Sinners Anonymous (Sinners Anonymous, #1)

by Somme Sketcher

I learned quickly it’s better to vent my frustrations silently, usually by balling my fists until my fingernails carve half-moons into my palms. Oh, and spitting in his mouthwash.

When I get in my car and flick my wipers on full speed, I look up and see Aurora still standing on the porch. It’s growing dark, and the glow from the foyer turns her into nothing more than a dark silhouette. But when I swing the car around, my headlights wash over her. And for the first time since we met, I see her smile. I think I like it when she smiles.

Jump, she repeated. Because when you jump, you’ll find your wings as you fall. I glanced up at my father, who was hovering nervously on the bank, clutching a life buoy. I swallowed the fear rising up my throat, balled my fists, and I jumped. Not because I thought I’d miraculously be able to fly, but because I knew that if I fell and couldn’t get back up my parents would always be there to save me. I owe them the same. And while I couldn’t save my mom from the cancer, I sure as hell will save my father from Alberto Visconti.

His gaze scorches my back. “Aurora.” I come to a reluctant stop and tilt my head to the sky. “I don’t care what Alberto says. Wear your hair curly.”

“Promise me something, Rory.” I feel her pulse flicker against my thumb. “What?” she whispers. “We’ll find him before your wedding.” She pauses. “Why?” “Because seeing you in your engagement dress is hard enough. But seeing you in your wedding dress?” A growl vibrates deep within me. I tighten my grip. “That’ll be fucking torture.”

I should have told him that it won’t come to that. He won’t have to choose because we drew a line in the sand. But that’s the thing about lines in the sand. Eventually, they wash away, and you can’t remember where you drew them.

“Holy crow, the radar display is massive.” “That’s what all the girls say.”

“I thought capos take what they want.” He grunts, irritation crossing the planes of his face. “What I want, is for you to be happy.” I’m about to let out a snarky retort, but he cuts me off by fisting my hair and clamping his lips against mine. “Not just regular happy. I mean really fucking happy,” he growls into my mouth, palming my ass to pull me on top of him. “Can’t stop fucking smiling, don’t want to go to sleep because reality is better than your dreams kind of happy. I want to make you so damn happy that you shit sunshine and piss rainbows and people think you’re as high as a kite when you walk into a room.” He nips my lower lip in mild frustration, and his fingers dig deep into the back of my thighs as he slides me up to his groin. “If you want to be mine, I’ll make you that happy, Rory.” Pleasure floats down my spine like a ghost as his cock swells between my lips. “And if I don’t?” He pauses, lifts his hand to grip my chin and forces me to meet his molten gaze. “I’ll get on my knees and beg you until you get so sick of me you agree to be mine anyway.”