Saved by a Sinner

by A G Henderson

  My eyes closed and I laid back on the bed with a sigh.

  The hate was there. Present and accounted for within my heart. Pulsing like a tumor I would never be able to cut out completely. Letting it back in would be easy, and life would return to the way it had been.

  And on our right ...Option B.

  Kick sand over the lines I was barely managing to uphold where Carlos was concerned. Explore whatever this was between us. Whatever was making me feel whole enough to have an actual conversation with the man I owed my life to. The man who had strode into the fire while it still raged, and choked on the ash, in order to make sure I got to the other side.

  My hand landed on my chest. The steady thump of my heartbeat against my palm was a metronome swinging back and forth, waiting on my decision. Except this entire exercise was pointless.

  Who was I trying to fool?

  There was no real choice to make here. None at all. Carlos made me feel treasured. Special. Loved. Sure, the whole thing could crash and burn down around me. Hell, it probably would.

  But hiding from it would make me a coward, something I would never be. Besides, anything was better than remaining a vengeful ghost of a person.

  I sat up suddenly and got to my feet again, feeling lighter than I had in ages. It was amazing, the difference coming to a decision could make. My fingers suddenly itched with impatience to explore my warlord the same way he’d done for me. Then there was the tingling warmth that settled low in my stomach and had nothing to do with matters of the heart.

  I ran a hand down my front, parting the robe as my fingers trailed across my skin. When I reached the bare junction between my legs and trailed a finger over my silky, sensitive lips, I bit my lip to hold back a breathy gasp.

  Down girl.

  Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away and tried to ignore the way everything in the room smelled like him. I glanced towards the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help.

  Or the detachable shower head I spotted before.

  CHAPTER 17 - Sylvia

  By the time Carlos returned from wherever he had been, I was dressed and curled up on the sofa in his living room, humming a tune and skimming through a comic book I'd found on the bookshelf in his study.

  He paused in the hallway, looking lickable in a navy blue suit and black shirt beneath it that hugged the muscled planes of his chest in just the right places. My attention swept over him greedily, taking in the slightly tousled hair begging for my fingers and the darker shadow of stubble around his jaw on its way to being a full beard. I had never given much thought to how I would want my man's facial hair, but after feeling the rough scrub of bristles against my skin during our kiss, I was definitely in favor.

  How would those whiskers feel brushing between my breasts? My inner thighs?

  Jesus. Maybe I should've spent more time in the shower.

  He adjusted his tie, distracting me from my obvious perusal, but the movement was jerky, lacking his usual finesse. My eyes swept up to meet his, and for whatever reason, he was too caught off guard to maintain the careful barrier he kept between his emotions and the rest of the world. For a single instant, I saw things I was sure he wasn't intending to show me.

  Worry. Reluctance. A longing so fierce my chest ached with sympathy.

  It was only when he carefully stepped further into the room, moving like he was scared I might run, that I realized I was the cause of those emotions. In spite of the boundless confidence he wore with the same grace he did his clothing, the slight show of hesitation told me Carlos had no idea where he stood with me.

  It made sense. I was all over the place this week, swinging between emotions faster than a theme park attraction. One minute I was threatening bodily harm and the destruction of everything he had built. Then I was riding his fingers, chasing my orgasm like a wild woman. Today, I was curled up on his couch, making myself at home.

  The thought of everything combined was enough to give me whiplash, but the man in front of me had gone along with it, maintaining the type of stability I needed to come to terms with what was happening. He needed to know how much I appreciated his patience, along with everything else.

  He needed to know how badly I wanted to give us a chance.

  Here goes nothing.

  Overly aware of the fluttery pulse in my throat, I closed the comic and set it down before making my way towards him. He stayed right where he was and I managed a slight smile through the nerves jumping around like hyperactive toddlers inside my belly. Carlos took me in slowly, going from my bare feet to the tight black jeans and up to an oversized beige sweater I had found in his closet. The thing dwarfed me, hanging almost down to mid thigh. I stopped in front of him, with barely a foot separating us, and his focus lingered on my torso.

