The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,102

Then he’s up against me with the wall of his body, pressing me to the wet tiles.

“What, suddenly my dick isn’t good enough for you anymore?” he growls. “And here I thought I’d do something nice for you.”

Astonishment turns my bones to jelly.

He studies me for a second, and then slowly peels his fingers from my mouth. “Jesus, I’d have been fucked off with you if you’d gotten me in the nuts,” he mutters.

“Nice?” I say, my voice violin-string tight. “Nice?”

He slaps his hand over my mouth again. “Keep. It. Down,” he growls through his teeth.

I almost try and knee him again, but I have a feeling that would be the worst way to handle this fucked up situation.

He removes his hand again and steps back. I twist my legs and slap an arm over my breasts in a lame attempt at modesty as I start shaking. Not that it actually matters. His hands were all over me. Almost inside me. And I—I was—I’d had his…

His eyes slide down my wet skin. “You cold?”

“Sure. Let’s go with that.” I circle him warily as I move to the frosted glass doors.

I can’t believe I let him touch me. I can’t believe I almost let him fuck me.

I step onto the mat outside and reach blindly for a towel. Cass shifts as if he wants to get out too, but I lift my chin and widen my eyes at him.

“Don’t you dare,” I whisper furiously. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He rakes his fingernails over his buzz cut, eyes narrowing. Then he brings up his hand and licks each of his fingertips, popping them out of his mouth one at a time. “Hate me all you want, your cunt is crushing hard on me.”

“Get out.”

He shrugs and slowly gets out of the shower. Unbidden, my eyes dart over his body as my mouth sets in a furious, trembling line.

Motherfucker.

Then I see the burn marks scattered over his muscles. I thought I’d felt something when my fingertips had skimmed his abs but I’d been too lost in his kiss.

Cass grabs the other towel and slings it around his waist. “So you wanna fuck in the bedroom or on the couch?” he asks as a wicked grin slides onto his mouth.

“Get out!” I stab a finger at the door.

He chuckles as he leaves the bathroom, but the sound cuts off as soon as I kick the door closed behind him with a strangled yell.

I should be shocked. Terrified even. But I’m just fucking angry.

How dare he?

How fucking dare he?

The worst part is, my body hasn’t caught up yet. I’m still aching inside, and the more I move about trying to get my wits about me, the worse it gets. I feel like I’m going to implode.

Fuck.

I glare up at the ceiling, bite down on my lip, squeeze closed my eyes, and shove a hand between my legs.

But I wrench it away before I touch myself, shame worming through every inch of me.

I deserve this frustration for being such an idiot. Priests remain celibate all the time. Nothing to it.

I dry off and dress, and as I’m about to leave the bathroom, I hear Reuben’s apartment door opening.

Thank God. At least I don’t have to face him. My hand is on the door handle when I hear voices.

“What are you doing here?” Reuben asks.

I freeze, straining to hear through the door.

“Lady Malone needed a shower. I’m her escort.”

“Your hair is wet.”

“And?”

“Why is your hair wet?”

“I had a shower too.”

My chest clenches so tight, I can barely breathe.

“Alone?”

“That would be wasting water,” Cass says through a laugh. “It was her idea.”

I bolt out of the bathroom. “He’s lying!”

Reuben turns his frown onto me. He’s wearing jeans and a tight-fitting sweater. Standing next to each other like that, it’s ridiculous to think I’d confused Cass for Reuben. They’re close in height, but Reuben’s almost twice his size.

Oh, you knew, you blasphemous little slut.

The immoral, sinful, hedonistic part of me I always suppress figured it out right away, but the bitch kept silent until it was too late. Until I was so caught up in—

“So you didn’t shower together?” Reuben asks, glancing back at Cass.

“No. I mean, we did, but—”

Reuben drops his gaze. “You should leave. I’m busy with an assignment.”

“It wasn’t my idea. He tricked me!”

But he walks into his room without a backward glance. Somehow, it’s worse that he closes the door quietly and doesn’t slam it. Disappointment always hurts so much more than anger.

“Shall we go?” he