Beautiful Sinner

by Sophie Jordan

  He lowered his hot-liquid gaze back to her and she knew she looked as shell-shocked as she felt. She wet her bruised-feeling lips and fought to regain her breath. “That . . . I . . .”

  “Come back to my place,” he said thickly, his thumb brushing over her moist lip. Sensation shot through her at the contact and she marveled that that simple touch could affect her after everything—after all the far more intimate things they had just done. Would this man never not reduce her to a pile of goo with a touch? “I don’t want you to leave me tonight.”

  She didn’t want to leave him either. Not tonight. Not ever.

  And that was ridiculous. Clearly her sluggish brain was clouded from too many orgasms.

  She tried to think of why going home with him was a bad idea. She knew there was a reason she should say no. There were many reasons. Several.

  Her family. The fucking world. She would be going back to Austin soon.

  This thing between them could never go anywhere. Never be permanent.

  But all those reasons seemed insignificant.

  “Okay. I’ll follow you in my car.”

  Twenty-Two

  They showered when they got back to his place and he took her against the tiled wall with soapy water sluicing down her body. Her curves were slippery in his hands, but he was convinced shower sex, something he had actually never had before, was his new favorite thing. Her tits tasted better wet and with the faint aroma of his soap on her glistening skin.

  Cruz knew he should let her sleep, give her some relief from him, but he had spent seven years dreaming about this woman in a prison cell.

  He couldn’t be satiated.

  Of course, if she had protested or complained he would have restrained himself, but the fact that she was so into it, sometimes even reaching for him first and climbing on top of him in bed, only fed his hunger. Gabriella astride him was something that went beyond fantasy.

  And there was that sense of a clock ticking, that this was all about to go away, vanish like smoke.

  It filled him with a sense of urgency.

  It made him desperate and greedy.

  He had to make it last. He had to mark her. Had to ruin her for another man. Just the thought of another man in her future had him reaching for her, kissing her. He almost didn’t even stop for a condom in his haste to slide inside her.

  Of course, he realized, belatedly, he was marking himself.

  Ruining himself.

  No woman would ever be enough. Because she would never be Gabriella.

  At dawn, he actually fell asleep with one arm wrapped around her waist, her body pulled close to his chest. She wouldn’t sneak away without his knowledge. There would be no disappearing like smoke. Not yet.

  His phone started ringing insistently a little after eight. He blinked bleary eyes, startled to realize the bed was, in fact, empty. He sat up abruptly, glancing around wildly. Then the sound of running water penetrated. She was still here.

  He was debating joining her in the shower again when he recalled his phone had been ringing. He checked and saw he had a missed call from his sister.

  He called her back. “Hey, Piper.”

  “Cruz? How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. Better than he had ever been, in fact. “Why?”

  “Of course, you haven’t seen it,” she said with an indulgent sigh. “You really should join the twenty-first century, Cruz.”

  “What are you talking about?” he snapped.

  “Go look at your computer. Type in your name.”

  He pushed back the covers, taking the phone with him, and strode naked across the room. He typed in his name and countless URLs popped up featuring him.

  He clicked on the first one and it took him to the website of the Austin Daily Reporter.

  His stomach bottomed out. No way. She didn’t.

  He clicked on the video beneath the header: Undercover Reporter Goes Deep Under Covers . . .

  And there was a video. Of course. He played it, watching himself make out with Gabriella in the coffeehouse parking lot.

  “Shit,” he breathed.

  “You found it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Clever wordplay,” she offered weakly.

  “I can’t believe she would do this.” He scanned the article, his heart seizing on the line: Investigative reporter Gabriella Rossi promises details to come as she peels back the layers on the man, the mystery, Cruz Walsh.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, his gaze swinging toward the shower. The door was open and Gabriella stood there, smiling at him. She looked beautiful, her skin pink from the shower, his towel wrapped around her. He felt it like a blow to his gut.

  She only looked at him and saw him as a story. Not a person. That had always been in the back of her mind, but he never had to face it until now.

  As she took in his expression, her smile faltered. “Cruz?”

  “I gotta go, Piper.” He hung up on his sister even as her voice continued to talk.

  He turned his laptop screen around, gesturing at it. “You’ve been busy. I’m surprised you didn’t leak any photos from last night. You’re clearly resourceful enough.”

  Clutching a towel to her chest, she stepped forward and scanned the screen. Color blossomed in her cheeks. “I didn’t have anything to do with that!”

  “That’s your paper, isn’t it? The one you work for?”

  She closed her eyes in a long blink and then opened them, her velvet eyes the perfect picture of anguish. “My coworker, Jabal, posted the video to her Twitter. My paper must have found it and picked it up—”

  “And just posted this without you knowing?” He motioned to the screen with a disbelieving snort.

  “My Copy Editor is a pit bull. The more salacious the headline, the better. He’s not big on journalistic integrity.”

  “And you are?” he shot back.

  Her cheeks flamed hotter. “I don’t deserve that!” She moved to her discarded clothes. Dropping the towel, she began dressing herself, her breasts jiggling with her movements and damn if he didn’t get hard watching her. Even angry, he wanted her.

