroke of thick velvet, and he could smell her, innocent lavender and beneath it a deeper, musky, sensual scent. The combination went straight to his head, making him feel almost drunk on it.

  “You wanna know what being the waitress was like?” His own voice had become much rougher and thicker too. “I’ll show you.”

  More shock bloomed in her gaze. “But I thought . . . you said . . .”

  He ignored her. This would be a hard lesson, but life was full of hard lessons. And clearly Zoe needed
a few more. He’d been too easy on her, protected her too well. He didn’t want her afraid of him, but fear kept you safe and if she wasn’t going to listen to what he had to say, then he had to give her something else to be afraid of. Actions always spoke louder than words.

  “When it gets too much for you, tell me when to stop.” He didn’t hesitate, crossing her narrow wrists in one hand and lifting them above her head, pinning them to the wall and keeping them there.

  She gave a soft gasp, her back arching in response, staring at him as if transfixed.

  There was a strange roaring in his ears, like he’d taken a punch to the head, blurring his sight and making him feel dizzy. She smelled unbelievably good, the sensual arch of her body making his breath catch.

  He took a step forward, closing the space between them, staring down into her eyes as he pushed one thigh between hers.

  She made another soft sound, blinking rapidly, and he could feel her pull against his restraining hand. But not very hard. Almost as if she was testing his hold rather than wanting to get away.

  He reached down and took her chin in his free hand, gripping her. “Had enough?” The heat of her pussy against his thigh was insanely distracting, and he found himself pushing harder against her.

  She trembled, light catching the golden satin of her bra beneath the black lace, making it glimmer in time with the rapid rise and fall of her breathing. Her gaze had gone smoky, focusing on his mouth. “No,” she said thickly.

  Little idiot. What was she doing? Didn’t she know that this was all wrong? Everything about this? So fucking wrong.

  In that case, perhaps you should stop.

  No, it was too late for that now. She had to learn what pushing the boundaries of their relationship looked like and what he’d require from her. She wouldn’t like it, that was for certain, and with any luck, she wouldn’t like it enough that she’d never look at him the same way again.

  His stomach dropped at the thought, but he refused to think about what that would mean to him. The most important thing was that she stay away from him, and he was going to have to teach her why.

  He brushed his thumb along her lower lip and, Christ, it was so soft. He pressed down harder, feeling it give, and her gaze lifted to his, her lips parting. There were embers of heat glittering in her eyes and the fear he’d seen earlier that evening had gone. Brat. He needed to get more serious.

  He pushed his thumb into her mouth.

  A choked sound escaped her, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she closed her lips around his thumb and began to suck, keeping her gaze on his as if he was a challenge she wanted to meet personally.

  Holy Christ. The hot pressure of her mouth flipped a switch on inside him, a sharp, electric current coursing straight to his cock.

  “Jesus, Zoe.” The words escaped in a thick rush and he knew he should pull his hand away. But he didn’t. And she didn’t stop.

  Her tongue licked his skin, then she sucked like she was sucking on a lollipop, tilting her hips and rocking against his thigh.

  Clearly she wasn’t scared of him in the slightest, and now his jeans were starting to feel way too tight and the feel of her tongue . . . Shit, no. Letting her lick him and rub herself against him like a cat wasn’t why he was doing this.

  He pulled his thumb away, gliding it over her full red mouth. “Stop,” he ordered. “It wasn’t my thumb Angel was sucking at Gino’s.”

  “That’s not what I saw.”

  “What? You didn’t stick around to see the rest?” He stroked her lower lip again. “Did you get scared, little one?”

  “As if.” A spark glimmered in her eyes and she took a panting breath. “Show me. Show me what you did.”

  You shouldn’t. This is wrong and you know it.

  It was, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop slicking his thumb across her mouth, feeling the softness, the cushiony give of her lower lip, watching the smoky look in her eyes.

  She wasn’t scared like she had been in her bedroom, when he’d told her all the things he’d do to her. She wasn’t even shocked.

  Obviously, he was going to have to take things up a notch.

  Sure, tell yourself you’re only doing it to scare her and not because the thought of her sucking your dick makes you so hard it hurts.

  No, he couldn’t feel that way about her, he couldn’t. Yet all the denial in the world didn’t change the fact that his dick was hard and the thought of putting her on her knees to suck him off made him even harder.

  And that if he was any kind of hero to her, if he was any kind of man, he’d be pulling away, walking straight out of this room, and never going near her again.

  But he wasn’t that kind of man. He never had been. If she wanted a hero, she was looking in the wrong place.

