Touching Sin (Vegas Sin Book 1)

by J. Saman

  Here’s the part where I address Fiona technically being married. Some of you might hate me for the ‘cheating’. And all I have to say is, the fucking asshole beat her! He beat her until he nearly killed her! So I think that voids the piece of paper. Voids the legality of it. Because that’s not marriage. That’s not love and Jake loved her. So, I have zero regrets about it. If you hate me because of the technical cheating aspect of this, then so be it and I respect that and I won’t hold it against you. In truth, I don’t normally do that sort of thing.

  I’m writing this way before the book is released and because of that, I have no idea how much money I raised for charity from pre-orders. But if you did buy it as that, thank you! There are woman and children out there who need help. Who need hope and fucking Mia/Fiona was one of them. Money was not her solution, though she technically had oodles of it. Freedom was. A new life was. And if we can help women out there get some of that, then I want to do my part. Have I mentioned I have 3 girls who I hope grow up in a better world than I did? Not that mine was bad, but you get where I’m going with this if you’re a parent/mom.

  Next up: I’m releasing a book in early December that is going to be part of a box set which comes out in January. It’s going to be wide (meaning other retailers than Amazon) This box set is going to be super cheap. 99c for over 20 authors. That means I’m going to release the box set book at 99c and keep it there and when the box set comes out and I have to pull it from resale. I’ll post the second in the series around that time.

  I needed a new team so we’re starting there, but I’m thinking Maddox and Gavin need a story and the Seattle crew isn’t fully asleep yet.

  Okay, last thing, a special shout-out to my transatlantic love, Claire and her family. I named the baby at the end for her husband because I love them so. And to my nursing girls. You crazy ladies gave me this weird brainchild by forcing me into a weekend of fun Vegas style.

  Now I’m done rambling. Thank you! Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for reading my book(s). Thank you for supporting me. You have no idea. I have other books if you find you like me and want to read more and haven’t. Also, keep reading for an excerpt from the first chapter of my next book, The Edge of Temptation.

  XO ~ J. Saman

  Oh, please leave a review! I’m an indie and need all the help I can get.

  * * *

  Other Books By Me:

  Forward

  Love Rewritten

  Start Again

  Start Over

  Start With Me

  Beautiful Potential

  Reckless Love

  * * *

  Website Goodreads

  The Edge of Temptation

  This is NOT edited! Don’t judge or hate because of that. It’s the box set book so have some fun because this book is going for lighthearted. I totally don’t keep that pretense up, because at the end of the day, I’m still me. But hey, it’s still really good and super sexy hot. : )

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  Chapter 1

  * * *

  Halle

  * * *

  “No,” I reply emphatically, hoping my tone is stronger than my disposition. “I’m not doing it. Absolutely not. Just no.” I point my finger for emphasis, but I don’t think the gesture is getting me anywhere. Rina just stares at me, the tip of her finger gliding along the lip of her martini glass.

  “You’re smiling. If you don’t want to do this, then why are you smiling?”

  I sigh. She’s right. I am smiling. But only because it’s just so ridiculous. In all the years she’s known me, I’ve never gone up to a total stranger and hit on them. I don’t think I’d have any idea how to even do that. And honestly, I’m just not in the frame of mind to put in the effort. “It’s funny, that’s all.” I shrug, playing it off. It’s really not funny. The word terrifying comes closer. “But my answer is still no.”

  “It’s been, what?” Margot chimes in, flickering between Rina, Aria and me like she’s actually trying to figure this out. She’s not. I know where she’s going with this and it’s fucking rhetorical. “A month?” See. I told you. “You broke up with Matt a month ago. You can’t even play it off like you’re all upset over it, because we know you’re not.”

  “Who says I’m not upset?” I furrow my eyebrows aiming for incredulous, but I can’t quite meet their eyes. “I was with him for two years.” I’m not upset about Matt. I just don’t have the desire to hit on some random dude at a random bar in the South End of Boston.

