Perfect Sinner by Maggie Cole

8

Gemma

I openmy door to get a bottle of water and hear Molly talking. It's past midnight. Hurt and anger intensifies. Nolan prefers to spend his night with a train wreck like her but claims I'm drama. Not sure why he can't see how big of a mess she is but has no problem pointing out mine.

Okay, maybe that isn't fair. He didn't exactly point out my shortcomings. But he did make it clear I wasn't a choice he'd ever make. And I'm not willing to be his spur-of-the-moment, wild-girl guinea pig for him to test out, only to say he tried it out once and proved his theory right.

I shut my door and crawl back into bed. I toss and turn but freeze when the door opens. I close my eyes.

Like every night, Nolan stares down at me. I can feel him. My heart beats harder. Several minutes pass and then he sits on the chair.

I always keep my eyes shut. I usually fall asleep, feeling safe when he watches me. Tonight, there's no way it's happening. Instead of pretending, I slowly open my eyes.

It takes a moment for them to adjust. Nolan's in his boxers, displaying every inch of his muscular flesh. A crystal whiskey glass is in his hand, and he's tapping the side of it with his index finger.

His green eyes glow in the dark. They fixate on mine, and I don't blink. I don't know if time stands still or moves forward. It feels like forever and nothing at all before he sets the glass on the table, drops to his knees, and is in front of me.

I hold my breath when his hand strokes my cheek. Flutters ignite in my belly. The intoxicating scent of sandalwood and coffee beans swirls in the air. He opens his mouth then shuts it.

Against my will, his face becomes a blur as tears fill my eyes. I don't want to fight with Nolan. I don't want to be the girl he doesn't want or would never choose. And I don't want him to be another guy I regret.

He takes both hands, slides them in my hair, and dips his face in front of mine. The blazing green fire in his eyes burns brighter. The pulsing in my veins quickens. His hot breath, sweet from whiskey, merges with mine.

I open my mouth, and before I can say anything, his lips are on mine. His delicious tongue slides so quickly into my mouth, I gasp. My body trembles as he flicks it in and out, exploring every part and rolling it against my tongue.

I kiss him back with a fury, unable to stop myself from responding or ending what both of us know we shouldn't do.

His strong hand slides down my back, and his other hand throws the covers off me. He palms my ass and pulls me into a sitting position so I'm facing him. Before I know what's happening, he wraps my legs around his waist, lifts me up, and carries me down the hall. He never takes his mouth off mine or reduces the intensity of our kisses. It grows hotter and hotter until I feel like I'm about to combust.

He sets me on the bed, removing his lips from mine, only to pull his T-shirt I'm wearing, over my head and tossing it on the floor. His mouth consumes me again, and when our warm skin makes contact, a deep groan rumbles in his chest.

I hold on to him as if he's mine, pushing the thoughts about why I should stop this to the back of my head. He's a perfect concoction of hard flesh, pulsing skin, and aggressive confidence you don't ever want to let go of. It's in his eyes and hands and lips. Every move he makes, he takes possession of me further until I'm so engrossed in his body, I forget I'm not part of him.

His mouth inches down my torso, controlling my every whimper, creating an inferno so fiery, pellets of sweat burst out on my skin.

When he reaches my pussy, his eyes lock on mine. I come almost as soon as his tongue and lips ravage me. It feels like forever since a man last touched me, but everything about Nolan is different.

I cry out, dizzy from the adrenaline. It only encourages him more. He reaches up, pushes my head back, then sticks his hand over my face. His fingers slide down until two are in my mouth, muffling my moans as another wave of endorphins ricochets through my body.

He drags his tongue up my torso, sucks on each breast, then returns to kissing me.

The sound of the drawer opening hits my ears. Somehow, he puts a condom on without ever taking his mouth or body away from mine. Tingles ignite on the back of my thigh when he pushes it up. He presses his forehead against mine and sinks into me.

I gasp. He closes his eyes then his green orbs drill back into mine. "Shhh," he murmurs, caressing my head.

