The Sinners - Ruby Vincent Page 0,16

the frame. Droplets traveled down his body, greedily clinging to skin, traversing the dips and ridges that was his perfect form. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say a thousand talented artists given a thousand years could not draw a man more striking than the one in front of me.

Call it the surge of adrenaline that came with escaping death, my world was in sharp focus. His inky locks iridescent from his shower, appeared blacker than black. His eyes shone brighter than yesterday. Mingling scents of sandalwood, charcoal, and man overwhelmed my senses. And my skin tingled like it never had—sensing Royal in the air and responding outside of my control.

“The shower’s all yours. Clothes and towel by the sink.”

I brushed against him going inside. “Thanks.”

There was another door in the bathroom that likely led to Royal’s room. I tried the handle and found it locked. The other door I left unlocked and cracked open, hoping he’d take the hint.

I stripped off, surrendering to the steamy shower and washing the horrid day down the drain. My dorm shower was filled with fruity shampoos, moisturizing body washes, three kinds of conditioners, and kiwi bubble bath. Royal kept it simple with one brand of shampoo and one type of body wash.

I used both, soaking Royal’s citrusy flavor into my pores. I took my time but Royal didn’t join me. Eventually I got out and donned the big t-shirt and drawstring shorts he left for me.

Royal was in the kitchen when I came out, unwrapping a microwave meal. I snaked my arms around his waist from behind.

“I smell like you now.”

I felt his laugh like my own. “Did you want to?”

Wriggling around, I got between him and the counter. “Yep.”

Royal bent, scraping his teeth over my nose and gently nipping the tip. My knees gave out like snapped twigs. “Lots of ways we can achieve that.”

“Oooh. Tell me more.” I fisted his shorts. By all the stars and good fortune, Royal forewent a shirt and unwittingly seduced me in his half-naked glory. I drew his pants down a little.

Forwent briefs too.

“I’m a ‘show, not tell’ kind of guy.” Royal cupped my thighs and lifted, wrapping my legs around him. He carried me to the armchair and set me down. “I’m making you something to eat. You can watch TV while you wait. Or snoop in my room.”

I sighed. My signals could not be more obvious. Why were we dancing around something we’d done already? I should be bent over in the shower screaming his name.

But snooping in his room does sound tempting.

I tiptoed inside before he changed his mind.

Royal’s bedroom welcomed me with a queen-sized bed. I flung myself on the downy sheets and rolled back and forth, cocooning myself in them. He didn’t have much in his room to arouse scandal. Another television on the dresser. Scattered reflections of his mind sketched and taped to the wall. Photos of a young boy and elderly woman.

Secure in his blanket, I got up for a closer look.

This woman was Royal’s grandmother and Rio’s mother whether she liked it or not. Same eyes. Same hair, though hers was streaked with gray. And the same striking features that age could not diminish. She hugged a little boy with missing teeth and a grin made for mischief.

“Making yourself at home.”

“Maybe a little,” I teased.

“Food’s ready.” Royal tugged the blanket—and me—out of the room. “It’s not much. Haven’t had a chance to go shopping.”

“It’s okay. After we eat, we’ll go to bed.” I shed the blanket, picking up my mac-n-cheese from the coffee table.

“Bed? It’s barely eleven. I’m not tired.”

I answered with no shame. “We won’t be sleeping.”

Royal laughed. “Where do you get that sense of absolute certainty from, princess?”

Curling my legs over the arm of the chair, I flashed a grin over my knees. “Why? Do you like it?”

“I don’t hate it.” Royal stretched out on the couch, taking up space with his size and his presence. He balanced his food on one knee and a notebook on the other. “Finish that. You’ll need your strength if we’re gonna not be sleeping.”

He flashed me that grin made for mischief and loaded it with ten kinds of naughty promises that contracted my muscles with pleasure.

That’s what I’m talking about.

I dug in, skipping over the chitchat. We could talk while I was telling him harder, faster, and deeper.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him leisurely eat his food. His attention was focused on the sketchbook. The boy