A Necessary Sin, Page 6

  Perfect. He’s going to be an arse. “Leave her alone.”

  “Since when did you start branching outside of the brotherhood?”

  Things could become very unsafe for Bleu if he keeps talking. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Aww, she’s doesn’t know who you are. You haven’t told her you come from one of the most notorious families in Edinburgh. No … make that in Scotland. She has no idea your father is a sadistic crime lord and one day you’ll be his replacement.”

  Buchanan strokes his finger down Bleu’s bare arm. “Sweetheart, the man you’re with is a deplorable criminal. He lies, steals, and kills. And that’s just the shortlist.”

  I hate hearing him say those things to Bleu but I hate seeing his hands on her more. “Don’t touch her.”

  Bleu looks at his hand and then at his face. “I’m giving you a warning and then an entire second to take your hand off me before I break it.”

  “You just threatened the deputy chief constable of the organized crime unit.” Buchanan’s hand moves down Bleu’s arm to her leg. “I could take you in for that alone.”

  He’s threatening Bleu. I’m sure she’s frightened but I’m not. I move toward him, prepared for what might happen next. “I said, take your hand off her.”

  I don’t take a full step toward them before Bleu goes for his balls. I see the rotation of her wrist and know exactly what’s she’s doing. Buchanan yells out in pain and drops to his knees. “Take me in if you like. I’d rather enjoy hearing the tale you’d weave about how a young American female tourist came to have your balls twisted in a dance club.”

  I don’t take another step because I see that my assistance isn’t necessary. Bleu’s totally got this.

  “Let go!” he hisses through clenched teeth.

  Bleu releases him and he falls against the floor into the fetal position. She swings her legs around and steps over him as she gets out of the booth. “I believe I’ve been delighted by his presence long enough.”

  She loops her arm through mine as we exit the club. It’s surprising. She seems to be taking the news of my crime-family background rather well, as she isn’t running away. Maybe she thinks it’s bullshit.

  We’re driving to her flat and I’m waiting for her to bring up the things Buchanan said. She doesn’t disappoint. “Is that stuff true? Are you part of an organized crime family? Or organization? Or whatever that jackass was talking about?”

  I guess I could lie. She knows no one in these parts so she’d probably never be privy to the reality but I find I prefer to tell her the truth. Nothing about her is typical so I’m curious to see her reaction. And test her. “My father is the patriarch of our family and an organization called The Fellowship. Some people call us a gang. We’ve been referred to as mobsters or Mafia. I don’t care for any of those names. We’re Scotsmen—not Italians—so clan or kinship is much more fitting.”

  “Do you do those things he accused you of? Lie? Steal?” She hesitates before saying the last. “Kill?”

  “I’m in the business of boundaries and limits. I’m aware of what mine are and how far I’m willing to go to get my job accomplished. It can include lying and sometimes stealing.” I wait a moment for driving the last nail into the coffin. “And perhaps the occasional killing.”

  “How do you feel when you do those things?”

  “Powerful.” I purposely choose that word because it’s the one she used to describe how she felt when she brought Duff to his knees. I want her to see just how similar we are.

  She watches out the window for a minute before speaking again. “Do you like the way it feels?”

  I can’t lie. I get a high from it. “Very much.”

  Another minute passes. “Okay.”

  What? “Just … okay?”

  “Would you like me to be horrified?” she asks. “I can do that if it would make you feel better or improve your opinion of me.”

  She’s no fucking Pollyanna. So I guess there’s no reason for her to pretend to be. “No. Okay works for me.”

  I’m not sure if I should be disturbed by her lack of appall. It feels like a double standard to be shocked by an absence of dismay.

  My God, has the pot met the kettle? “I wish I could get inside your head.”

  “No, you don’t,” she says. “My mind is a dark place to be.”

  I think I may have met the perfect woman. In her eyes, I’m not a monster at all.

  Chapter Seven

  Bleu MacAllister

  I stop when we reach my front door. My hand pressed against Sin’s chest is my signal for him to understand he won’t be coming in. “Thank you for tonight. I had a very good time.”

  “Again?” He sighs and rubs his hands down my arms. “I’m not invited to come inside?”

  I grin while shaking my head. “You aren’t ready.”

  “I suspect it’s you who isn’t ready because I know for damn sure I am.” He’s going to kiss me. I know he is. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

  He’s trying so hard. It’s sort of sweet in a way, even though he is trying to get me into bed. “I have no doubt you will, but it won’t be tonight.”

  “I want to kiss you.” He comes closer, invading my personal space. “That’s something I never have a desire to do.”

  I suppose one kiss won’t hurt. It’s probably a good idea to throw a dog a bone, even if it’s a small one.

  I hold up one of my fingers. “One bite of the apple. That’s all you get.”

  The corner of his mouth turns up and a small dimple appears. I’ve not noticed that until now. It’s sexy as hell.

  My God, he’s a handsome devil.

  His eyes are beautiful, like melted dark chocolate.

  His hands go to my waist and pull me tightly against him. Our mouths are impossibly close yet not touching. We make a sport of it, almost like tug of war. One advances, the other retreats. We alternate until his lips finally brush mine and it’s a game to me no more. I want to taste him.

