Unleashing Sin - A. M. Wilson Page 0,67
the discharge instructions and a new prescription, then we get into my car and start the trek home.
I think back to the beginning of all this to the beaten and broken woman. To the trauma flipping on like a switch and shutting her down in an instant. To the recovery from drugs and the healing from physical pain. The small smiles and sadness fading from her eyes. The strength. The bravery. The slow, agonizing climb.
Each day is a step in the right direction with new information.
I’m more prepared than ever.
In some ways, I’ve found a weakness in Gutierrez’s operation.
Cold, hard information.
And I’m not going to let it go to waste.
Looking at the passenger beside me, her hair blowing with the wind from the cracked window, a slightly troubled expression on her face, I know down to the marrow of my bones that I won’t rest until this is over.
It started with my sister.
It continues with Shelby.
And I will pick them up one by one until there’s nobody left.
Chapter Sixteen
Shelby
Somewhere between the highway and home, I fell asleep. Not just a light doze, no. I passed out and did it hard. I woke up and found myself on Alex’s couch. I look at the windows, the curtains open, something Alex has done since the first time I asked him to leave them, and see the orange glow of streetlights. Which means I’ve been asleep for hours.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Today wasn’t traumatic as much as it was long and tension-filled. Three hours in the car plus an hour of fighting back panic will take it out of a person.
What does surprise me is being on the couch. An argument not too long ago of Alex finding me here, and getting angry about it, replays. So why leave me here to sleep when the bed is steps away? And where is Alex, anyway?
Throwing off the blanket he generously put over me, I swing my legs over the side of the couch. Somewhere along the way, he took off my shoes and socks, but my jeans are uncomfortable and twisted from sleep. I wander sleepily into the bedroom, to the closet, tug off my jeans and swap out my shirt for one of Alex’s tees. As I pull the material over my head, I hear the sound of the shower switching off from the master bathroom. I can’t deny that my heart quiets just a tiny bit knowing he’s close, and I’m not alone.
I slip back into his bedroom, intent to sit on the bed and wait for him to finish his shower, but as I enter, I’m struck by silence. I pad silently to his bed and glance down the short hall to the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar, and I can see Alex.
I can see Alex.
Oh holy hell.
My mouth waters as I take him in, from his damp, black hair, his chiseled back, his towel encased ass, to his bare feet. His torso and skin, awash in colorful ink, lined with deep cuts of muscles. His biceps drawn tight as his hands grip the edge of the vanity. I watch as droplets of water drip from his damp hair, down his neck, running down the valleys and dips of his back, and I have the urge to chase each one with my tongue, stopping their decent before they disappear beneath his towel. The towel, which is hiding what I assume to be a beautiful ass, judging by the rest of his sculpted body. From the reflection of the mirror, his head is dipped, but I can see his chest and abs reflect the same meticulous cuts of muscle, which are only achieved by hours of working out in the gym. Droplets of water cling to his body like morning dew.
My panties are growing increasingly damp. I’m alarmed at how quickly I’m being turned on by my little voyeur act. I should feel perverted; Instead, I rub my thighs together as I watch his reflection. I came here to wait for him so we can sleep, but now that I’ve stumbled upon this, I can’t seem to find it within myself to make my presence known. There is something so hot, so erotic, and even freeing, about watching him without him knowing I’m here.
I slowly lower myself until I’m sitting at the edge of his bed. I can’t look away. And the truth is, I absolutely don’t want to.
Sucking in a sharp breath of air, I clap my hand over my