Lace and Sin (Sinners Series Book 1) Read online

  Like the artefact the article wrote about, that was me. The artefact belonged to an old lady who’d had it passed down from generation to generation. It was worth millions, and the auction directors kept offering her barely half the amount it was worth so they could make a larger profit - greedy fucking bastards.

  To her, it wasn’t about the money. She wanted to keep it since it’d been in her family for so long, and it was worth more in history and stories to her than any amount of millions anyone tried to offer her.

  Someone broke into her house and not only stolen it, but also attacked the poor old lady. She was a friend of my uncles, which is how she managed to get a hold of me and ask me for my help.

  I’m not a bad person, am I?

  Maybe letting Carter in a tiny bit would help clear my head for the job I have ahead of me. Around him my mind seems to be less chaotic, I think less like a monster. Maybe it’s because around him I forget what my objective is entirely and only think of him, his lips, and that damn smile with the dimple.

  I mean how bad could it be? We’d fool around for a bit until one or the other gets bored, we say our goodbyes, and that’s it, right? It’s not like we’re going to fall in love and live happily ever after. As nice as a house with a porch and white picket fence sounds, it’s just not for me, and believe me when I say I’d make a terrible mother. All those things most normal girls dream of – perfect job, perfect husband, perfect house, little family, all that shit just doesn’t apply to me. I’m not a person that considers herself to deserve the happily ever after everyone else craves.

  Having a casual sort of fling means having some fun and not having to worry whether the other person loves you, what they’re doing, and where they are when you’re not around. You don’t have to divulge your life story to them. I wouldn’t be able to handle any more heart break, and if you’re with someone like that – in love and all that, you’re setting yourself up for major breakage. Someone’s bound to cheat, leave you, or god forbid die on you. So why give your heart away?

  The more I think about it, the more Carter’s suggestion for casual ‘fucking’ sounds perfect. No hearts being given away means no access for them to get broken, right?

  Having made up my mind I dry my hair quickly and get dressed, already in a much better mood than before my shower. I’m not going to go out of my way to get Carter, but if he happens to offer anything again I’m not going to say no this time.

  Pathetically I spend my day slightly excited to see him around the office, but true to his word I don’t even see him once - leaving me slightly disappointed I didn’t get a kinky office romp, or kiss in the janitor’s cupboard. Instead of concentrating on making plans, doing research, or even god forbid actual work that I’m being paid for here, I’ve found myself wanting to go see him.

  Driving myself nuts over absolutely nothing - which is a clear sign he’s a major distraction for what I’ve got planned, or that he changes my purpose and passion towards something utterly different, and the polar opposite of vengeance. I wasted my day thinking about sex, Carter, whether he wears briefs or boxers, and then some more sex.

  Saturday morning I wake earlier than usual, too much going through my mind for a small job I have tonight. I dress quickly in some workout gear, and make a quick coffee before I head out for a run - the coffee burning my throat on the way down since I didn’t let it cool.

  The early morning air is crisp and fresh, making my cheeks no doubt go rosy from the cold air. I run at a smooth pace, not paying attention to my surroundings, until my body is burning from inside. I find myself heading in the direction of the Mikhalov building, or as I’ve come to call – Lucifer’s tower. It’s a few blocks from our house, and by few I mean like a good forty minute run, but I don’t mind considering the cold air outside is keeping me cool.

  Once I’m finally there, I lean casually against the building across the street and look up at the gigantic structure towering over me. Light rain drizzles down that it’s barely noticeable, and before my thoughts get too bitter my phone starts to ring - it’s my uncle.

  “Wujek jak ci idzie?” I ask him how he’s doing. I don’t generally speak Polish to anyone apart from him, and Alek and I stick to English. My uncle tries to stick to English too but usually reverts back to Polish, or does a weird combination of both which is slightly hilarious. Considering he’s been here for around eighteen years he still has the thickest accent I’ve ever heard. I kind of wish I had an accent to be honest – ello, I am Kayyyla, I say in my head and sound like Count Dracula. God I’m an idiot sometimes.

  “I’m always good, you know that Kayla. How is your new job going?”

  He doesn’t know my plans for Abram, only Alek does. The least amount of people that know the better; plus he might try to talk me out of it. I’m not a killer, it’s not in me to hurt people he’d say.

  It might be unhealthy to hold on to this grudge, to let it fester within me until it’s too much. But maybe I’m kind of hoping that when it does get to that point, I’ll be standing in front of Abram with a gun to his head.

  I shake my head because that’s kind of dark even for me to think. Yes, I want to hurt and kill the man that murdered my parents, but I guess I haven’t really thought too far into it just yet. I guess at the moment I’m just planning on taking everything away from him and not actually murdering him.

  I’m still planning how to even get onto his floor in his mighty tower and see whether there are other ways to destroy him. I know the thing that will hurt him the most is his money, the success that he’s stolen, taking all that away from him.