  If he were any other man, I would have been convinced he was staring at my braless breasts. But he wasn't any other man. He was sweet and caring and unique. He was constantly proving those things true and he did it again right then.

  Honey eyes finally landed on my face, warm enough to make a flush creep up my cheeks, and he spoke without ever opening his mouth.

  You're wearing my clothes, that possessive look said.

  Obviously, my smug grin answered.

  He growled low in his throat, taking a step closer. You know what I mean.

  I nodded, heart thumping in anticipation, because I knew exactly what he meant.

  Once I had gotten out of the shower, his closet had been my very next stop. Only I had paused the moment I stepped inside. Because sometime between when we fell asleep together and this morning, he'd retrieved the clothes I hadn't destroyed from Rebel’s townhouse and hung them up right beside his own.

  Yet here I stood, wearing something of his.

  And I may or may not have spent most of the morning holding the fabric up to my nose, sniffing it like a weirdo.

  Carlos took another step, closing the distance between us. He was close enough for my toes to touch his dress shoes. Close enough for my fingers to automatically find their way into the loops of his pants. Close enough for our chests to brush together, two open flames coaxed into proximity. Or maybe that was me leaning into him.

  I wasn't sure.

  The only thing I was sure of was that when his head dipped towards me, I eagerly raised my chin and closed my eyes, accepting his kiss.

  And kiss me he did.

  Good Lord he did.

  His lips brushed against mine, a feather light promise of what was to come. That alone was enough to send electricity through me, making my toes wiggle. His low chuckle made me think he somehow knew the way my body reacted to him, but the embarrassment didn't have a chance to bloom before he descended on me further.

  Carlos slid a hand beneath the sweater, rough palm finding the bare skin of my hip and making me shiver. His other hand swept up the nape of my neck, leaving a trail of fire as he cupped the back of my head and slanted his mouth across mine.

  We moved against each other slowly. Savoring. Exploring. Learning. This wasn't the hungry rush of lust meeting lust from yesterday.

  The heat between us was there, lingering in the background, adding a subtle urgency to the way his hand squeezed my hip and the way I pressed myself into his chest. But we weren't letting it control the flow.

  This was closer to the kiss we shared outside the diner but with none of the hesitation. His thumb swept slow circles behind my ear and I couldn't stop the moan I released against his mouth.

  He groaned in response, pulling back slightly. “Swear to God,” he said against my lips. “Those little sounds you make are going to be the death of me.”

  I stood up on my toes, wrapping both arms around his neck. “Shut up and get back to kissing me,” I purred in a husky voice.

  We were both smiling when we crashed against each other again, a smile that slowly melted away beneath the passion, though it never disappeared. Not completely. My heart was smiling uncontrollably.

  Carlos walked me backwards, nipping at my
jaw, and my eyes closed as I let out a sigh of pleasure. His hand on my hip traveled eagerly across my skin, and the fingers cupping my neck trembled like they were just as ready to explore every inch of me. I was surprised to find how badly I wanted it. How badly I wanted him touching me everywhere.

  I tripped over my own feet as I reached down and started tugging the sweater up and over my head, but Carlos was there to grip my waist, supporting my weight easily, tongue sliding along the column of my throat.

  Cool air hit my bare skin as I dropped the sweater to the floor but I could barely feel it with the way his heat wrapped around every inch of me. A heat that only spread deeper when his tongue brushed across the seam of my lips, tasting me.

  My lower back hit a solid surface and I came out of the clouds long enough to notice we had somehow made it into the kitchen. His hands found my hips again, squeezing tight as he lifted me up and onto the granite countertop. I spread my legs instantly, allowing room for him between them.

  He leaned forward, forehead pressing against mine, strong arms bracketing my body on either side until I was sealed in a cage of muscle. It hit me then, how different he made things. How much of a goner I was for this man.