  I move my hands up his arms, over his broad, muscular shoulders. His lips meet mine and I open my mouth, inviting his tongue inside. They’re soft and wet gliding together. He tastes likes whisky. And I love it.

  His hand moves to the hem of my dress and creeps up my thighs. That’s more than the one bite I promised, so I grab his wrist. “You’re being a very bad boy.”

  “The only thing that’s bad is how much I want to touch you.”

  I push his hand away. “I know you do—and you will—but not until you come to understand full circle what it is I want and need.”

  “Bonny Bleu, I can make you feel so fucking good if you’ll just let me.” His hand is back to working its way up my dress. “Isn’t that what all of this is about? Pleasuring you?”

  I let his fingers skim my silky panties before forcing his hand away. “It most definitely is but if you understood anything about what I need, you’d be able to predict that I don’t want it while standing outside my front door for all of my neighbors to see.”

  He growls in frustration. “Then let me come in.”

  “Says the big bad wolf.”

  He steps back and clasps his hands over the top of his head. “Your game confuses me. You act as though you want to be properly fucked but you have all these stipulations to go along with the manner in which it’s done.” He moves his hands down his face. “It’s fucking exhausting,” he growls.

  He’s becoming annoyed. I’m losing him. I think he’s growing tired of the waiting game so I have to reel him in again. “Being properly fucked is worth the wait because when it’s good, it’s very good.”

  I need to step up my plan, force his hand.

  Sin doesn’t take women to his home—ever. It would be a huge concession for him to do so. He needs a really good reason to want to take me there. “It sounds silly but the truth is that I sort of get creeped out thinking about having sex in Aunt Edy’s flat since it’s where she passed away.”

  “No storage rooms. No
offices. No flats where dead people could be walking around. Should I be aware of any other places you can’t have sex?” He’s laughing at me again. Good. I prefer that over annoyance.

  “If I asked you to take me to your bed after our next date and make love to me, would you?”

  “I don’t take women to my house. And I don’t make love.”

  “Would you if it pleased me?” I want to plant the idea that taking me into his bed will conquer half the battle.

  He doesn’t answer immediately but I can tell he’s thinking it over. “I might be able to find a way to make an exception this one time.”

  I’m surprised he gave in so easily. “Good. I’m off Thursday and Friday.”

  “Fuck, no! That’s five days from now.”

  I shrug, pretending I don’t know what the problem is. “And?”

  He’s shaking his head. “No way. That’s entirely too long to wait.”

  Really? Five days is nothing. “Anticipation is one of the best forms of foreplay.”

  I’m certain he doesn’t agree, based on his expression. “Ugh!” he groans. “Mmm … I’m going to kiss the hell out of you right now and you’re not going to tell me I can’t.”

  He doesn’t give me the opportunity to refuse. I’m yanked into his arms, my body slamming against his. His mouth devours mine, consuming me from the outside inward.

  His hands are on my ass, squeezing my cheeks, almost painfully so. He’s borderline lifting me, the tips of my toes barely grazing the ground. I think he’ll have me lifted with my legs wrapped around him at any minute. But then he releases me. And I’m disappointed. I liked what he was doing.

  “You better be worth all this work and waiting.” He nips my bottom lip and gives my ass another painful squeeze before turning to walk to his car.

  Anticipation—it builds excitement and suspense. The brain really is a sexual organ, even for men. Sin is going to spend the next five days and nights fantasizing about what it’ll be like when he finally has me beneath him. Waiting is something he’s never had to do so this is another way of setting me apart from the others before me. It proves I’m worth the wait and far more than just fuckworthy.

  This is happening much faster than I anticipated. It’s coming down to the wire and I have to mentally prep myself if I’m going to be ready to do this in a mere five days.

  He thinks our only reason for coming together is for sex, but it’s going to be about so much more. I need him to feel a bond. It’s something I’ve never had with a man before so I’m not sure I can pull it off.

  As one would expect, making yourself an island prevents you from forming emotional and physical connections. That translates into me never having had an intimate relationship with a man. I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin and my first sexual encounter is going to be with the son of my mother’s killer.

  It’s sick, but all part of my plan to make him fall in love with me.

  I’ve convinced him I’m some sort of sexual butterfly but I wonder what he’s going to think when he realizes he is the first man to ever have me. I anticipate it going one of two ways: either he’ll be pissed and storm out because I’m not the experienced woman he’s expecting, or he’ll be so taken by being the one and only that he’ll do everything in his power to keep it that way.

  I’m hoping for the latter.

  * * *

  The days are closing in quickly and I’m growing increasingly nervous about my approaching deflowering. I sort of know what to expect, yet I don’t. I can only think of one person in this world I can talk to about sex—my sister.

  “Oh God, Bleu. I’m so happy to hear from you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to get away to call or not.” She understands it isn’t always possible for me to call home.

  “I’m so happy to hear your voice. You’re good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s work?” I say.

  “The golden child got the day shift, so I’m still stuck on twelve-hour nights. But I expected it, so I’m not too disappointed.” Elli had put in for days just before I left. I’m bummed for her that she didn’t get it.