  Gideon let go of her wrists and stepped back. “You wanna see? Then get on your knees.”

  Chapter 8

  Zoe’s heartbeat was like the bass line of some hard-core house music, loud and fast and insistent. And it felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out. She couldn’t breathe, she almost couldn’t stand.

  Gideon stood in front of her, all six foot four of him, massive and muscled and putting out so much heat it was like standing next to a furnace. The horrible sympathy was gone from his face, the gentleness that had felt like it was cutting her in two completely vanished.

  In its place was only hard intent, black and glittering and hungry.

  She’d never been more turned on in her life.

  Finally, it was happening. For whatever reason, he was finally seeing her as she’d wanted him to for so fucking long. As a woman.

  Don’t get too excited. This isn’t about you.

  Yeah, she knew that. He was trying to scare her the way he’d scared her back in her bedroom, only this time it wasn’t only words he was using. And hell, maybe she should let herself be scared, save herself the hurt of knowing he wasn’t in this for her. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  She’d wanted him for too many years, and now that it looked like he was actually going to make good on all those fantasies she’d had, she didn’t want him to stop. Sure, she was scared about it. Scared it wouldn’t be like she’d imagined. Scared she’d screw it up. Scared that it would be too intense and she’d be left even hungrier than she was already.

  But she wasn’t scared enough to stop, not when she was aching as badly as she was now, a deep, relentless throb between her legs. Not with the taste of his skin heavy on her tongue and her mouth burning from where he’d touched it, the skin of her inner thighs sensitized from the denim of his jeans.

  Her fingers were tingling, the blood rushing back into them, and she was acutely conscious of every inch of space that separated her body from his. She didn’t want that space to be there, wanted to step forward and close it, press the soft, aching parts of her against the hard, hot parts of him.

  “Well?” His voice was soft, but the look in his eyes wasn’t. “Too much for you?”

  It kind of was. She’d never blown a guy before, much less the guy who’d starred in all her fantasies since she was old enough to have them. The guy who’d only five minutes ago told her that there was never going to be anything between them.

  So maybe you need to prove him wrong?

  Yeah, she really did. And that was the reason she was still standing there, even though she was afraid. The reason she’d opened her mouth and licked his thumb. Why she was going to do exactly what he’d said. Because if this was the only chance she ever got to prove to him that there could be something between them, if only he’d let her show him, then she was going to take it.

  He wanted to scare her off? He could certainly try. Sure, she might be a virgin, but she had more spine than to be scared off by the mention of a blow job.

  Zoe decided not to answer. Instead, keeping her gaze on his, she did what he asked, sinking shakily to her knees in front of him.

  An expression she couldn’t quite interpret flickered across his fac
e and then was gone. He was even more intimidating from this angle, towering over her, dark and strong and powerful. His eyes were black, full of hot shadows and more secrets than she could ever hope to unravel.

  Her mouth was so dry with desire she didn’t think she could speak even if she’d wanted to. A problem when she didn’t know what to do now. Did he want her to open his jeans? Or did he want her just to kneel here and wait?

  Oh God, she didn’t know if she could handle this. She’d thought about this for so long . . . what if she screwed up? What if he didn’t like it? What if he was only messing with her and didn’t mean any of this?

  Fear coiled like a snake in her gut and she had to fight the urge to get up and leave. Because she knew if she did, this would end. It would be over between them once and for all.

  “Take my dick out.” The words were hard, rough, yet they were the best thing she’d heard all evening. Now she wouldn’t have to say anything. All she’d have to do was do as she was told.

  She lifted her hands to the button of his jeans, her fingers trembling as she brushed the hard, incredibly hot plane of his abdomen, feeling it tense. She glanced up at him, fumbling with the button, wanting to see his face.

  No softness on his rough-hewn features, no tenderness in his black eyes. Only a hard challenge, a dare. He didn’t look away as her gaze met his, as she tried to undo his jeans, and he didn’t help her either.

  Yeah, he was expecting her to pull away. Expecting her to get scared and run. Well, she wasn’t going to be doing that. She was going to show him she could take anything he wanted to give her and more.

  The thought settled her and her fingers firmed as she managed to get the button undone. Then she grabbed the tab of his zipper and slowly drew it down. And as she did so, she suddenly became acutely conscious of the fact that he was hard. Very, very hard.

  The breath escaped her. This was her doing, wasn’t it? Or was it just because she was a woman kneeling in front of him and there was a blow job going to be happening soon?

  What the hell does it matter whether it’s you or not? You’ve been wanting this forever. So take it.