  As she wrestled to turn her dress right side out, she kept talking. And he kept watching her, wanting her.

  God, he was messed up . . . or he just had it really bad for this woman. Both, he guessed.

  “He’s been pushing me for your story. You knew I wanted your story. I never hid that from you—”

  “Yeah. I just didn’t think you would stoop to this.”

  She stopped, flinging her dress down and glaring at him. “I wouldn’t! I didn’t!” Her gaze lowered, colliding on his very erect cock.

  Her face only reddened further. She reached for her panties and stepped into them. His dick wept at the sight. He stepped up behind her, his hands landing on her hips. “So you’re done then? No more undercover work? I mean . . . I enjoyed your methods. I wouldn’t be opposed to another round.” Even as the words escaped him, he couldn’t believe he was saying them.

  She turned to face him, her eyes raging bright. “Go to hell,” she spat, hastily donning the rest of her clothes. “You just want to believe this so you can fuck up whatever it was you thought was happening here between us.”

  “And what did you think was happening here, Rossi?” The question came out perfectly bored even though his blood was pumping hard and fast through his veins.

  “Nothing,” she snapped. “Absolutely nothing. We were just two consenting adults having sex.” Dressed now, she clutched her purse to her chest. “So you didn’t really need to pick a fight, Cruz. Don’t worry. I would never dream of falling in love with you.”

  He told himself that was a relief. There would be no tears. No awkward professions of love.

  She nodded sarcastically, her brown hair flowing wild all around her. “You’re safe from me.”

  She stormed out of his bedroom. He followed at a more strolling pace, wondering why those words felt like
another slap to his face.

  He didn’t want her love. That would give way to things normal people had—marriage, kids, retirement plans—and he wasn’t a normal person. He never would be. So he let her go.

  He’d lusted after her for years and now he had her. It should be enough. It had to be.

  He stood on the porch and watched as she stalked angrily to her car, her steps wobbly over the gravel. His hands clenched the wood porch railing as though he needed something to hold on to. From inside he heard his phone ringing, undoubtedly his sister calling back to check on him. She always worried. What she didn’t realize was that some broken things could never be fixed.

  He didn’t move though. It felt important that he should watch, that he should have this final glimpse of her.

  He trained his expression to reveal nothing as he watched Gabriella Rossi climb into her car and drive out of his life.

  She dialed Cody the instant she pulled out onto the highway. “How could you do that to me?”

  “Hey, what’s on the Internet is fair game for all.”

  “You wrote lies!”

  “I call it like I see it, Gabs. But not for nothing, you looked pretty hot up against that car. Made me think of old times.”

  She was going to be sick. “You’re a pig. I quit.”

  He laughed. “You already did that.”

  “Well, I’m saying it again because it feels so fucking good to say it!”

  He was still talking as she ended the call and then gripped the steering wheel, gulping back sobs and feeling very much like she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

  She was out of a job twice in one week . . . and it wasn’t exactly easy to get a job in media in this digital age, but she couldn’t summon the will to care about that at this moment.

  She was breaking inside. Cruz was right about one thing. She was a liar.

  She hadn’t been telling the truth when she said she would never fall in love with him. Because she had. She’d always loved him . . . first as a myth. A fantasy. The larger than life dreamy boy in high school.

  Then she had fallen in love with the real Cruz. The noble man who went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit and then stayed in the town that persecuted him. He stayed and opened a place, a community for disadvantaged kids.

  She pounded the steering wheel. She loved his stupid face.

  She pulled onto Nana’s street and winced when she noticed the news van. God, no.

  Trent was there with Nana, but it didn’t appear he needed to do much. Nana had things well in hand, stabbing a broom at them and backing them up toward their van.

  Gabriella eased off the gas and waited for them to drive away before pulling into the driveway.

  Trent’s eyes danced with delight as she got out of the car. At least someone was enjoying all the drama. “Of all the people in this family to be caught in a sex scandal, I never thought it would be you, Aunt Gabby.” He held up his phone. “Seriously though, a lot of my friends want to know if you’re free this Friday night.”

  “Trent!” She nodded toward Nana, conveying that he should be more circumspect.

  Nana waved a hand dismissively. “It was only kissing. What’s all the fuss?” She shot Trent with a look of disgust. “And why would she want some teenage boy when she has a man like that?”

  Heat swamped her. “Nana, he’s not my man.”

  “Well, why not? You better lock that in. That fella is a man’s man. A regular Paul Newman.”

  Trent looked at her as though bewildered.

  “Before your time,” she supplied.

  Nana focused her attention back on Gabriella. “Don’t let Cruz Walsh slip away, my girl. He’s a keeper. A man like him doesn’t come along two times in a life. Sometimes he don’t come around at all.”

  Gabriella started. “I—uh. Nana . . .” She shook her head. “How did you know? How did you know it was Cruz Walsh?”

  “Agh.” She waved one of her heavily veined hands. “I’ve known it was him the moment he showed up here with food. You think I don’t remember what he looks like?”

  “But your . . . cataracts . . .” she said lamely.

  “Ack! I’m not blind. He’s quite memorable.”

  Gabriella gaped, speechless for several moments. “You knew it was him when he came over here and you said nothing?”