  “At least it’s never boring.” It’s my attempt at being positive.

  “Right. The freaks come out at night, especially in the ER. A dude came in last night—he’d shoved a bag of coke up his ass when he got pulled over. Retrieving that was a load of fun. I promise you I do not get paid enough for that shit.”

  My sister’s wit and charm is effortless. She makes everyone laugh and is adored by all. I wish I were more like her.

  “I know you can’t tell me anything about your assignment but are you at least enjoying wherever you are?”

  “I am. It’s beautiful here.”

  “Tell me you’re on a tropical island, mingling with beautiful male criminals who wear togas and feed you grapes while you lounge in the sun.”

  We always play this game. “Yes. I’m in Hawaii investigating a rich, handsome man. I’m staying with him at his extravagant beachfront home where I have servants at my beck and call but I mostly lie on the beach all day.”

  “Ahh … being pampered by criminals is so much better than digging in their asses. I want your job instead of mine. Is it too late for a career change?”

  There’s no way Princess Ellison could hang with my kind of criminals. “You should definitely look into it.”

  “Seriously, is everything okay? You don’t sound like your usual self.” She knows me so well.

  “No, but is it ever?”

  “Can you tell me what’s wrong or is it top secret?”

  I can give Elli a portion of this story. The other part will have to be fictitious. “I’ve met someone.”

  “Bleu! You have to tell me everything! Is he handsome? Rich? When did you meet him? And how?”

  “Yes. Yes. Not long ago. And in a bar.”

  “Ooh … exciting. Tell me more.”

  “He’s Scottish.”

  “Shut up! You’re in Scotland?”

  “I didn’t say that.” This job isn’t FBI-related so I think I can divulge a little more information than usual. “But yes, I am.”

  “Oh … you’re in love with a Scotsman.” I did not say I was in love. “Do you orgasm every time he speaks?”

  “Almost.”

  “Does he wear anything under his kilt? I hear real Scotsmen don’t.” Leave it to Elli to ask something like that.

  “Sorry. No kilt.”

  “Well, that’s disappointing.”

  Tell me about it. I’d probably have an orgasm and die if I saw Sin wearing one. “I’ve only seen him in a suit. But he looks hotter than a freshly fucked fox in a forest fire.”

  “Ooh, sista … that’s some serious hot.” She has no idea.

  “So … I sort of have a reason for calling.”

  “You’re gonna do it with him, aren’t you?” She giggles. “Or are you already doing it?”

  God, she sounds like a teenager. “Gonna.”

  She squeals loudly enough, I have to take the phone away from my ear. “Then I know you are seriously crazy about this guy if you’re finally giving it up.” Well, not exactly.

  “I’m scared.” That part’s no lie.

  “Does he treat you well?”

  He’s been good to me for the short amount of time we’ve known one another. One might not expect that from a man like Sin who’s accustomed to using women only for his own pleasure. “So far. He’s patient, kind, and very eager to please me.” The eager to please isn’t exactly voluntary.

  “Then he’ll take care of you in bed.” She’s right. I’ve worked it out so this will probably be the best first-time experience anyone could have.

  “What should I expect?” I feel so juvenile.

  “It’s been a while but I remember it was sharp at first and then it ached, almost like a cramping sensation. It didn’t really feel too good but you have to remember that my first time was with Chris. He didn’t know shit from Shinola.”

  “I’m p
ositive Sinclair will know shit from Shinola.”

  “Ooh … you’re gonna be getting it on a with a Scotsman called Sinclair. I think I’m jealous.”

  “Everyone calls him Sin.”

  “Even better.”

  Elli had quite the blossoming romance before I left. “Tell me about your doctor friend.”

  “Yeah … that’s not gonna be working out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want to join him with his … partner.”

  What does that mean? “Partner, as in the one from his medical practice, or partner, as in he had another girlfriend?”

  “Neither.”

  “Ohh.”

  “Yeah. I was never down with a threesome but I didn’t think much of it when he asked. I was unconcerned because I thought most guys had fantasies about being with two women at once. I found out it wasn’t a woman he wanted to bring in and it made me start suspecting if the threesome was really a twosome and I was the spectator. So I told him to fuck off.”

  Wow. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m mostly sorry because I have to see him at work. It’s awkward. I’m afraid he’s gonna tell somebody. He’s afraid I’m gonna tell everybody. I’m thinking of transferring out of the ER so I don’t have to see him anymore.”

  “You shouldn’t have to give up a job you like because of him.”

  “It has less to do with him and more to do with me being burned out.”

  “Then you should look for another job.”

  “It’s not just my job. I’m tired of Memphis in general. I’d leave if Dad weren’t sick.”

  “I talked to him a couple days ago. He sounded like he felt good.” But I can never tell over the phone.

  “He’s doing well. Looking good. Says he feels better than he has in weeks.”

  I feel so guilty for not being with him but at least everything is going okay. “He has a burner. Use it to contact me if anything happens.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m not kidding. Don’t hesitate to call. Something happens and I’m on the first plane back.”

  “I know you will be.”