Sinner (Shelter Harbor #1)

by Aubrey Irons

  He pulls me close, kissing me again. Slowly, I pull away and I bite my lip. “No, actually what I was thinking was what the heck took me so long.”

  “In fairness, it’s not always that good.”

  I bite my lip. “It’s not?”

  He grins. “Shit, it’s never that good.”

  “I guess we peaked.”

  “Guess so,” he murmurs. His hand slides down to the small of my back, making me tingle before it moves to my butt. He grabs me possessively, and the feeling of him pulling me against him, with that look in his eyes and that grin on his roguish lips has me tingling all over again.

  It has me wet all over again.

  I kiss him again, and I can feel my pulse skip a beat as I feel his cock pulse hot between us.

  “I guess if we peaked we probably shouldn’t bother doing that a second time then, huh?”

  His eyes flash, and his hand tightens on me. “Careful.”

  “Of what.”

  “Because if we keep going, sweetheart,” he growls into my ear. “I am going to ruin you for that poor fiancé of yours.”

  “Not my fiancé.”

  “So you’re not opposed to me ruining sex with any other guy for you?”

  “Please do,” I whimper as he kisses me again.

  I melt against him as his hand slides down between us. His fingers brush across my sex, and I shiver, reaching down to wrap my fingers around his thickness.

  His finger slips inside, stroking me, making me whimper as I start to pump my hand up and down his length. I gasp as he rolls us over, pulling me on top of him with my legs spread over his muscled hips.

  “Wait, what are you-”

  “Trust me.”

  “I do,” I whisper. I bite my lip, looking down at him. His hands grip my hips, stroking my thighs. He reaches for another condom, tearing the pack open as he watches me. I watch, my eyes wide as he rolls it over his large, throbbing cock.

  He lifts me up, reaching between us to center his cock against my opening. His other hand rests on my hip, pulling me down, and slowly, I start to slide onto him.

  Oh, God.

  It’s the feeling from before all over again. The slow stretch, the exquisite feeling of penetration, the way he fills me until I’m gasping for air and seeing stars. I gasp loudly as I feel myself sink all the way down, resting on his hips as his hands stroke my thighs.

  “Fuck,” he groans, looking up at me with this look of awe.

  “What?” I’m, suddenly self-conscious, blushing.

  “Remember that time I called you an angel, back at the bar that first day?”

  I nod, and he leans up close. His hands slip into my hair, tangling in it as he draws me close, his lips right against mine.

  “I meant it.”

  I moan as I kiss him, feeling him pulse deep inside of me. His hands drop to my hips, gripping me tight and slowly raising me off his lap. I whimper, moaning for more before he rocks his hips up to meet mine. My eyes roll back in my head as the pleasure erupts through me.

  His hands grip me, sliding me up and down, filling me again and again as I rock against him. I start to roll my hips on the down stroke, feeling his cock stroke against some sort of magical spot just inside of me that has me whimpering and shaking for him. My hands tangle in his hair, kissing him, biting his lip, moaning into his mouth as he fucks me up and down on his cock, filling me again and again and again until I know I’m going to lose it.

  Until I know I’m going to come for him all over again.

  His shoulders bunch, his arm muscles flex and coil, and his masculine moans rumble into my ear. I can feel his stubble against my cheek, my nipples rubbing over his broad chest, and the feel of our bodies coming together as one.

  His hands grab my ass, pulling me tight, and as I feel him start to pulse hard inside of me, I shatter over that edge again.

  I scream, but he grabs my jaw and kisses me, letting my cries drown in his lips. His cock throbs inside, filling me, coming with me as we crash together.

  Slowly, we’re dropping back to the sheets, panting as he pulls me close and strokes my skin. I close my eyes, unable to shake the smile from my face in a million years even if I wanted to.

  Hell come take me now.

  Because I don’t care what happens after this.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Rowan

  “C’mon, I should take you home.”

  She rolls towards me, hair cascading over one eye as she grins at me. “Wow, first time and you’re kicking me out?”

  I grin at her, yanking her against me so hard she gasps. “Technically, first and second times. And no, I’m not kicking you out, I’m just worried about your father knocking my door down with a gun and holy fire.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m an adult you know. I’m allowed to have sleep-overs.”

  “Right, and which of us wants to explain that face to face with your dad?”

  She leans and kisses me softly on the lips. “Not it.”

  I laugh. “Exactly.”

  “I wish I could just say here,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose.

  “You and me both.” I run my hand over her exposed skin, loving the heat and the ways she moves closer to me when I do.

  “You’re probably right about the gun and the brimstone though, I really should get home.”

  “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “So much for reverse psychology.”

  She laughs as she slips from the bed and starts to pull on clothes. Reluctantly, I join her, yanking jeans on and pulling on a t-shirt before snatching my bike keys.

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, no problem-”

  “No, thank you.”

  I stop at my door and turn back to see her looking at me quietly, her lip caught between her teeth and apprehension on her face. I drop the keys on my side table and move into her, pulling her against me and searing my mouth against those soft, perfect, heavenly lips of hers.