  “Krysia?” my uncle says.

  “Oh sorry, dobrze, wszystko dobrze” I tell him everything is good just as I hear someone clear their throat. I turn to see Carter as he approaches and leans against the wall next to me, looking up at the building just like me – arms crossed in front of him.

  “Wujek muszę iść” I tell him I need to go and hang up, then tuck my phone into my pocket.

  “You Russian?” Carter asks, sounding slightly bothered by the thought.

  I almost laugh, “No, I’m Polish” I answer automatically, hopefully he won’t ask anything else about it.

  He eyes me for a moment and then relaxes, turning his gaze back to the building - “You stalking me?” he chuckles. There he goes again, giving me that grin that’s apparently so rare for him.

  “What? No! I was out running and just happened to come this way. Why are you even here on a Saturday?”

  He shakes his head slightly before answering, “Meeting with Abram, the owner of the building.”

  “Mikhalov?” I say before I can help myself, and squeeze my eyes shut as soon as the name slips from my lips. Carter eyes me curiously again and scratches his chin lightly, the slight stubble he still has really looks good on him. To my relief he ignores my question completely.

  “Did you run all this way from your place?”

  I just nod because I don’t want to say anything else that’s stupid – I mean just last night I said to myself that his offer for casual sex would be a good idea, and also pictured it all while in the shower before I made up my mind.

  “You want me to walk with you?”

  “That’s alright you don’t need to do that.”

  “What if I want to?” he asks and gives me a small smirk.

  “How are you going to get home from my place then?”

  “Okay, how’s about we walk to my apartment, and I’ll drive you home from there?”

  “Is that code for something?” I find myself laugh.

  “Only if you want it to be” he says straight faced, so I don’t know if he’s joking or not. All I manage to do is nod again. He grins at my response and surprises me by taking my hand gently, and starts leading me towards wherever his apartment is - “So you run around on your own a lot?”

  “You worried I might get hurt?” I snicker, because it’s slightly funny to see him concerned for me, if only he knew.

 
“Maybe.”

  “You don’t need to worry, there’s lots you don’t know about me Carter” I smile up at him as he leads me by the hand. His palm is warm, his fingers linked with mine, and it’s actually…nice.

  “Then tell me something about you Kayla” he says as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. We stop at a set of traffic lights and wait for the pedestrian lights to turn green. I can feel his gaze on me but I look straight ahead.

  “I can’t, not that there’s much to tell anyway. This isn’t how these kinds of things work though, right?”

  “What kinds of things? I’m just a guy, wanting to get to know more about a girl” he smiles.

  “Carter…I told you, I’m no good for relationships.”

  “You said you didn’t have time for them, different things Kayla.” I try to tug my hand from his but he just holds on tighter - “I’m just trying to understand you that’s all.”

  “Please don’t. This isn’t going to work if you’re trying to understand me. How’s about we just go with the flow, have fun, you know?”

  He quirks his dark brow at me and smiles playfully “So what are you saying?”

  “You know the friends-with-benefits kind of thing. That’s all I can really offer you right now” I shrug, as if this plan isn’t turning my insides into some weird twisted version of liquid desire.

  “I guess I’d be a sucker not to accept right?” he chuckles, and it seems to ease some of my tension that built up over the last five minutes.

  We turn and walk into an entrance of an apartment building. The foyer is massive with a man sitting behind a concierge desk. “Afternoon Mr Monroe” the doorman says cheerily and Carter gives him a curt nod in return.

  We walk through the lobby and into an elevator in silence, his hand still holding mine gently. I gave up trying to pull free before we even got inside the foyer. I turn my head slightly and watch him, noting his chest rise and fall with each breath - “Why are we going up?”

  His only response is a cheeky grin before the elevator stops on the penthouse floor, and I whistle lightly in awe, “Penthouse?”

  He just shrugs and let’s my hand go to enter a code for the main door. They click and he pushes the handle, opening the door wide and stepping inside. He takes a few steps before he notices me still standing in the doorway, and motions lazily with his finger for me to come closer, while the other hand loosens his tie. Now that’s a sexy sight.

  Now that I’m actually here, I’m kind of nervous. I’m not some Virgin Mary or anything but, it’s just him, he’s just this crazy mystery right now and it’s kind of frustrating. Why me? Why is he so interested in me?

  He walks back towards the doorway and hooks his finger into the waist band of my tights, then pulls me against him roughly. His arm wraps around my waist, and then he just looks down at me, small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

  “I didn’t picture you as the shy type.”

  “I’m not shy - I’m just contemplating whether I want to drag you into my messed up life, even like this.”

  “What’s there to lose?”

  “Your life” I answer seriously.

  “I can’t ask for you to elaborate can I, not part of the deal, right?” he chuckles, finding my words amusing

  “Need to know basis type of relationship” I giggle.

