Sinner (Shelter Harbor #1)

by Aubrey Irons

  Because I’ve already let the devil inside. I’ve already sinned in my heart even being here.

  The place is dim, the lights off except the glowing Christmas lights behind the bar. Some sort of slow blues song grooves over the stereo from the neon jukebox in the corner as I step inside, the door shutting behind me.

  “We’re closed.”

  His back is to me, sitting at the bar with a pile of receipts, a calculator and a pen, and a beer.

  I open my mouth to say something, but the words don’t come.

  There’s still time to run away.

  There’s still time to flee, and run as fast as I can to the nearest church and repent for my wicked, wicked thoughts.

  My lies, my impurity in the eyes of God, and my lustful desires.

  My temptations of the flesh.

  But then he turns, and there’s no running away then.

  Rowan gives me a funny look. “You are not the belligerent drunk I was sort of hoping I’d get to throw out of here.”

  I shake my head. “No,” I say quietly.

  He arches a brow at me, looking past me as if confirming that I — Evangeline Ellis, preacher’s daughter — am actually at a dive bar, alone, at midnight.

  “If you’re looking for Dad’s Congregationalist church, you definitely pulled a wrong turn somewhere.”

  I shrug, hoping it’s casual — knowing it’s probably not.

  “What, it’s so weird that I’m here?”

  He grins. “Uh, yes.”

  “I just wanted to get a drink.”

  He snorts, sliding off his stool and grabbing his beer before he pads towards me.

  “Really.”

  “Yes,” I say stiffly

  “Well we’re closed.”

  I bite my lip, swallowing the lump in my throat as he approaches.

  “Shouldn’t you be at Bible study with Chastity?”

  “You still think you know me so well.”

  “Not as much as I want to.”

  I blush, forcing the heat down. “So, can I get that drink?”

  “I told you we were closed.” He grins, taking a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving mine.

  Drinking me in deeper than that drink in his hands.

  “Lock the door.”

  “What?” My voice cracks as the word tumbles out and I immediately cringe.

  “The door,” he nods as he turns and walks back to the bar, “just make sure it’s locked so we don’t get any drunk assholes stumbling in.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Of course, “right.” What else would I possibly be thinking he meant by “lock the door”?

  I turn, sliding the deadbolt shut before turning, taking a deep breath, and stepping towards the bar.

  “Pull up a stool.”

  I grin as I slide onto the stool, pausing only long enough to realize this is actually the first bar I’ve ever sat at.

  “My father would have an attack if he saw me here.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure he’d just attack me.”

  I grin as Rowan steps behind the bar. “So, we going to stick to tequila?”

  “Maybe just a beer?”

  “You got it.”

  I look around the place as he pours from the tap, glancing at the walls of the place, festooned with signs and memorabilia for the Red Sox and the Patriots.

  “That’s five bucks.”

  “Huh?” I whirl back as he slides the beer in front of me. “Oh, um.” I frown, my hand reaching for the purse I know I didn’t bring.

  “Jesus, I’m, kidding. Lighten up, Bible-thumper.”

  “I’m not a Bible-thumper, jerk.” I stick my tongue out at him as I pick up the beer. “Sláinte.”

  Rowan grins. “Well well, look who’s got the steel trap memory! Sláinte.”

  He clinks his bottle to my glass.

  “Well, just goes to prove that I’m a good student.”

  “Or you’ve got a great teacher.”

  I blush crimson, looking down into my beer.

  “That’s why you’re here, right?”

  I freeze before shaking my head. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  I glare up at him, only to see him grinning.

  “Here,” he jerks his head. “Come back here.”

  “What?”

  “Come behind the bar.”

  “Why?”

  He leans forward, his eyes locking on mine flashing something fierce. “Because I’m going to teach you something.”

  I shiver, my eyes darting across his.

  “What,” I say quietly.

  “Come back here and find out.”

  I chew on my lip, playing with the coaster under my beer before I finally nod. “Okay,” I shrug, slipping off the stool. “Fine.”

  He grins, watching me walk around before I dip under the far end and join him.

  “Step into my office.”

  I laugh, but the laugh catches as he moves closer.

  “I’m going to teach you something now.”

  I take a shaky breath, glancing up at him. “Oh?”

  “Mhmm.”

  He steps closer and leans closer. “Something you’re going to love.”

  My breath is coming faster, hitching in my throat. And he’s so close — so close that we’re almost touching.

  “And what’s that?”

  “Trust me,” he whispers in my ear.

  I nod, my heart pounding.

  Rowan reaches past me, his arm brushing mine, before he suddenly pulls it back.

  I frown. “What’s that?”

  He grins. “This is Orange Curacao.” He holds up his other hand. “This is a lime.” He places them both on the bar and reaches past me again.

  “And this is tequila.”

  I stare at him and his grin only widens. “Beer isn’t your drink. We’re going to make a better one.”

  He teased me, and he knows it. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

  “Stand here.”

  I nod, taking my place facing the bar with him behind me. Step by step, he shows me how to pour, how to count the seconds, how to squeeze the lime, his finger lacing over mine. A squirt gets in my eye, and I laugh, almost dropping the whole thing as his rumbling laugh comes from behind me.