  “Two useless years,” Rina persists with a roll of her blue eyes as she takes a sip of her appletini. She sets her glass down, leaning her small frame back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest like she’s pissed off on my behalf. “The guy was a freaking asshole.”

  “And a criminal,” Aria adds, tipping back her fancy glass and finishing off the last of her dirty martini, complete with olive. She chews on it slowly as she quirks a pointed eyebrow at me.

  “All true.” I can’t even deny it. My ex was a black hat hacker. And while that might sound all hot and sexy in a mysterious, dangerous way, it wasn’t. The piece of shit stole credit card numbers and not only used them for himself, but sold them on the dark web. He was also one of those hacktivist who got his rocks off on working with other degenerate assholes to try and bring down various companies and websites.

  In my defense, I didn’t know what he was up to until the FBI came into my place of work, brought me downtown to their office and interviewed me for hours. I was so embarrassed, I could hardly show my face at work again. Not only that, everyone was talking about me. Either with pity or suspicion in their eyes.

  Matt had a regular job as a red team specialist. Those are legit hackers who are paid by companies to come in and try and penetrate their systems. All that time he spent on his computer at night I figured was him working hard to get ahead. At least that was his perpetual excuse when challenged. Nothing makes you feel more naïve then discovering the man you had previously been engaged to is actually a criminal who is stealing from people. And was committing said thefts while living with you.

  I looked one of the people up that the FBI had mentioned. She had a weird name that stuck out to me and when I found her, I saw that she was a widow with three grandchildren, a son in the military and was a recently retired nurse. It made me sick to my stomach. Still does when I think about it.

  I told the FBI everything I knew, which was nothing. I explained that I had ended things with Matt three days prior to them arresting him. It was a coincidence. I was fed up with the monotony of our relationship. Of being engaged and never discussing or planning our wedding. Of being with someone I never ever saw because they were always locked away in their office, too preoccupied with their computer to pay me even an ounce of attention. But really, deep down, I knew I wasn’t in love with him.

  I didn’t even shed a tear over our breakup. In fact, I was more relieved than anything. It felt like I had dodged a bullet getting out when I did.

  And then the FBI showed up.

  “I ended it with him. Before I knew he was a total and complete loser,” I tack on, feeling more defensive about the situation than I care to admit, shifting my weight on my uncomfortable wooden chair.

  “And we applaud you for that,” Rina says, nudging Margot and then Aria in the shoulders, forcing them to concur. “It was the absolute right thing to do. But you’ve been miserable and mopey and very…”

  “Anti-men,” Margot finishes for her, tossing back her lemon drop shot with disturbing exuberance. I think that’s number three for her already, which means it could be a long night. Margot has yet to learn the art of moderation.

  “Right.” Aria nods big at Margot like she just hit the nail on the head, tossing her messy blonde hair over her shoulders before twisting it up into something that resembles a bun. “Anti-men. I’m not saying you need to date anyone here. You don’t even have to go home with them. Just let them buy you a drink. Have a normal conversation wit
h a normal guy.”

  I scoff. “And you think I’ll find one of those in here?” I splay my arms out wide, waving them around. All these men look like players. They’re in groups with other men, smacking at each other and pointing at the various women who walk in. They’re clearly rating them. And if a woman just so happens to pass by, they blatantly turn and stare at her ass. This is a hookup bar. All dark mood lighting, annoying, trendy house music in the background and uncomfortable seating. The kind designed to have you standing all night before you take someone home. And now I understand why my very attentive friends brought me here. It’s not our usual go-to place. “It’s like high school or a frat house in here. And definitely not in a good way. I bet all these guys bathed in Ax body spray, gelled up their hair and left their mother’s basement to come here and find a ‘chick to bang’.” I put air quotes around those words. I have zero interest in being part of that scheme.

  “Well…” Rina’s voice drifts off, scanning the room desperately. “I know I can find you someone worthy.”