I lift my hips then realize he's not entirely in me.

"Go slow, princess." He continues kissing me, thrusting deeper inch by inch, then glides his arms under my back and rolls over, taking me with him.

My knees sink into the mattress. He sits up and wraps his arms around me, fisting my hair and tugging it. His lips assault my neck, and I take more and more of him in until there's no more to take.

His erection expands my walls to the point I wonder if he's going to break me in two. I grind my hips on top of him, closing my eyes, feeling the intensity of all that is Nolan.

Every touch is possessive. Each kiss feeds a craving. All the parts of him swallow me whole until only life surges through me.

"You're mine, princess," he murmurs then licks the back of my ear.

I want it to be true. I don't know if it is, except for in this moment. So I push any questions or worries away and fall deeper under his spell.

He kisses me again, gently biting my lip, then holds my face in front of his. He commands, "Tell me you're mine."

I nod, attempt to kiss him again, but he holds my hair tighter so I can't.

"Say it," he demands. His eyes glow like a wild animal that just woke up and needs to be fed.

My voice comes out in a quiet rasp. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"I'm yours."

His smoldering expression burns hotter. He flips me on my back and pins my wrists above my head.

"Oh God!" I cry out as he thrusts harder.

"Jesus, Gemma," he mumbles then buries his face into the curve of my neck, biting on my collarbone.

Tremors ignite in my toes. My body spasms against his, and I clutch him wherever I can as my eyes roll.

"That's it, princess," he growls then his erection violently pumps inside me, stretching me to another breaking point.

We lay there, sweaty, breathing hard, flesh throbbing against flesh. He finally picks his head up and stares at me.

I open my mouth, not even sure what I'm going to say, but he puts his finger over it.

"Don't talk. Let's not ruin this," he says then consumes my mouth, as if it's a drug he can't get enough of. Or maybe I'm the one taking hit after hit of him. I match every ounce of affection he gives me with a hunger and greed I don't ever recall feeling.

We come up for air. He rolls off me, tugs me into his arms, and pretzels his limbs around mine, just like the only other time I slept with him. He kisses my head, strokes my back, and I fall asleep on his chest.

When I open my eyes the next morning, he's breathing softly and evenly.

Shit. What did we do?

The covers are over me but not the one side of his body. I stare at his chest, covered in ink, attempting not to freak out. But I'm unable to hold back and trace the Celtic arrows on his V.

"You can go lower," his deep voice teases.

I freeze then glance up. His eyes are still closed, but his lips twitch. I walk my fingers farther down the V and discover the biggest erection I've ever felt.

He opens one eye. "How much energy do you have?"

I nervously laugh, still not sure if we should be doing this. "That's an odd question."

He reaches in the drawer then flips me on my back. I sharply inhale, and an arrogant expression fills his face. "I wonder if I wear you out first, if you'll still beat me today."

"Beat you?"

He kisses me then lowers his head to my neck. "Mmhmm. I have a surprise for you."

Flutters fill my belly. He licks my nipple, and I squeak out, "Oh?"

His soft chuckle fills the air. His hand slides over the curve of my waist until it's between my legs. He pinches my clit, and I gasp.

The alarm on his phone blares through the air. He groans then reaches for it. He mutters, "We might have to run there," then slides off me and stands up.

I sit up to get out of bed, but he yanks me toward him. I yelp, and he smirks. His hands grab my hips, and he flips me on my knees. His hot breath hits my ear. "This is for categorizing me with those dickheads." His palm hits my ass cheek.

A loud crack rings through the air, and I jump. He tightens his arm around my waist.

"Nolan!" I scream. No one's ever slapped my ass before.

He rubs it out and tingles spread under his hand. "Naughty girls get spanked." He hits me again, and the sting intensifies before he rubs it out.

I think he's going to repeat it when his cock slides inside me.

"Oh God!" I yell.

He doesn't inch in me like the previous night. His pelvis is soon against my ass cheeks, and I'm whimpering and shaking on all fours. Zings fly up my spine as his tongue slides up it.