  I’d made lots of progress over the years, but hugs from people close to me were something to suffer through while the familiar creep of anxiety wrapped around my lungs and stole my breath.

  Then there was Carlos. And trapped beneath his heady attention and huge body or not, I knew in my bones that he would step away and give me space at the first sign of discomfort.

  How was I supposed to keep him out of my heart when he was already there, healing the jagged edges that had never set quite right? I wasn’t sure if it was possible. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be.

  Sensing my mood without me ever uttering a word, Carlos trailed the back of his fingers down my arm. “You with me, sweetheart?” His voice was a husky rumble from what we’d been up to. Except my enjoyment of it was hampered by the realization that I was naked from the waist up.

  “Yeah,” I managed, not meeting his eyes. Which didn’t keep me from feeling his slow perusal. A muscle in my arm twitched with the need to cover what I could.

  It was silly. I knew it was. The more sensible voice inside me was doing its best to point out the fact he’d seen everything and offered no complaints. Too bad my heart was wide open and refusing to listen to anything but the insecure voice growing steadily stronger.

  Carlos was stupid rich, handsome enough to make my mouth water, built like an Olympic athlete, and he radiated the kind of confidence most men couldn’t achieve in their dreams.

  He would’ve caught the eye of every red blooded woman in the city and there was no reason to pretend otherwise, no matter how much the idea of him with someone else made my stomach twist. He was the kind of good looking that meant he could get away with curling his finger and waiting for the ensuing stampede.

  I was sure none of them were covered in still red scratches from their most recent bout of blackout rage. They likely didn’t host a plethora of other scars both big and small either. Sweeping over their bodies, a tabloid of imperfections.

  “Tell me about this one,” he whispered, fingers trailing across the raised skin on my shoulder.

  I blinked, too caught up in my comparisons to women I had never met to register his words. “What?” He patiently tapped the same spot on my shoulder again and I glanced down, cringing as I realized he was already pointing out a flaw. “Kane and Saze were trying to teach me how to put a little something together.”

  He was quiet for a moment, expression pensive. “You’re talking about a bomb.”

  “Yeah. That’s kind of what they do. It only took one try to make me realize I wanted nothing to do with explosives.”

  “Hmm.” Carlos stared at the spot, unblinking. Then he leaned forward, placing a tender kiss over the puckered skin. I froze in place, shocked into inaction. While I was pretending to be a mannequin, his hand swept down, brushing over another area on my ribs that made my stomach flex and relax. “This one?”

  I swallowed thickly, trying to meet his eyes but failing to do so. What was this? What was he doing? “What are you doing?” I whispered, bringing the question into existence.

  He stroked the sensitive skin beneath my breast, just above the scar, and goosebumps trailed in his wake. “Answer me.”

  Demanding jerk.

  “What did Tex call it?” I searched my memory for a moment, managing a shaky grin as it came back to me. “Urban training. In reality it was a giant game of tag. For a big motherfucker, he’s surprisingly agile. I tried to scale a wall and go over a fence after him. The wall was easy enough but the fence got the best of me.”

  Carlos made a noncommittal noise again before bending his huge body enough to run several velvet kisses along my ribs. Heat pooled in my belly and my hands found their way to his shoulders like they were guided by a map. He met my eyes briefly, desire swirling in their depths, before his gaze fell to one of the biggest scars I had.

  This one went right across my hip and disappeared into the tops of my jeans. He raised a single brow and I knew what he was expecting. I also needed to know why.

  My fingers slipped beneath the collar of his pressed shirt. “What are you doing?” I asked again, voice stronger.

  The full force of his attention fell on me, a freight train pinning me in place. Atlas himself couldn’t have lifted the weight.

  “Trying to open your eyes,” he said in a low rumble. “I never want you to feel inadequate or insecure, especially around me.” I ducked my head, hating how easily he saw right through me, but one of his huge hands was there to catch my jaw and force my gaze up to meet his. “You have nothing to hide, diosa.”

