Leaning against the concrete wall of Andromeda, my body slid to the floor, already exhausted for the day. Sitting on the asphalt, I kicked my legs out in front of me and lit up a cigarette.
Weeks had passed since I’d indulged, Cain’s voice ringing in my head whenever I thought to have one, chastising me with the reminder that smoking kills. But after yesterday’s all day fuck-fest, and this morning’s pity party from feeling guilty, I felt like I deserved one to calm my nerves.
Inhaling, I let the smoke settle in my mouth for a moment before opening my lips just enough for it to billow out. My eyes closed, and for several minutes, I just relaxed with my head against the building and the cigarette dangling from my fingers.
The rumble of a motorcycle approaching in the distance cut through the otherwise stale air. I didn’t bother opening my eyes as it pulled closer and came to a stop. The engine cut, and gravel crunched beneath heavy footsteps.
“Hiding?” Sly’s smooth voice questioned. He swooped the cig out from between my fingers.
Opening my eyes, I found him crouching down next to me, taking a drag.
“Maybe.” I took the cigarette as he passed it back, bringing it to my lips.
Sly settled on the ground next to me with one leg outstretched and the other bent. “I’m here to listen if you need to speak.”
“How pissed are you?” I blurted. “That I didn’t do anything to stop Cain from throwing you out of his room…naked?”
An echo of laughter erupted through Sly’s lips, and he shook his head animatedly. “No, mia preferita, I am not mad at you. I amproudof you.”
“Proud?”
“Sì.” Sly reached over and grabbed the cigarette butt from my hand and tossed it to the floor. With his boot, he snuffed it out, then reached for my hand. He pulled it to his lips and kissed the back of it. “You finally stopped allowing fear to hold your heart in its grasp, and you are letting happiness in.”
“Cain literally threw you out on your naked ass, Sly. You have to be a little mad about that.”
“He did, but it was a move I anticipated him to make. Why do you think I hesitated to push myself into you, amore mio? I waswaitingfor him to allow his fear to stop holding him, and to fully claim what is his.”
I glared at him, not loving the way he insinuated that I was property. He laughed in response and added, “So to speak, mia preferita. So to speak.”
Nodding, I pulled my gaze from him and stared out into the street in front of Andromeda. It was a bright and sunny day, though the air was still a little crisp. The streets were quiet for a Monday afternoon, but the rumble of several motorcycles could be heard in the distance.
“Are the guys on their way?” I asked.
“Sì. Cain’s called for a Church meeting. Damon needs to speak.”
“About what?”
One by one, the Sinners arrived and filled the front row of my parking lot, my question left unanswered. They took their time, cutting their engines, pulling off their helmets. Cain was the first off his bike and he trudged his way to me with a smirk on his lips.
His hair was messy from his helmet, his eyes bright.
Reaching down, his fingers circled my wrist, and he pulled me to my feet so quickly my body slammed into his. Grabbing my chin between his fingers and thumb so he could tip my head, Cain’s lips found mine, and he stole my breath with a kiss filled with passion and ferocity. It instantly set my blood on fire.
Whistles and whoops sounded around us, and instead of pulling away, Cain kissed me harder, his free hand finding my lower back, keeping me to him.
When we broke, we were both a little breathless.
“Hi,” he said quietly, his forehead pressed to mine.
I smiled at the simpleness of his tone. “Hey.”
As he turned back to face his men, his fingers laced with mine. He addressed them with a stern seriousness that wasn’t there seconds ago. “Church is in ten. Whatever you need to do first, do it now.”
Cain let them know the conversation was cut off by turning back to me, a hint of mischief behind the sparkle in his eyes. I’d acquainted myself with that look over and over again yesterday.
Running my hand up the front of his chest, my fingers grazed against the soft worn leather of his vest and danced across the patches of insignia. “So, ten minutes, huh? You didn’t leave us much time.”
He caught my wrist as it dipped to the waist of his jeans and used it to tug me forward again. His lips grazed my ear as he leaned down. “Oh, baby, ten minutes is plenty of time for what I have planned for you. They’re called a quickie for a reason.”
