Page 38 of Glorious Sinner

“Two at once?”

He still said nothing. Damn.

“A whole cheerleading squad?”

His fingers flexed, digging into my flesh, and he made a choking sound. “No, I can honestly say I’ve never fucked an entire cheerleading squad.”

“At least that’s something,” I muttered, only realizing I said it out loud and not in my head when he frowned down at me.

“Where’s this coming from?”

The thought of Tomas with another woman, let alone two at once, was not a good one. I didn’t want it in my head. “Nothing. Nowhere.” I tried to wriggle off his lap, but he held me there.

“Stephanie,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’d prefer not to,” I said.

“Tough shit. Start talking.”

A laugh bubbled up my throat out of nowhere. “When you get pissy you sound like my Tomas, the boy who worked for my dad and ate my muffins.”

“I wanted to eat a fuck of a lot more than your muffins,” he said.

The laugh escaped and I went with it. When my chuckles dried up, I rested my head on his chest and sighed. “I’ve only ever been with one man. Just one. And he was a sadistic fucking asshole. I guess I’m worried I’ll pale in comparison.”

He did his going-still thing again. “What?” he whispered.

I decided to push on. Might as well get it all out. At least then he wouldn’t think I was some selfish taking taker who just took all the time. “Because I’ve only been with Ryan, I don’t know what will happen when I’m with someone else. I don’t know how I’ll react in the moment, but most of all, I’m worried I’ll disappoint you.”

He said nothing, was still holding himself rigid.

“I’m not worth all the drama, Tomas. I’m not.” There, I’d said it, so he didn’t have to feel guilty when he got tired of all the crap that I brought with me. “Even if this is just casual…especially because this is casual,” I said.

11

Tomas

The car pulled to a stop as Stephanie finished talking, and holding my shit together in that moment was the hardest thing I’d ever done because I wanted to roar how wrong she was. I wanted to make her believe me, and make it stick.

The door opened and I helped her out, taking her hand so I could lead her to the front door. She was silent beside me. I could feel her gaze on me. Christ, she thought she had it all figured out.

I shut and locked the door behind us, made sure the security system was on, and carried on up the stairs to my room and gently nudged Steph to sit on the bed.

I grabbed a T-shirt out of my drawer. “Wear this, Angel.” I tossed it on the bed beside her and shut myself in the bathroom. Resting my hands on the counter, I closed my eyes and took calming breaths. I wasn’t angry at her, never her. But what had happened to her, and how deeply had it affected her? Fuck, I was afraid the scars on her soul were as permanent as the ones on her skin.

Guilt clawed at me. How could I have not seen the signs back then? How could I have missed it? I was a fucking expert on the type of cowards who hit women, who preyed on those physically weaker than them. I knew, and yet I’d fucking missed it and I’d kept on missing it the few times I’d seen her at Stilettos before Ryan had nearly killed her.

You were too busy avoiding her.

Idiot. I thought I was doing the right thing, that staying away was for the best. She was married and I was me, an ex-thug turned criminal. Angry and twisted and selfish. A sinner.

That call from Stephanie—finding her near death on her bathroom floor—my world had changed that day. She changed me, and I’d spent the last year trying to be worthy of her. Right now she was sitting in my room, on my bed, and she’d convinced herself that she wasn’t worth it.

I shook my head. The woman had no idea what she meant to me, and I fucking knew she wasn’t ready to hear it despite the dance she did for me tonight, the song she’d selected. And I felt fucking helpless, something I hadn’t felt since I was a little kid living in a home full of violence and fear.

Pushing away from the counter, I splashed water on my face, stripped off and tugged on the pajama bottoms I wore when she was in my bed, and walked out. She was still sitting where I’d left her, but she’d done as I asked and put on the shirt. That dark, possessive side of me loved seeing her in my clothes. Like a wild animal marking what was his. Yeah, fucked up, but I’d embraced that side of myself a long time ago. Dark and twisted or not, I would never, could never, do anything to hurt her.

I’d give it all up, everything, for her.