  There’s a lance of regret — a sharp feeling that I’ve ruined her. A guy like me should have nothing to do with taking the innocence of a girl this good, this pure, this wholesome.

  Except I just did, and I loved every fucking second of taking that goodness and making her mine.

  I’ve got a pretty good feeling she did too.

  “You okay?”

  “I am very much more than okay,” she grins, kissing me again. “That was perfect, actually.” She smiles softly, her eyes looking up at me. “So, thank you.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Except right now.”

  I grin slowly at her and she blushes. “It wasn’t a dare. I mean, I really should get home.”

  I grab the keys from the side table. “Let’s go angel.”

  I swing the door open and Eva gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. I whirl, but not before I get shoved off my damn feet right back into the apartment.

  I growl as I sit up, scrambling to my feet and glaring at the two men in my doorway.

  Rich, and his not-so-little lapdog Gus.

  “The fuck are you doing in my goddamn house-”

  And that’s when I notice the gleam of silver in Rich’s hand. A gleam of silver that looks a whole lot like a pistol once I stop and stare at it.

  He shrugs, grinning wickedly as he fingers it in his hands. “Your house? I mean, until you’re paid up, isn’t this at least, what, sixty percent my house?”

  I glower at him, shoulders heaving as I step between them and Eva.

  “Just dropping by to say hello, Rich?”

  The man grins. “Something like that.”

  He nods past me at Eva, and I feel my hands ball into fists.

  “I know you.”

  “No you don’t,” I growl.

  “Rowan, please, it’s my job to know who comes in and out of my town.”

  “Your town.”

  He rolls his eyes before narrowing them back at her. “Say
, your daddy know you’re here slumming it with one of the Hammonds?”

  Eva’s hand grips mine, holding tight as she moves behind me.

  “You’re here for me,” I growl, my jaw clenching as I move even more in front of her. “She stays out of this, Rich, and you don’t fucking look at her.”

  He grins. “Still trying to pull off the macho look, huh Hammond?” He chuckles. “This guy, I’ll tell you, sweetheart.”

  He glances past me at Eva again as I narrow my eyes at him.

  “He tell you much about him?”

  “Why are you here, Rich.”

  “He tell you about the leg?”

  I advance on him, but Gus steps forward, putting a huge meaty hand on my chest. “Back. Not warning you again, Row.”

  Rich chuckles. “He tell you about Johnny Doyle? He got shot. Rowan was there, he can tell you all about it. Same night as the leg, actually.”

  “I’m going to ask you one more fucking time what the fuck you’re doing here, Rich,” I growl, every muscle in my body coiling.

  “Manners, you prick,” he growls. “I’m just here for a reminder that your rate’s going up.”

  “You came all the way here to tell me that again?”

  “Rowan.” Rich spreads his arms. “We both know you’re not exactly the type to do what he’s supposed to do.” He nods at her again, grinning as his eyes slide over her.

  “Case and point. Figured you’d need some reminding.”

  He looks past me at Eva again and whistles lowly. “Man. This is almost too perfect. Preacher’s son meets preacher’s daughter? The only boy who could ever reach you, huh sweetheart?” He chuckles and starts to whistle the Dusty Springfield tune.

  “Doesn’t look like you two are exactly studying the good book up here now does it?” His eyes land on her again and narrow. “What’s your name again, cutie?”

  He starts to advance, and I can feel her freeze behind me before something inside of me just snaps. I roar as I lunge into Rich, knocking him to the ground. Eva’s screaming as I land with my legs aside him, my fist raised in the air.

  Not like I get a chance to swing it.

  Gus lunges forward, yanking me off of his boss and chucking me against the wall with a thudding sound that makes my head spin. I grunt, blindly scrambling for my feet before Gus sinks a fist into my gut. Eva cries out again as Gus gets one more across my mouth, before backing off and swearing.

  “Goddamnit, Rowan, I warned you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I cough, wincing. “Yeah, you did.”

  Rich stands, dusting his suit off. “You always were a hot head you little shit.” His eyes narrow at Eva again before dropping back to me. “Rate just went up another one and a half percent, you little fucker.” He dusts his suit jacket again. “I’ll bill you for the goddamn dry-cleaning.”

  He looks back at Eva and wags his brows. “You ever wanna show me what you look like praying on your knees, you come find me, all right?”

  I roar and start to rise, but Gus stops me with a firm hand on the shoulder and a shake of his head. “Stay down, Row,” he says quietly.

  Rich strolls over to my fridge and pulls out a beer. He opens it and tosses the cap back at me. “Thanks for the drink, buddy.”

  The door slams behind them, and I sink against the wall with a groan.

  Eva’s gasping as she drops to my side, her hands cupping my jaw. “Jesus, are you-”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I grumble, wincing as I slowly stand.

  “God, your head.”

  She runs to the fridge and grabs a bag of frozen peas from the freezer before coming back to my side.

  “Eva, I’m fine.”

  “Well, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you sort of look like you just got punched in the face.”

  I grin, laughing before I wince all over again. I take the bag and put it against my head.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry about that. You really shouldn’t have seen that.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It sort of liked like more than nothing.”

  I shake my head, turning to look at her. “I don’t want to tell you.”

