Sinners Consumed (Sinners Anonymous, #3)

by Somme Sketcher

One-morning-stands hurt.

He smirks. “Give him your bitter monologue about love being a trap—he’ll get the hint pretty quickly.”

“You trying to get rid of me, or something?” His dark laugh caresses me like silk. “Or something.”

“I can’t stand you, baby. Look what you do to me.” His next thrust feels like a punishment. “You turn me into a fucking animal.”

Maybe it’s only because the heels I’m wearing are a couple inches taller than usual and all this height is giving me new confidence, but I curl my finger around his collar pin and yank him toward me. “Call another woman darling again, and she’ll die crossing the road.”

“Fuck Raphael Visconti,” Matt mutters, flopping back on the sofa and putting his feet up on the coffee table. “Fuck him, and fuck his shitty dating advice. What does he know, anyway?

“What’s going on?” Matt asks. “It’s Rafe.” The sofa groans under him. “Shit. Do you think he heard what I said about him?”

“All right. Get out before you piss yourself.” Matt doesn’t even glance back at me before bounding out of my apartment. Fucking traitor.

He moves up to my throat again, smiling against it. “No? Then what do you want? Diamonds? A car? Two cars? An island, Queenie? A Birkin in every color? Fuck,” He licks the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I’ll give you the world in every color if you want it.” I can’t help but grunt a noise of approval. It’s the hustler in me, I guess. “Yes.” “Yes to what?” “All of it.”

“I’ll screw up my nose and call him an asshole from now on. Or dickhead, or prick. Whatever you choose.”

“Go get dressed.” “I am dressed.” He glances back at me. “Not for dinner, you’re not.” “I’ve had dinner,” I lie. In the reflection of the window, I see his jaw tighten. “I’m sure you’ll fit in another.” “Are you calling me fat?” He practically punches the tap off. “Baby, I’m calling you a girl who eats two dinners every single night. That’s just a fact. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” He turns, leans against the sink, and studies me. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

I love this entire passage

stare at his profile, emotion swelling in my throat. “Why are you bothering?” His gaze is lazy, trained on the windshield as he pulls out onto the road. “Because I love you,” he says simply.