  “I gotcha.”

  A hand holding a bar napkin dabs at my squinting face.

  “All right, now ice.”

  I fill the shaker with ice.

  “Cap it. Good, now shake.”

  I make a face as I attempt the most awkward shake of the can ever, mostly just moving it back and forth across the bar top.

  “Whoa, yeah, no.”

  I turn. “What?”

  “’What’ is you look like you’re jerking a…never mind.”

  He grins. “Here.” He takes the shaker from my hand and raises it with one hand above his head.

  “Like this.”

  His forearm ripples, bicep flexing as he shakes the drink vigorously, the ice ratcheting back and forth inside the metal shaker.

  His eyes never leave mine.

  He grabs a glass, squeezes the rest of the lime around the edge, and dips it in a tray.

  “Sugar?”

  “Salt.”

  I scrunch up my face.

  “Trust me,” his voice husks in my ear again.

  The drink fills the glass with greenish golden liquid and I smile as he slides it my way.

  “Viola. Margarita. Go ahead.”

  “Just drink it?”

  “Hey, you made it. See if you’re any good.”

  I roll my eyes as I pick up the glass and eye the salt warily.

  “Just try it.”

  I slowly bring it to my lips and…

  Whoa.

  WOAH.

  “Okay, that is delicious.”

  He grins. “Good job.”

  “Sláinte,” I clink my class to his beer.

  He laughs. “Guess you’re a good learner.”

  “Guess you
’re a good teacher.”

  We both freeze and he grins. “And we’re back to that.”

  “What,” I say, quickly, looking away and taking a sip.

  “You know what.”

  I say nothing.

  “It’s why you’re here.”

  I turn back to him, my lips pursed together. “It was raining outside, and I was just walking by and wanted to get a drink.”

  “So you keep saying. And here I was thinking The Bible says you’re supposed to tell the truth.”

  “Have you ever read The Bible?”

  “Not really.”

  “Wow, shocking revelat-”

  I gasp as he spins me around.

  “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here, Eva.”

  I take a large gulp of my margarita, eyeing him. “Because I was thinking.”

  “Yes.”

  I lick my lip, tasting the salt as I glance back at him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night, about…you know.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  I take shaky breath. “About teaching me.”

  “We’re talking about more than cocktails, right?”

  I blush, quickly looking at the floor.

  I nod.

  “I have a fiancé.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “I do,” I snap.

  He rolls his eyes.

  “But, he’s…you know, he’s older.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And he’s been married before.”

  “The scandal.”

  I resist the urge to glare at him.

  “Is there a point to this, princess?”

  “I was hoping you could catch me up,” I blurt out.

  He’s silent for a minute, but I can’t make myself look up to meet his eye.

  “Catch you up.”

  “Yeah, you know.” I finally glance up, immediately regretting it as his eyes lock onto mine and hold them.

  “I thought that’s what we were doing with these wonderful little Q and A sessions.”

  “I think we’ve moved past questions,” I say softly, blinking as my eyes search his. I can feel my face burning hot with the alcohol, the nearness of him, and the nakedness of the words I’m saying.

  I shiver as his hand comes up, fingers brushing mine as he pulls the glass from my hands and sets it on the bar.

  “No more questions, hmm?” he growls. “I suppose I could move to a more hands on approach to our lessons.”

  I take a shaky breath as his fingers brush my chin, teasing over my jaw as he tilts my head up. “So where’d we leave off last time.”

  I swallow.

  God, I’m doing this. I’m really here, and really about to do…this, with this man. And I can’t tell if the fact that I’m so excited about this makes it more or less wrong.

  My body betrays me, shivering at his touch, coming alive under his fingers. My breath catches as the heat blooms between my thighs, wickedly.

  Sinfully.

  Rowan moves closer, so close I can feel the heat of his breath across my lips. My chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

  “Kissing,” I whisper heatedly. “I think we left off with ki-”

  I whimper as he steals the words from my lips, crushing his to mine. He growls into me, his hand cupping my jaw as the other drops to my waist. He pulls me tight against him, and I whimper as I open my lips for his tongue.

  “Put your hands on me,” he murmurs into my lips as he pulls back.

  I blush, realizing I’ve just been standing there.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  “Something tells me you’re going to be a fast learner,” he growls before kissing me hard again. I moan, letting my hands slide over his arms, up his biceps, feeling the heat of his skin.

  I gasp as I feel him pushing me back, my back against the side of the bar as his body molds to mine. His lips, his tongue, his hands, all of them like sensory overload.

  His mouth drops to my neck, his hand on my waist starts to pull at my shirt, pulling it from the waist of my skirt.

  Oh God. Oh God.

  Fingers trip over exposed skin, making me shiver and kiss him harder as his firm hands grip my now naked skin. His hand moves higher, and I know I should be swatting him away, or saying no, or running from the place, but I know there’s no way I’m doing that now.

  There’s no way I want to do that now, because I want this.

  I want this wickedness.

