Page 2 of My Beautiful Sin

The memory of the text I received last night sends a chill through me. I hadn’t shown it to Devlin. I’m not sure if I wanted to protect the sensual intimacy of our night together or if I was afraid of what I’d see on his face—the things he might feel compelled to tell me. And the shadow of the secrets he’s withholding.

After all, everything I’d learned recently nearly broke me. The knowledge that he’s the son of one of the most notorious criminals to ever walk the earth was bad enough. But when I learned that it was Devlin who’d killed my uncle Peter all those years ago, the ground had fallen out from under me.

It had taken long talks and even longer forays deep into my own soul to accept the truth, understand his motivations, and not only forgive him, but realize how deeply I need him. I’d run back to him with a change of clothes and the determination to convince him that everything could be right between us.

Then that text arrived.

What if there’s another horrible revelation? Maybe I can face it now, in the morning light. But last night? With candles and kisses, and the fervor of reconciliation?

No way—that hadn’t even been an option.

So instead of sharing the text, I’d shoved down my fears.

I haven’t even considered the possibility that the vague language refers to something other than Devlin. Of course it’s about him.

He told me straight out that he’s still clinging to secrets. But secrets are slippery. It’s rare that they are truly secure. Someone else knows what he’s trying to hide.

But whether this text was meant as a warning or a threat, I don’t know. Either way, it was meant to divide us, Devlin and me.

I won’t let it, though, and now I draw strength from the knowledge that I know this man. The real man, not merely the picture he paints for the world.

Except that’s not entirely true, and I tremble. Not because I know the secrets he’s keeping, but because I fear that he loves me enough to walk away if those secrets put a target on my back. He did it once already, after all.

That certainty weighs on me, and I close my eyes, longing for the return of sleep. I want to wake up again, only this time with no memory of the text. I want it to be nothing more than the remnant of a nightmare. Something I can ignore.

Something I don’t have to tell him.

As if the mental storm in my head has awakened him, his hand slides along my thigh, rising higher until he’s caressing my hip. His lips brush the nape of my neck, and my body immediately responds, my nipples going hard, that insistent pulse between my legs increasing.

Without a word, I roll over and find his chiseled face smiling back at me. His chin-length dark hair frames his face, and his eyes—sandy brown at the moment—watch me with such tender intensity that my heart actually aches.

We’ve been through so much in such a short time. Secrets, lies, promises. His revelations had both scared and horrified me, but I’m still here, despite Devlin trying his damnedest to push me away.

Now, someone else is pushing, suggesting even darker secrets. But it doesn’t matter. I’m fighting back against that someone, too.

I’ve gone from hating Alex Leto for walking away from me all those years ago, to loving Devlin Saint with an intensity so deep I know that I would sacrifice anything to keep him near me. There is darkness around him, true. But I like to think that I’m the light he needs in his life.

I know for certain that he’s what I need in mine. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let random, anonymous threats shake my faith in him.

He studies my face, and the silence that still lingers between us seems thick with possibility. I don’t break it. Instead, I use my forefinger to gently trace the scar on his face.

It’s not a scar he had in our youth, and though he has yet to tell me the full story of how he got it, I know that it’s a mark of the man he is now. It bisects his right brow, then continues down his cheek, the offending blade having thankfully spared his eye.

It terminates on his upper lip beneath the close-trimmed mustache that I brush lightly before cupping his jaw with my hand, enjoying the sensation of his rough beard against my palm.

He’d been clean-shaven when we were young, but he’d been a different person then, too. And honestly, I can’t complain. The Alex Leto I’d loved then could turn heads, no doubt. But Devlin Saint is the full package. He’s confidence, control, and a hint of danger all wrapped up in a man who must have been designed by the gods on a particularly good day.

Best of all, he’s mine.

“Hi, there,” I say, my voice the barest hint of a whisper.

He doesn’t respond. At least not with words. Instead, he rolls us over so that I’m on my back and he’s straddling me, his hands sliding up my body as he lowers his mouth to mine.

The kiss is slow and deep, and I want to melt into it. Into him. I spread my legs, wanting everything he is willing to give, then cringing when I remember. “Wait,” I whisper, tightening my grip on his shoulders. “Do you have a condom?”

He hesitates a second too long before stretching his arm out to pull open the bedside drawer. He may not have even realized he hesitated, but I know he did. And I know why.

We’d forgotten about protection last night. Which isn’t a huge problem since I’ve got an implant. Except that before Devlin, I wasn’t exactly playing it safe. I haven’t played it safe in years. On the contrary, from fast cars to anonymous fucks, I’ve spent much of the last ten years standing at the edge of a metaphorical volcano, daring the world to push me in.