Page 44 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

An older couple walking by grins fondly at us, like we’re reminding them of when they were young and happy and in love. I grin so hard it hurts because finally, someone gets to see me and Beau as a couple, even if they’re strangers.

“How was your flight, Brinley baby?” Beau asks as he sets me down.

“Long.” I sigh. “At least I got some sleep, though.”

His brows arch up behind his sunglasses. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“My thank you, for forcing you to upgrade to the first-class reclining seats.”

I roll my eyes. “Why would I thank you for something that’s purely selfish?”

“What’s selfish about shelling out thousands of dollars for your flight upgrade?”

“Because you know if I’m well-rested, your chances of getting some goes up significantly.”

His arms tighten around my waist. “It’s been a while since math class, but I don’t think that odds get any higher than 100 percent.”

“You think I’m that easy?” I joke.

“Yup. Brinley Windsor, total trollop.” He lowers his mouth, brushing his lips softly against mine. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

My lips part without any coaxing. It’s only been a few days, but I’ve missed the taste of him, like spearmint and sunshine. His body radiates warmth through the thin fabric of my blue and white sundress. I bought this dress months ago, spending way too much money on it, because I knew Beau would love it. When he finally pulls away from the kiss, his eyes sweep over my body.

“Fuck, that dress is perfect.”

I grin. Worth every penny.

Reluctantly, Beau lets go of me and opens the passenger door for me. “We should get going. I’ve got a bottle of red wine decanting back at the villa.”

I grin as I slide into my seat. “Have I mentioned that I love it here?”

“You better. This is my homeland, Brin.” He grunts as he puts my suitcase in the trunk.

I raise a brow. “Weren’t you born at Mount Sinai?”

“I was conceived in Tuscany, though, so it counts.”

“How do you know when you were conceived?”

“I have an oversharing mother.”

He takes a seat behind the wheel. Instead of turning the car on, he reaches for me, taking my face in his hands. He draws me close and presses his lips hungrily against mine. His mouth is hotter, hungrier, greedier than the last kiss. I find myself melting against him, threading my fingers into his hair. We’re both a little breathless when we pull apart.

“New plan,” he mutters. “We find some out-of-the-way country road and fuck on the roof of the car.”

“What?” I laugh.

“I want to be inside you, Brinley baby, and I don’t want to wait an hour to do it.”

“What about your decanting wine?”

“It can wait a little longer.” His hand moves further up my thigh, teasing me.

As tempting as that sounds… “Later. Once we’re at the villa.”

He sighs. “If you insist, little tyrant.”