  “Why not?” She frowns.

  “Because you’re too good.”

  She smiles wryly. “So good that I’m apparently slumming it with you, huh?”

  “You know what I mean. You’re good, Eva, and this is the sort of shit that follows guys like me around that you shouldn’t have anything to do with.”

  “So tell me, so I know to look out for it next time.”

  My lips curl slightly in a grin. “When exactly did the little church girl get so sassy and tenacious?”

  “Maybe you just bring it out in me.”

  I smile and shake my head, looking away. “Rich is just a parasite. A loan shark. I needed money to open this place — way more than people thought. My dad’s an investor, but that was a drop in the bucket. Rich funded the rest, but,” I shake my head. “It’s a moot point, because at the rate he’s bleeding me, there’s not going to be a bar left for me to owe him on.”

  “What happened the night of your leg?”

  I stiffen.

  “Sorry,” she says quietly. “That’s none of my business.”

  “I was eighteen,” I say slowly, turning to look at her. “The summer before I was supposed to go off to college. I got mixed up with the wrong people — decided I needed something more I guess.”

  She nods and I reach down and slip my fingers into hers.

  “You met Silas. Well, his Uncle Declan was — is — bad news. He’s in jail now, but back then, he and his crew used to pull hit and run jobs.”

  “Hit and run?”

  “Robberies.”

  Her eyes go wide.

  “They were going to knock over this armored truck at one of its pick ups, and for some stupid, fucking insane reason, I told Declan I’d be his getaway driver.”

  I almost don’t want to continue, only because I don’t want her to look at me in that light. But then, she needs to know this.

  And so I do. I tell her about that night. I tell her about Silas stopping me, and the crash. I tell her about the pain, and the regret, and the way life sort of shattered apart for a while back then.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers into my chest, hugging me close.

  There’s no judgement there, no second glance at me like I’m some sort of criminal. There’s something just so sweet in the way she opens herself to hearing this shit.

  There’s something inside of me that breaks in the face of that sweetness, as I sit there and tell her about the night everything fell apart.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says again, squeezing my hand.

  I shake my head. “It was a long, long time ago, and really, I’m fine with it.” I glance down at her. “I mean that. I like who I am, and what I’ve got. This?” I raise my arms. “I know this isn’t much, but it’s mine.” I laugh. “Well, someday, if I ever pay that parasite back.”

  I kiss her again before I gingerly stand. “C’mon, I should take you home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve gotten you dirty enough tonight, that’s why.”

  “Rowan…”

  I glance down at her again. “Look, this — this isn’t how I wanted this to go.”

  “What?”

  “Your first time.”

  Eva blushes, raking her teeth over her lip before she reaches up, cups my jaw, and leans up to kiss me. “Believe me, it was memorable.”

  “It doesn’t always come with a fist-fight afterwards.”

  She makes a face. “No? Shoot, talk about letting a girl down.”

  “I’m sure there are enough people in this town who’d jump at the chance to hit me. I’ll ask around for next time.”

  Her cheeks flush as she glances up at me. “Next time, huh?”

  “Believe me, angel,” I whisper in
to her ear, making her shiver. “There’s no way I’m done with you yet.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Evangeline

  I like sex. I like sex a lot, actually. And as it turns out, I like sex with Rowan Hammond a whole lot.

  So much so that I can’t stop thinking about it. So much so that the wicked, sinfully wonderful things we did up in his apartment two nights before have me stumbling through the days lost in dirty daydreams, and tossing and turning in my bed at night with even dirtier ones.

  And I want more. I crave more.

  It's the physical, of course. It's the visceral, physical reaction even being near him brings out in me. But there’s more than that. And that’s the part that scares me. It’s the part that actually honestly enjoys being around him — and not just the sex parts, but the in-between too. The knowing looks, that roguish grin of his — that uncanny way he has of finishing my thoughts out loud before I even say them.

  And I am completely aware of how freaking silly all of that is, knowing what this is, and know who he is.

  …It doesn’t seem to stop me from thinking them, though.

  “Hotdog?”

  I blush crimson, my lips curling at the sound of his voice in my ear.

  “No, thank you,” I say primly.

  “You sure?”

  I can feel him press against me — subtly, almost unnoticeable.

  I notice it though. I notice it and resist the urge to push back into him, because then everyone else will certainly notice it.

  Everyone else being, the huge barbecue that Reverend Hammond and his wife are throwing for all the workers and volunteers for the Center, currently being hosted in the backyard of St. Ann’s – the Catholic church with the far bigger backyard and kitchen down the street from Reverend Hammond’s Congregationalist one.

  But Rowan standing behind me at the condiments table is one thing. Me pressing back into him and shivering against that hard, wicked, sinful body that does all sorts of wonderful things to me would be downright scandalous.

  “Quite sure,” I whisper over my shoulder. He reaches past me for the ketchup, his arm brushing over the outside of mine and making me suck my bottom lip between my teeth.

  “You’re sure you’re sure,” he growls, and this time, he eases his hips against mine, and my breath catches at the feel of the thickness in the front of his jeans pressing into my butt.