  Nana shrugged. “You seemed to want to believe I didn’t recognize him. Who am I to shatter your delusions?” Nana’s cloudy gaze narrowed on her. “That’s for you to do.”

  Yes. Yes, it was. She had been living under a number of delusions. Primarily, that she wasn’t good enough. For most of her life, she had thought her life would be better if she was somewhere else. If she had the right job. If she met the right man. If she was the right dress size. If others accepted her. None of that mattered now. She didn’t care about any of that.

  She would decide what her happiness would be. Her life and the happiness she found in it was entirely up to her.

  Another vehicle approached, sliding up to the curb and giving a light honk in greeting.

  “Who’s that?” Nana demanded. “Another one of those news people?” She tightened her grip on her broom, clearly ready for another go.

  Her chest sank. “I wish.” It was Natalie. Ugh. She’d rather face a mob of paparazzi than Natalie.

  She rolled down the window and waved her hand. “Gabby!”

  Dread consumed her as she walked toward Natalie’s SUV. She stopped on the sidewalk, not getting too close. She angled her body toward the house, trying to convey that she wasn’t up for a long chat.

  Nana and Trent stood near the front door, watching across the distance.

  “Gabby,” she said in a heavy breath. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” she said numbly, hoping she now felt satisfied with not minding her business and drive away.

  “Wow. You weren’t kidding. You certainly do take your career seriously.” She shook her head, her wide eyes mocking as they fixed on Gabriella with false solemnity. “I had no idea journalists went to such lengths to get a story. You certainly are dedicated. Hats off to you, girl.”

  Well, Natalie certainly took the prize on subtext.

  “Oh, fuck off.”

  Trent hooted and applauded from where he stood.

  Natalie’s mouth gaped. She sputtered like a fish. “What did you say—”

  “I said fuck off. You’re not my friend. You never have been. Why are you even here? Don’t you have any friends? Go away and bother them. Stop trying to torment me. It doesn’t work anymore.”

  “Well.” She took several gulps of breath. “The years haven’t been kind to you.”

  “They have, actually. They got me to this moment . . . to finally being someone I like. And that someone isn’t afraid to tell you to get the hell out of here.”

  Her sister suddenly whipped into the driveway. Great. Tess was the last person she wanted to see right now. Natalie was easy to handle, she realized. There was no investment. Tess, on the other hand, was family. She couldn’t tell her to get out of her life with any expectation of success.

  Tess hopped down out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Dakota was with her, too. Her niece rounded the front of the car and went to stand beside Trent.

  Tess marched over with swift, purposeful strides.

  “Oh, hello there, Tess,” Natalie called. “I was just stopping by to check on poor Gabby here.” She pulled an exaggerated pout and tsked her tongue. “You know . . . all things considered . . . and you can’t imagine how rude she’s being to me.”

  Tess looked Natalie over coolly. There was no telling what she was thinking. The shiny lenses of her glasses blocked her eyes. “Fuck off, Natalie.”

  Gabriella snorted. Well, then. She hadn’t seen that coming.

  Natalie’s face went from smug to astonished in one second flat. Gabriella could understand the astonishment. She felt a similar sentiment.

  Tess continued silk
ily, “Anyone can see through you, Natalie. You’re so jealous you can’t even stand it.”

  “Jealous? Me?” Her gaze shot to Gabriella. “Of fucking Flabby Gabby?”

  Gabriella rolled her eyes, for once feeling very unaffected by that slur.

  “First of all, don’t call my sister that ever again.” Tess stepped off the curb and placed a hand rather menacingly on the roof of Natalie’s SUV. “Gabriella is getting laid by Cruz Walsh while you’re married to a man who can’t even see his shoes anymore.” She fluttered her fingers in a shooing motion. “Get off our street.”

  “Bitch! Both of you! Bitches,” Natalie spat, slamming the gear into drive and hitting the accelerator, narrowly missing a neighbor’s car parked across the street.

  “Bye!” Stepping back onto the curb, Tess waved cheerfully. “See you at the next PTA meeting.”

  They watched Natalie drive like a bat out of hell down the street.

  “Thanks.” Gabriella looked over at her sister like she had never seen her before—and she hadn’t. At least not this version of her.

  “Sure.” She shrugged. “We’re family. I know I’ve kinda failed at acting like your family lately, but I’m going to try and do a better job.”

  “Well, thanks, but I’m not sure it’s going to make a difference. Natalie is only going to hate me more and now it made the two of you enemies—”

  “Her? Pfft. No one likes her. I don’t care about her.” Tess leveled her a look. “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, and I suck at showing it, but I care about you.” She sent a glance at where her daughter stood, watching them. Clearly they had had some manner of heart to heart. Gabriella was glad for that. Mothers and daughters should be close.

  Tess continued, “I have issues. Jason, the divorce, other things . . .” She shook her head. “Not important. They have nothing to do with you. They’re my burden, but I’ve been taking it out on everyone. I took it out on you the other night.” Her chest lifted on a breath. “I do love you and I promise to do better at showing it.” Emotion thickened her voice. “I’m sorry I hit you. I know it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry Jason hurt you.”