Sinners Consumed (Sinners Anonymous, #3)

by Somme Sketcher

A bolt of lightning fissures the space between us. Before the thunder comes, I run toward him. It’s not until my face is buried in his neck that I realize he’s picked me up, his strong forearms caging me to him as he takes me into his quarters. A gentle hand runs down my braid. Soothing words touch the shell of my ear, drowning out the next rumble of thunder. He lowers me to his bed, pulls me into his chest, and traps us under the covers. I press my face against his chest and his fingers find purchase in the base of my hair. His other hand slides down my spine, traces the stupid heart on the small of my back, and a rough noise of approval vibrates behind his solar plexus. When the next lightning bolt comes, it flashes through the sheets. Rafe brings his palms to my ears, dulling the impending roll of thunder. “Thank you,” I whisper. I don’t specify what for. For shielding me from the storm, for killing Martin O’Hare. For giving me the two most ridiculous orgasms of my life. For the fucking key ring. But the thunder is loud; my acknowledgment is quiet. The only reason I know Rafe heard it is that his lips press down on my forehead, giving me the most gentle of kisses.