"Holy...oh..."

His fingers circle my clit, and his lips hit my ear. "If you beat me today, I'm licking your pussy at the pub tonight."

"What?" I still don't understand what he's talking about by me beating him.

"Mmhmm. And if I win, you're going to drop to your knees and suck my dick like it's a Tootsie Pop you can't get to the center of."

I burst out laughing, but it's short-lived. He starts to thrust and circle faster, and I break out in a sweat. Endorphins fill all my cells, and I scream, "Nolan! Oh God!"

He splays his hand on my back, pushes me down on the mattress, and grasps my hip with his other hand. Each thrust creates new tremors in my body until I'm so dizzy, I see stars.

He grunts loudly, his body becomes a piston detonating in mine, and I think I might blackout from the rush of adrenaline.

I try to catch my breath, but he pulls me on my feet and spins me into him. Cockiness floods his expression. "Get dressed, princess."

"For what?"

He tsks me. "And you call yourself Irish?"

I stare at him in confusion.

"It's St. Paddy's Day. We have a race to get to."

It takes me a minute to process. I didn't even realize it was March. St. Paddy's Day is my favorite holiday. "5K or 8K?"

"What do you think?"

"Eight?" I ask, hopefully.

"Of course."

"On the Riverwalk?"

"Is there any other one?"

"Really?"

"Yep. We're all signed up under fake names. We even have ID cards," he says.

I clap then throw my arms around him. "Thank you!"

He pats my sore ass cheek. "Get your clothes on. We're going to be late."

We slide into our running gear, leave the house, and jog down to the Riverwalk. "It's so pretty!" I exclaim, staring at the green water. Every year, Chicago dyes the water in the lochs for the holiday.

Nolan grabs my hand and maneuvers me through the large crowd. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel scared or paranoid. I'm just excited about taking part in one of my favorite races. He leads me to the registration table, and we stand in line. He leans down to my ear. "Your name is Crystal Waters."

I raise my eyebrows. "Seriously? What's yours?"

"You don't want to know."

"Oh, please tell."

"Dick Wood."

I laugh so hard, tears come to my eyes. "Who came up with these names?"

"One of my brothers. Who do you think?"

"Killian?"

"Yep."

The person in front of us leaves, and Nolan slaps down two fake IDs. The woman reads our cards, smiles, and studies us. Nolan puts his arm around my shoulder, and I attempt not to laugh. We get our packets and pin the race bibs on our shirts. The announcer says it's time to line up. Nolan grabs my hand and leads me to our designated starting area.

The nervous flutters I always have whenever I start a race ignite in my belly. Nolan leans down and says, "Don't forget our bet."

My butterflies intensify. I tilt my head up. "Umm, did we make a bet?"

His eyes sparkle. "Yeah. You subconsciously agreed."

"Hmm. I guess I'll have to remember we have this cosmic ability to consent."

He wiggles his eyebrows. "You know, if—"

The starting pistol blasts and we start to move with the crowd. The first quarter-mile it's jam-packed, but the runners begin to spread out. I hit a comfortable speed but don't go as fast as I usually would. There's no way I'm breaking away from Nolan until the end.

We weave around the other runners who started in the zone before us, making our way down the green river. A few miles in, we get to the ship canal and turn to run alongside Lake Michigan.

It's sunny, but the wind picks up, smacking me in the face. I push harder to keep my pace. About a mile until the finish line, Nolan pants, "You're killing me, princess."

I glance over. "Do you need me to slow down?"

"No." He scrunches his sweaty face in determination.

I wait until we're a quarter-mile to the finish line and decide it's safe for me to go all out, since Nolan will be right behind me. There's no way I'm losing this bet he created.

Nolan surprises me and continues running side by side with me until the final turn. I find my second wind and run faster, breaking away from him and shooting through the finish line. I cross, continue running, then morph into a jog before transitioning to a walk. My blood is pounding in every cell of my body, and I feel like my old self. I turn to see Nolan sprinting past the marker. He replicates my actions and puts his hands above his head.

