Storm of Sin - Patricia D. Eddy Page 0,43

a view of half the city. Cradling the cup of coffee like it’s the elixir of life itself, he doesn’t move a single muscle unnecessarily as he takes a sip.

“I just brewed a fresh pot,” he says, his gaze never leaving the skyline. “A courier will be here within the hour with clothing for you, but I am afraid I have little to no actual food here. If you tell me what you’d like, I will have it delivered.”

I’ve just walked into an episode of The Twilight Zone.

“You had someone go buy me clothing?”

Slowly, he turns his head and focuses on me. The power in his blue eyes hits me square in the chest, and I take a step back.

“You would prefer to go into work wearing only my shirt? That can be arranged.”

“I owe you an apology, then,” I mutter as I pour myself a cup of coffee so strong, I’m actively wary of the first sip. “Clearly I took the ‘right’ side of the bed last night. You definitely got up on the ‘wrong’ one.”

Sin cages me against the counter before I realize he’s moved, and the mug slips from my hand. He catches it, but not before the hot liquid splashes my fingers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters and spins me towards the sink, wrenches the faucet, and thrusts my hand under cold water. “I do not know how to do this, Zoe.”

“Do what? Avoid spilling coffee all over your partner? That’s pretty damn simple. Do. Not. Touch. Me.”

“I cannot help it.” His breath stutters, drawing my focus to his chest—and the heavily scarred but still damn sexy eight-pack ending in a v at his waistband. “I am drawn to you in a way I have never felt before.”

“You’re hungry,” I whisper. “That’s all this is.”

“Perhaps. But I can control my appetites. What I feel for you is different.” He shuts off the water and carefully dries my hand. “Does it still hurt?”

“No. Not...really.” Hurt isn’t the word. When Sin touches my fingers, little sparks of electricity run up and down my arm. He’s not the only one who doesn’t know what the hell is going on here. “Scale of one to ten. How hungry are you right now?”

“Six.” Tipping my chin up, he meets my gaze. “You can tell by the color of my eyes. By how much red they contain. A ring around the blue means I have a day or more before I am compromised. When they turn completely red, that is when you must worry.”

“They were red yesterday in the garage.” He’s still touching me. Still holding me, and dammit, I don’t want him to stop.

Twirling a thick curl around one of his fingers, he inhales deeply. “And then you kissed me.”

“You told me you could save our lives. I...had to. It was perfunctory.”

“All you had to do was let me siphon off some of your energy. Instead of a simple kiss, you practically threw yourself at me. It was...far beyond perfunctory.” Dipping his head, he brushes his lips to mine. “And most unforgettable.”

“It can’t ever happen again,” I breathe, and whatever magic was flowing between us vanishes in a heartbeat.

A chime sounds, followed by a short knock. Sin releases me, turns on his heel, and strides down the hall. After a brief exchange of male voices, the door shuts again. “Your clothing,” he says, dropping a bag on the floor at my feet before walking away.

And then I hear him start the shower. I’m so fucking turned on, I’m halfway down the hall before I stop myself. This has to be a side effect of letting him feed from me. I need to wash him off, figuratively and literally.

Each step causes Sin’s shirt to rub against my over-sensitized nipples. Would he notice if I got myself off in the shower? If I don’t, I’m not sure I’ll be able to concentrate at all today, and there are still two demons out there hunting people. In the guest bedroom, I spread out the clothing he bought, then catch sight of the clock on the nightstand.

It’s still early—not even 8:00 a.m.—and the distance between us, as short as it is, allows me to think. We were attacked around 5:00 last night and once we got back here, we never checked in with Commander Eve. Did anyone go to Loup Noir?

Rushing down the hall before I realize what I’m doing, I burst into Sin’s bathroom. He’s in the glass-walled shower, his dick in his hand, and his