  “Don’t waste your brain function. I’m still not interested.” I roll my eyes dramatically and finish off my drink, slamming the glass down on the table with a bit more force than I intend. Oops. Whatever. I’m extremely satisfied in my anti-men status. Because that’s exactly what I am, anti-men, and I’m discovering I’m unrepentant about it. In fact, I think it’s a fantastic way to be when you wrack up one loser after another the way I have. Like a form of self-preservation.

  I’ve never had a good track record. Even before Matt, I had a knack for picking the wrong guys. My high school boyfriend ended up being gay. I handed him my V-card shortly before that bomb dropped on me, though he swore I didn’t turn him gay. He promised he was like that prior to the sex. In college, I dated two guys somewhat seriously. The first one cheated on me for months before I found out, and the second one was way more into his video games than he was me. I think he also had a secret cocaine problem, but I have no proof on that. I had given up on men for a while–are you seeing a trend here?–and then in my final year of graduate school, Matt came along. Need I say more? So as far as I’m concerned, men can all go screw themselves.

  “You can stop searching now, Rina.” This is just getting sad. “I have a vibrator. What else does a girl need?” All three pause their search to examine me and I realize I said that out loud. But it’s true, so I just shrug, folding my arms defiantly across my chest. “I don’t need a sextervention. If anything, I need to avoid the male species like the plague they are.”

  They dismiss me immediately, their cause to get me laid more important than my antagonism. “There,” Margot points to the far corner. The tenacious little bug gleaming like she just struck oil in her backyard. “That guy. He’s freaking hot as hell and he’s alone. He even looks sad, which means he needs a friend.”

  “Or he wants to be left alone to his drinking,” I mumble, wishing I had another drink in my hand so that I could focus on something other than my friends obsessively staring at some random creep across the bar.

  “Maybe,” Aria muses thoughtfully as she observes the man across the bar, tapping her bottom lip with her finger. “Or maybe he’s just had a crappy day. He looks so sad, Halle.” She nods like it’s all coming together for her. “So very sad. Go over and see if he wants company. Cheer him up.”

  “You’d be doing a public service,” Rina agrees. “Men that good looking should never be sad.”

  I roll my eyes at that. “You think a blow job would do it or should I offer him crazy, kinky sex to cheer him up. I still have that domination-for-beginners playset I picked up at Angela’s bachelorette party. Haven’t even been cracked open.”

  Aria tilts her head like she’s actually considering this. “That level of kink might scare him off for the first time. And I wouldn’t give him head unless he goes down on you first.”

  I’m not drunk enough for this. “Or he’s a total asshole who just fuck his girlfriend’s best friend,” I protest, my voice rising an octave with my objection. I sit up straight, desperate to make my point clear. “Or he’s about to go to prison because he hacks women into tiny bits with a machete before he eats them. Either way, I’m not interested.”

  “God,” Margot snorts, twirling her hair as she leans back in her chair and levels me with an unimpressed gaze. “Dramatic much? He wouldn’t be out on bail if that were the case. But seriously, that’s like crazy psycho shit and that guy does not say crazy psycho. He says delicious and yummy and I hand out orgasms like candy on Halloween.”

  She swivels her head to check him out again and licks her lips reflexively. I haven’t bothered to looked yet because my back is to him. All three ladies are eyeing him with unfettered appreciation and obvious lust and their tastes in men differ tremendously, which means this guy probably is hot. I shouldn’t be tempted. I really shouldn’t be. I’m asking for a world of trouble or hurt or legal fees. But I find the idea of a one-nighter, a total stranger, growing on me.

  Why? I have no freaking clue. I’ve never been that girl before. But maybe they’re right? Maybe a one-nighter with a random guy is just the ticket to wipe out my past of bad choices in men and make a start fresh? I don’t even know if that makes sense, since a one-nighter is the antithesis of a smart choice, but my brain is starting to rationalize, possibly even encourage. I need to stop this now.

  “He’s gay. Hot men are always gay. Or assholes. Or criminals. Or cheaters. Or just generally suck at life.”