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take then darlin" he says, and his lips press down on mine. At first he’s kind of gentle, a sweet, soft type of kiss. But when I open my mouth for him it stirs something in us both. Our hands turn frantic - mine yanking his shirt out of his pants, and then literally ripping it open, buttons scattering across his white tiled floor.

  “Sorry, I’ll buy you a new shirt” I say slightly muffled against his lips with a grin.

  “I don’t care about the fucking shirt, Kayla” he says softly, his breath coming out more rapid as he picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist. He takes a few steps, shuts the door and then presses me against it, all with me still wrapped around him like a pretzel.

  My lips are against his bare tattooed chest, kissing up and along his neck as his hands reach down to the hem of my top, and yank it up and over my head. He throws it to the floor then gently pulls on my hair tie, letting my long, dark hair fall down around my chest.

  I'm already panting and breathless as my lips kiss every inch they can reach of him. I don't even notice when he starts moving and walking us through his lounge room, down a hallway, and then he kicks a door open gently. I’m sure he has a nice apartment, but I just don’t have the slightest interest right now in checking it out.

  I pull away from him slightly and look around the bedroom though, noting how dark it is. It’s fairly simple with nothing on the walls, apart from one feature wall that's painted what appears to be a deep, dark blue. His bed is a giant king size, modern, black leather frame with a cross stitch pattern on the bed head, and grey sheets loose on the bed.

  He tosses me down on the bed and I laugh as I bounce lightly on the mattress. He's already started to unbutton his pants but I stop him momentarily.

  "Hey Carter, can you just promise me one thing?"

  He eyes me curiously for a moment and then nods, "Depends what it is you want?" he grins cheekily.

  "Promise me this won’t turn into something more.”

  He's silent for a moment and it’s a little too dark in his bedroom with his blinds down for me to see his face clearly. All I can see is his eyes are down to the floor and his bottom lip is between his teeth, biting gently.

  "Carter?"

  "Okay" he finally says after what feels like an eternity. Not quite happy with his answer because he didn't actually promise me anything, but I decide to ignore it for now not wanting to ruin the moment. I pat the bed next to me as he continues unbuckling his pants, and then watch hungrily as they slide down his legs, ending up on his bedroom floor. The big question of briefs or boxers is answered for me as I stare down at his very impressive hard on.

  "You're a mystery you know that?" he says as he takes hold of one of my ankles and starts kissing down my leg. I wriggle, trying to get out of his hold because his soft stubble is tickling me and making me laugh. He keeps going though, not even remotely disturbed by my futile attempts of struggling free. His fingers hook into the top of my tights and he slowly starts to pull them down my legs, his eyes on mine the whole time like a hunter watching its prey. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I like that look in his eyes.

  "Undressing you is kind of like unwrapping a highly anticipated Christmas present" he says as he bends down and brushes his lips along my stomach - cheesy, but I’m finding it strangely sweet. Usually I don’t do the sweet thing, but I’m letting him get away with it. I twist my fingers through his hair, which I've wanted to do ever since I saw him that first day in the office. I tug gently and he growls as his lips finally reach my neck, at the same time pulling my sports bra up. I sit up for a second so he can take it off completely, and then watch as his eyes roam down my body.

  "You wear this kind of underwear when you're running?" he asks with amusement, as he snaps my lace underwear against my hip. I laugh because it's stupid, I just like lace underwear, makes me feel sexy even if I'm the only one that sees it.

  "What’s so funny? Underwear isn't in the ‘don't need to know’ category."

  "I just like lace, nothing more to it. Luckily, otherwise your Christmas present would have ugly granny panties on" I laugh.

  "I don't care about the packaging, I just care what’s underneath it" he says as his fingers slide under the top of my underwear and he slips them down my legs. He sits back a little and I watch as his eyes wander down my bare body, and surprisingly I'm not ashamed in front of him. I reach out and pull on the waist band of his briefs, letting them snap back against his skin loudly. We both chuckle lightly.

  We’re uncoordinated, messy, and impatient but both just as eager for wherever this is heading towards. I watch the way his arms move as he skims his hand
s along my thighs. He’s very attentive to every part of me that I didn’t even realise wanted or needed attention. His fingers slide against my skin as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

  I watch his face as he concentrates on the path he’s taking down my skin, and note how tired he actually looks. He still looks gorgeous don’t get me wrong, but I see the dark circles around his eyes as if he hasn’t slept for days, and the stubble is more noticeable than usual.

  Now that he’s almost completely bare in front of me I see every inch of coloured skin, decorated by different pieces of work that cover one entire arm and span across the top of his chest, and partially up his neck. Jesus Christ this guy is a walking, talking version of what turns me on, of what I want and realise I need. He’d be the type to accept me and all my sins.