Page 31 of Untamed Sinner

Like evidence of my complete loss of control—a trophy I have no right to keep.

Still naked, still hard, I lie down on the bed and stare at the ceiling, my body still humming with the aftershocks of release. My mind is clearer now, sharper, and the truth settles over me like a weight.

She's winning.

She knows exactly what she's doing, and she's winning. Every move she makes is calculated to unravel me, and it's working. I'm coming apart at the seams, and she's the one holding the thread.

The worst part?

I don't care, I think as I take my cock in my hand again.

31

MANDY

Imay not have a vibrator, but I found a small electric milk frother in the kitchen that buzzes like a motherfucker.

32

HENDRICKS

It sounds like she has a jackhammer in her room.

I listen like a fucking pervert outside her door, turned on again—or still. It seems to be a constant state around her.

And—fuck it all—I can’t even get relief from a cold shower, not with her scent clinging in there.

Because I refuse to jerk off at her door like a deviant, I head down to the vault to channel this frustration into productivity.

33

MANDY

I’ve survived traffickers, psychopaths, and Cole Turner, but it turns out the real threat is Hendricks in all black.

When he steps into the kitchen that evening, I nearly swallow my tongue. Everything that I’d thought up to toss at him flies out of my mind and I’m hard-pressed to do anything but prop myself up against the counter and stare.

He’s dressed in tactical pants with cargo pockets and a black shirt that fits him like a second skin. It’s a different outfit than what he was wearing when he went out earlier. His hair is mussed, like he’s been raking his fingers through it, and his eyes look steely. He looks pissed and badass and hot.

It can’t be about the pillow. It’s still on his couch. If that pissed him off, he’d have gotten rid of it.

I wonder if he found the little present I left for him in his bathroom—and I don’t mean the candle.

"Two days," he says without preamble as he takes out a glass and fills it with water. "My contact needs two days to process the photo.”

It takes me a moment to come out of my sexual haze and refocus. When I register what he said, I lower the coffee mug and study him. "You think your source will find her?"

“If she exists, he’ll find her,” he replies with a calm confidence that’s more reassuring than I’ll ever admit.

"So what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Sit here and stare at each other?" I widen my eyes, exaggeratingly staring at him to make a point.

His eyes flick to mine. I expect them to be cool, only they’re anything but. "No."

The single word lands between us like a challenge.

"Then what?" I bat my eyelashes at him and give him a sweet smile. “Want to go shopping with me for more throw pillows?”

He takes a sip of water, watching me over the rim. I can tell by his expression he’s seen the pillow—and everything else. Of course he has. Hendricks is the type of man who notices when you’ve trimmed your bangs. Which means he’s decided to let me get away with it.