  “You’ve had some bad luck is all. Look at Oliver. He’s good looking, sweet, loving and not an asshole. Or a criminal. And he likes you. You could date him.”

  Reaching over, I steal Rina’s cocktail. She doesn’t stop me or even seem to register the action. I stare at her with narrowed eyes over the rim of her glass as I slurp down about half of it in one gulp. “I’m not dating your brother, Rina. That’s weird and asking for trouble. You and I are best friends.”

  She sighs and then I sigh because I’m being a bitch and I don’t mean to be. I like her brother. He is all of those things that she just mentioned, minus the liking me part. But if things went bad between us, which they inherently would, it could cost me one of my most important friendships and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Plus, Oliver is one of the biggest players in the greater Boston area, unbeknownst to Rina.

  “I’m just saying that not all men are bad,” Rina continues and I shake my head no. “We’ll buy your drinks for a month,” she offers hastily, trying to close the deal.

  Margot glances over at her with furrowed eyebrows, a bit surprised by that declaration, but she quickly comes around with an indifferent shrug. Aria smiles, liking that idea. Then again, money is not Aria’s problem. “Most definitely,” she says. “Go. Let a stranger touch your lady parts. You’re waxed and shaved and looking hot. Let someone take advantage of that.”

  “And if he shoots me down?”

  “You don’t have to sleep with him,” Rina reminds me. “Or even give him your real name. In fact, tell him nothing real about yourself. It could be like a sexual experiment.” I shake my head at her. “We won’t bother you about it again,” she promises solemnly. “But he won’t shoot you down. You look movie star hot tonight.”

  I can only roll my eyes at that. While I appreciate the sentiment from my loving and supportive friends, being shot down by a total stranger when I’m already feeling emotionally strung-out might just do me in. Even if I have no interest in him.

  Twisting around in my chair, I stare across the crowded bar, searching for a few seconds until I spot the man in the corner. Holy Christmas in Florida, he is hot. There is no mistaking that. His hair is a platinum blond, short along the sides and just a bit longer on top. Just long enough that you could grab it and hold on tight while he kisses you. His profile speaks to his straight nose and strong, chiseled, cleanly shaven jaw. I must admit, I do enjoy a bit of stubble on my men, but he makes the lack of beard look so enticing that I don’t miss the roughn
ess. He’s wearing a suit. A dark suit. More than likely expensive judging by the way it contours to his board shoulders and the flash of gold on his wrist I catch in the form of cufflinks.

  But the thing that’s giving me pause is his anguish. It’s radiating off of him. His beautiful face is downcast, staring sightlessly into his full glass of something amber. Maybe scotch. Maybe bourbon. It doesn’t matter. That expression has purpose. Those eyes have meaning behind them and I doubt that he’s seeking any sort of company. In fact, I’m positive that he’d have no trouble finding any if were so incline.

  That thought alone makes me stand up without further comment. He’s the perfect man to get my friends off my back with. He’s going to shoot me down in an instant. I can feel the girls exchanging gleeful smiles, but I figure I’ll be back with them in under five minutes so their misguided enthusiasm is inconsequential. I watch him the entire way across the bar. He doesn’t even sip at his drink. He just stares blankly into it and that sort of heartbreak makes my stomach churn. This miserable stranger isn’t just your typical Saturday night bar dweller looking for a quick hookup.

  He’s drowning his sorrows.

  Miserable Stranger doesn’t notice my approach. He doesn’t even notice me as I wedge myself in between him and the person seated next to him. And he definitely doesn’t notice me as I order myself a dirty martini. I’m close enough to smell him. And damn, it’s so freaking good I catch myself wanting to close my eyes and breathe in deeper. Sandalwood? Citrus? Freaking godly man? Who knows. I have no idea what to say to him. In fact, I’m half tempted to grab my drink and scurry off, but I catch Rina, Margot and Aria watching vigilantly from across the bar with excited, encouraging smiles and I realize there is no way I cannot at least say hello.

  Especially if I want those bitches to buy me drinks for the next month.