  My heart. All this pitter-pattering could not be healthy.

  “When I look at you, I don’t see flaws or imperfections. No, I see a story. A story of a woman who went through hell and came out on the other side. A story that led that same gorgeous, tough as nails, take no shit woman into my life. Which is exactly where she belongs.”

  I swallowed thickly, letting the absolute conviction I heard in his voice act as a salve to the parts of my soul desperately in need of it.

  He believed what he was saying so much I couldn’t help but put my faith in his words. Carlos had been upfront and truthful about everything else already, even things he would’ve been better off keeping to himself. Would he really lie now? About this? My heart knew the answer before anything else, and I felt my body relaxing against his. In response, his grip softened, and he brushed another sweet, slow kiss against my lips before he squeezed the same spot on my hip again.

  “Creed,” was my answer to his unspoken question.

  Carlos tensed, muscles flexing beneath my fingertips, whole body vibrating with quiet menace. Once more, I was amazed how quickly he could go from sex on a stick to vengeful protector. Even if he was pointing his anger in the wrong direction, I appreciated it nonetheless.

  It was nice to have someone so wholly in my corner. So deeply committed to me and only me that they would be enraged on my behalf, no questions asked.

  I chuckled, suddenly happy beyond belief, almost giddy. He blinked, putting a brief pause in whatever machinations he was concocting in order to look at me like I was crazy. And maybe I was. Crazy for him, anyway. Because if someone had told me two weeks ago that I would be capable of laughing while being topless in a man’s arms I would’ve scowled them right back into whatever drug fueled dream they had escaped from. Or stabbed them.

  Okay, who was I kidding? I definitely would’ve stabbed them and that only made my body shake more intensely with muted laughter.

  “I feel like I missed a joke,” he complained, looking none too pleased with me for maybe the second time in our short history. “There is nothing funny to me about you being hurt. Nothing.”

  Even his pouty, anger face did funny things to the organ inside my chest. God, I was so screwed.

  “It’s a
little bit funny,” I said, a sound slipping from my mouth that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Maybe I was hearing things. Or seeing things. Were those actually my hands tugging on the strands of hair at the back of his neck? They had to be, because I knew they were silk soft and slightly curly.

  His jaw tensed and I decided I should go ahead and put him out of his misery before he did something silly like try to get the answers directly from Creed.

  I had no doubt there was a pile of skeletons somewhere in Carlos’s closet. No matter his connections, achieving the spot he held in the Cartel meant blood and death and carnage. But there was a difference between dipping your toes into a pool of sin and jumping into a lake of fire.

  He had no business down there and I could admit, if only to myself, I cared too much to subject him to such a fate.

  Beyond that, the last thing I needed was both of them being at each other’s throats if whatever this thing was between us was going to continue. Which was a whole new can of worms I wasn’t going to open quite yet.

  I squeezed him between my thighs without warning, reminding him of where he was. His eyes flared and some of the tension left his body.

  “We were doing bladework,” I said softly, taking a moment to inhale the scent of his skin. There was a bit of smoke clinging to him but not enough to overpower his signature spice. I closed my eyes and held it in my lungs like a drug I needed to survive. “As much as I appreciated Tex showing me how to shoot, after the night they saved me...you could say I had found my calling with sharp objects.”

  One of his fingers tapped a staccato rhythm against my skin which I took as a sign to continue. That and the way his breathing evened out and he relaxed further against me.

  “Once Creed realized I could be as stubborn as he is when I set my mind on something, he decided to show me what it’s really like to fight with, and against, someone using a knife.” Carlos picked me up, treating my weight like it was nothing, and carried me back into the living room before dropping to the sofa with me straddling him. My eyes crossed at the feel of him beneath me and I bit my lip to maintain my focus. “I probably don’t need to say it, but he’s not exactly a gentle teacher.”