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Without a backward look, Don hands me his leather jacket. It smells like him, and I sink into that comfort as I climb onto the back of his motorcycle and we tear down the road toward a future I never anticipated and can’t begin to fathom. I’m not sure whether I’m making a huge mistake or not, although the thought of going back to that life—one where I was accountable for everyone’s problems and where I repeatedly sacrificed myself to a god who never once showed me mercy—when someone was offering me an out was far too tempting.
I can practically hear my mom’s voice in my head, telling me I’m willingly inviting the Devil in, yet isn’t he already buried beneath my skin? That’s what everyone says. If I’m the Devil’s progeny, then evil runs in my blood, and sinning is what I’m made for.
For nineteen years, I’ve tried my best to be one of God’s servants. I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me, devoted my life to Him, and for what? God hasn’t done anything for me, and living a pious life has done nothing but give me pain.
Maybe a life following in the Devil’s footsteps is what I’m supposed to do.
We ride until my muscles ache from sitting in one position for so long, and I have to pry my hands from the front of Don’s top when we stop.
“Why are we stopping here?” I ask when we park outside a motel.
“It’s getting late, and we’re still several hours away from mine.”
“Yours? You have your own house?”
He simply smirks at me. “All will be revealed, little devil.”
Cryptic.
“Stay here,” he dictates. “I’ll go get us a room for the night.”
He takes off, and I watch as he approaches the reception building and steps inside. Alone in the dark night, I wrap his jacket tighter around me and inhale his intoxicating scent. There’s something so revitalizing yet reckless about the smell. As though, simply by being close to Don, I’m playing with fire. You get a high from the thrill, but you know that the tides could turn at any moment, and then you’ll be burned.
A few minutes later, Don reappears, dangling a key from his finger. “Come on, little devil.”
I follow him over to a room at the far end of the building, which he unlocks before pushing open the door and flicking on the light. My eyes quickly sweep the room, taking in the plain walls and basic wooden table by the window before landing on the double bed occupying most of the space.
“One bed?” I squeak.
I catch his smirk from the corner of my eye. “That a problem, little devil? Don’t tell me you’re a duvet hogger.”
Based on the mischievous glint in his eyes, he knows damn well that’s not the problem.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a sec, I’m going to park the bike outside.”
Alone, I move to perch on the end of the bed as doubts slowly creep in. What the hell was I thinking, abandoning everything I’ve ever known to take off with a guy I don’t know? Now he expects me to sleep in here alone with him? I’ve never shared a room with a guy—or anyone—before, let alone a bed. It’s unholy. Sinful. Only married people should share a bed.
The rumble of the engine outside the room announces his imminent arrival before it cuts off, and a few minutes later, the door opens. I notice a bag thrown over his shoulder, which further emphasizes how recklessly spontaneous my decision was.
“I have no clothes,” I blurt with a frown as I stare down at my outfit.
“You can borrow one of my tops tonight,” he says easily. Far too easily. “Do you want to use the bathroom first?” he offers.
Unsure how to react or what to think, I numbly nod my head as I get to my feet and move to the small bathroom. Turning on the taps, I splash some water on my face before staring at my pale complexion in the mirror. My contrasting eyes stare back at me, wide with apprehension, and my red hair is windswept.
I’m using my fingers to remove the knots when there’s a knock on the bathroom door. “I got you a toothbrush from reception, and I have some toothpaste and a t-shirt you can use.”
With nerves fluttering in my chest, I unlock the bathroom door and pull it open. Don is standing there with the belongings in his arms, and he hands them over to me.
“Thanks,” I murmur. He nods before I close the door again. I brush my teeth and strip out of my clothes before I can talk myself out of it. Hurriedly pulling on his t-shirt, I breathe out a sigh of relief when it falls nearly to my knees. That’s something, I guess. However, it still doesn’t feel like enough. I’ve never walked around in just a t-shirt in front of a man before, and certainly not a man who looks like Don and makes me feel things I’ve never felt before and have always been told are sinful.
I stall for as long as I can in the small bathroom before whipping open the door. Like a woman on a mission, I rush into the room. Ignoring Don’s bark of laughter that sounds like rich, dark chocolate, I practically dive beneath the covers, feeling marginally better to have an extra layer of protection wrapped around me.
I sit rigidly in the bed as I listen to the sounds of him moving about in the bathroom, and when he reappears, my whole body tenses. What’s worse is that my entire mouth goes dry as my eyes bounce all over him. Dressed in only a pair of boxers, I can’t figure out where to look—or where not to—as I take in his broad chest, six-pack abs, and the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers. My cheeks are aflame, even though I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the vast expanse of bronzed skin, occasionally broken up with dark ink in designs I can’t decipher.
The muscles in his thigh flex as he stalks toward me, and I squeak at his close proximity and the thought of having all that gorgeous skin on display right next to me all night.
“Relax, little devil,” he purrs like the sinner he is. “I’ll only touch you if you beg me.” He winks, and I’m so stunned, all I can do is stare at him. Another gruff laugh rumbles past his lips and sinks into my skin, acting like a balm as it soothes my nerves.