  I want to know what it feels like to sin tonight, and I want to feel it with him.

  His hand drops from my chin, moving to my shirt. He pulls at the top button of my blouse, and I shiver. He pops another one, and I kiss him harder

  Hands move over my bra, my heart pounding so hard he must be able to feel it. He groans and moves against me, and I can feel the heat spike inside of me at the feel of his thickness pressing into my thigh.

  Rowan opens my shirt all the way, his lips on my neck. I’m panting, pulling at his t-shirt, but he chuckles into my skin as he slowly pushes my hands away.

  “Patience, angel,” he rasps into my ear.

  His hand skims down over my bare belly, making me shiver. He slips lower, down over the front of my skirt, and my eyes flutter shut — breath panting, wanting this.

  He pulls the skirt higher, and his hand moves between my legs.

  “We can stop anytime you want,” he whispers.

  I shake my head side to side.

  Fingers find my panties, and I gasp, my eyes going wide as I feel him touch me there.

  “Fuck, Eva,” he groans into my ear.

  “Sorry, I- I don’t own anything, like, sexy or anything,” I mumble.

  He pulls back, looking right into my eyes. “Does it look like I give a fuck about that?”

  I bite my lips, and I’m shaking my head when his finger traces over my seam.

  My eyes shut as I moan.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper.

  “If you think that’s good…” he murmurs. His fingers reach the edge of my cotton panties, pulling them down.

  Lower.

  And lower.

  My pulse roars in my ears, as he skims them off my hips, pushing them lower with one hand until they’re halfway down my thigh.

  “Then you’re going to love this.” His hand cups me there between my legs, and I whimper into his neck. A finger slips between and slowly, he pushes in.

  My world blurs.

  His finger strokes me, pushing slowly in and out, and I’m so wet I think there must be something wrong with me.

  There is. I’m standing in Rowan Hammond’s dive bar with my panties pulled down and his hand between my legs. I think that might be the definition of “something wrong with me.”

  He’s moving slowly, deliberately, again and again. He adds a second finger, moving in and out of me, his palm against my clit. I’m clinging to his shirt, kissing him fiercely, letting my tongue dance with his as he pushes me higher to places I’ve never felt before.

  I’m rocking my hips against his hand, shameless, wantonly.

  Wanting this.

  It’s so wrong, but God help me, I want it.

  “Rowan,” I gasp “I-”

  “Next lesson,” he growls into my ear.

  “What?” I manage to pant, clinging to the last edges of my reality as I feel myself start to tumble.

  He sucks my earlobe between his teeth. “I want this sweet little pussy to come for me.”

  I start to explode.

  It’s that fast. It’s the filthiness of his words, the crassness.

  The dirtiness of it.

  The fact that I’m standing in a dark dive bar with my cotton panties around my knees, my skirt pulled up, my blouse open, and the most wicked man I know with his fingers inside of me.

  And he’s about to make me come harder than I ever have before.

  “I-”

  “Come, now.”

  I scream into his kiss as the orgasm rocks through me,
my head spinning, the room whirling, and my knees going weak. He’s catching me, holding me, pulling me closer.

  His hand stays between my legs.

  “Class adjourned,” he murmurs into my ear.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rowan

  Eva’s head drops back as she sags against me, her long blonde hair a tangled mess across her face and shoulders and her eyes squeezed shut.

  Holy fuck.

  Her small hands grab at my shirt as she swallows, her chest rising and falling as I slowly stroke her through the aftershocks.

  The aftershocks from making her come; hard.

  There’s a dark, twisted thought that I maybe have just given this girl the first orgasm from a man ever — the first time she’s come with fingers other than her own.

  I don’t know what it is that’s so hot about that thought, but it’s got me breathing fire. It’s got me harder than stone.

  I don’t pull my hand away from her. I don’t want to stop touching her, ever.

  Hell, I just want more.

  I want to slide my fingers back into her center. I want to pull them out and lick them clean. I want to get on my knees, grab her ass, slip one of her legs over my shoulders and taste her sweet, untouched pussy and make her come all over again on my tongue.

  I want her on her knees, praying in front of me, her lips around my cock.

  And I want to bend her over the bar and just fuck the pure and sweetness right out of her.

  Something tells me making her come on my fingers is about as much “new” as Eva can process tonight, though. Reluctantly, I pull my hand from between her legs.

  Her eyes open, and there’s something fierce in them.

  They’re different. They’re…open.

  I grin.

  They know sin now, that’s what that look is.

  From me.

  She swallows again, and as the redness blooms back into her cheeks, I can see that wildness leaving her eyes again. And then she’s back — worried, timid, pure.

  The Eva from before.

  “I- I should go.”

  “You didn’t even finish your drink,” I say with a grin.

  She bites her lips, that wildness coming back into her eyes for just a fleeting second.

  “It stopped raining, I should go.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  She looks at me. “Yes, I do.” She blushes again as she reaches down and quickly pulls her panties back up under her skirt.

  Jesus, those white cotton, totally not sexy and yet entirely sexy panties with the matching plain white bra — like every filthy Catholic uniform fantasy every guy has ever had.