Sinners Consumed (Sinners Anonymous, #3)

by Somme Sketcher

“Since when did you start drinking vodka?” “Since you said you wouldn’t kiss me if I drank whiskey.”

“What did Blake do?” “Pissed me off.” I swallow. “So you killed him.” His palm presses harder into my stomach, and his chin comes to rest on my shoulder. “He was eyeing something up that doesn’t belong to him.”

“I don’t belong to you, either.” A humorless smirk stretches his lips. “I don’t want you, Penelope.” Before his omission has time to sting, he brings his hand to my jaw and grips me there. “But I’m going to take you anyway, and then I’m going to ruin you.” I blink. “What?” “It’s only fair,” he says, tone devoid of emotion. An awful sense of dread creeps over the planes of my shoulders and squeezes the nape of my neck. “Why?” I breathe. He doesn’t miss a beat. “Because it’s only a matter of time before you ruin me.” I don’t have a comeback, but it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have gotten it out by the time hot hands come down on my hips, lift me up, and carry me out of the room.

“Do me a favor, Penelope,” he growls against my racing pulse. “Unless you’re moaning my name or sucking my dick, keep your fucking mouth shut.” Another tug on my bun, another crackle in my clit. “I’m so sick of the shit that comes out of it.”

I wouldn’t get a please from this man even if he was trying to stop me lighting the world on fire

bite back the humor rising up my throat. I’m not having a breakdown; I’m having a break. Taking a hiatus from pretending everything is fine-and-fucking dandy. How much longer could I have looked out my window to the raging fire outside and convinced myself it’s a beautiful summer’s day? Fuck it. I’ll open the front door and let the flames lick my skin. Let the smoke blacken my insides. My world is on fire, and I want to punish the girl who lit the match.

“He means, he gets why Rafe is obsessed with you now. You talk almost as much shit as he does.”

Numbness claws at my bare thighs, and a tremor ripples down my spine. Suddenly, my focus on the black abyss softens. That tremor…it didn’t come from inside me. “Oh, no, no, no,” I whisper. But before I can retreat, the night’s sky lights up purple, a white flash of lightning streaking through the middle of it. The only thing worse than a thunderstorm is being trapped on a boat in the middle of a thunderstorm. My heart stumbles with every beat, and a clammy sweat clings to my skin. Fumbling with the lock on the door, I press my back against it and squeeze my eyes shut. Luck has all but left you, I try to reassure myself. You haven’t been lucky in weeks. But the next zap of lightning floods the room, bringing all my demons to light. You know how lucky you are, kid? You’re one in a million. One in a million. The thunder rumbles under the carpet as I bolt out of the library. It follows me through the study, into a living room. When I crash out into the corridor, I stop short. At the end of it, Rafe’s large silhouette consumes the shadows, his door clicking shut behind him. His gaze finds mine, something too soft to crack my heart dancing in the middle of it. Somehow, it does anyway. He steps into the path of light streaming through a porthole, and I realize he’s naked. He holds something between his thumb and forefinger. A single die. “Choose a number.” A strangled noise escapes me. He takes another step forward, voice firmer now. “A number, Queenie.” “Five,” I blurt out. H...

“What’s this? A flying visit to repent for your sins?” I run my fingers through her hair, before tucking all the loose strands behind her ear. “No, I’m conducting an experiment.” She cocks a suspicious brow. “I’m going to throw you inside and see if you catch fire.” Her laugh is croaky. “If I burn in the flames of hell, you’ll burn with me.” Don’t I know it.

Something sweet and sickly blooms in my chest. She can have my drink. Fuck, she can have it all. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give her, and that’s the problem.

Bad things don’t last forever. They can’t. Not my game with the Queen of Hearts. Not an enemies-with-benefits relationship—especially not between a girl who believes love is a trap and a man who chose the King of Diamonds. This won’t last forever. And then what? I’ll have to pick myself up from the ashes and start afresh.

There’s another name for what this is, and it doesn’t belong to us. It’s permanent to our temporary; serious to our casual.

I’m deranged. Despite knowing this is temporary, has to be temporary, I know I’d give this girl the world on a silver platter, if she just said please like she does now when she wants to come.

I’ve no time to do anything but laugh and wonder what the weather is like in hell today.

“I don’t care how lucky you think you are,” he murmurs. “To me, you’re the unluckiest girl in the world.” Instinct pulls me away from him, but he only tightens his grip on my neck. “But you’re also the prettiest. The funniest. The fucking rudest. You’ve ruined my life but I’m not strong enough to stop you.”

“If I drown, you’re drowning with me. If you burn, I’m burning too. Pick your route to hell, Rafe. The destination and the company are the same.”

But the thing about make-believe is, you can’t play it forever.

I prop myself up on my elbow and inspect it. It’s a card wrapped in a piece of paper. I unravel the paper and realize it’s a check for a million dollars. Then my eyes fall to the business card. To the number I know by heart, then to the written words that I don’t. I own Sinners Anonymous. I’m sorry. Rafe.

I 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.

“I told you to choose your route to hell, Rafe,” I say quietly. “It’s not my fault you chose the long way ’round.”

“I love you,” she whispers when she reaches my ear. And that? That’s enough to set my skin on fucking fire.

My heart has caught fire, and I’m in love with the Queen who lit the match.