"Speedy Gonzalez!" he puffs.

I grin, unable to stop the happiness I feel. I boast, "I won!"

He smirks. "Did you win, or did I?"

I bite on my smile, feeling the happiest I've felt in a long time. We walk toward his neighborhood, and he tugs me into him.

I glance up. "Thanks for arranging this. It makes me feel like me again."

"I know, princess. Let's get your acid and you can drink it on the way home." He opens the door to a cafe. It's the same chain as the one near his house. We get in line and I ask, "So we're going to the pub later today?"

"Yeah. You didn't think I'd let you miss St. Paddy's Day, did you? That would be blasphemy," he teases.

"Very true."

His stomach growls. "I think we should eat sushi for breakfast when we get home."

Guilt about last night fills me. "Hey, I'm sorry about—"

"We're both at fault. Let's forget about it." His green eyes fill with remorse.

I nod. "Okay."

He smiles. "Since this is your first O'Malley St.—"

"Well, if it isn't my missing sunshine. Did you take part in the run, Doll?" the same barista from the cafe near Nolan's house asks. His eyes scan my body, and he licks his lips. "Sweat looks good on you."

Nolan's body stiffens. He growls, "If you hit on my woman one more time, I'm going to reach over this counter and drag you outside."

I bite on my smile and tug on his arm. "Nolan."

The barista's smug expression gets cockier. He addresses me. "Same order as always, Doll?"

"Yeah."

"Stop calling her Doll," Nolan barks and throws six bucks on the counter.

"But she is. Look at her," he gloats and checks me out again.

Nolan's face turns red, and he starts to reach over the counter.

I jump in front of him. "Easy. Let's go wait for my espresso."

He snarls and points at the barista. "You better watch it."

I tug him toward the end of the counter, and he mumbles, "That guy is going to see an early grave."

"I think he's doing it to get under your skin. You shouldn't let him bother you."

"No. He's eyeing you up like a piece of fresh meat," Nolan insists.

I attempt not to smile.

"You find this funny?" Nolan asks.

"Double espresso long for Doll," the other barista yells and sets my drink down.

Nolan growls and exchanges a look with the barista who hit on me.

I lead Nolan outside, and we walk home. We take showers, and I put on jeans and the green, long-sleeve O'Malley T-shirt he had hidden in his closet for me. It's soft like the ones of his I wear to bed. I pull out the sushi from last night, and we only take a few bites before the doorbell rings.

"Expecting company?" I ask.

"Nope." He goes to the door and opens it. "Molly. What are you doing here?"

My gut drops.

Her annoying voice fills the room. "I wanted to say thank you for helping me last night. Sorry to be such a pain, but you're the only one I can talk to about these things. Anyway, I know you love my fish stew, so I made you a pot."

Nolan clears his voice. "Thanks. That was nice of you."

"Are you going to the pub today?"

"Yes. Of course."

Her voice gets chipper. "Great. I'm heading there now for my shift. I'll make sure I save one of the chilled mugs for you before we run out."

"Thanks. I'll see you later," Nolan says.

"Okay. Bye, Nolan," she almost sings, and I want to throw up in my mouth.

Nolan shuts the door and brings a large plastic container into the kitchen.

I put my chopsticks down and glare at the container.

"She's just trying to be nice," Nolan offers.

"Sure. Ms. I-Want-to-Suck-Your-Dick-All-Night can't stay away for more than twelve hours, can she?" I sneer.

Nolan puts the stew in the fridge. He spins me on the barstool and tilts my chin up. "Nothing is going on between Molly and me. Are you going to let this ruin the St. Paddy's Day I planned for you?" He arches an eyebrow.

I take a deep breath. Until Molly showed up, things were perfect. Everything he did today has been for me. I sigh. "No."

He slides his hands to my cheeks and brings his face to mine. His lips twitch. "Good. Let's finish our sushi. You're going to need lots of food in your stomach to handle an O'Malley St. Paddy's Day."