Page 8 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
Told you I was damaged.
"Do. You. Like. One-night stands? Casual sex? Quick fucks over the sink in a random bathroom?" he repeats, just standing there while his friends try to tear the door off its hinges. What the hell do they think he's going to do to me?
"I do, yes." My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and I flick a quick look at the sink.
"Good," he says, and then he's stepping forward and slamming a palm against the wall on either side of my head. "What would you say if I told you I was feeling sinful today?"
"You're not a priest," I blurt and Arsen laughs, standing up and throwing his head back. "None of you are."
"Now, what makes you say that?" he asks, dropping his chin back down so he can stare at me with those terrifyingly beautiful blue eyes of his. His blond hair falls across his face, the ends kissing his high cheekbones. "Maybe I'm just having a little trouble controlling myself right now? Do you want to fuck me, Natalia Petrova?" he continues, completely and utterly blatant about it. I hate him almost instantly, at the same time I'm attracted to him. “Because I can make that happen real quick for both of us.”
One hand leaves the wall, sliding across those granite abs and flicking open the button on his pants. He’s hard. So damn hard. It takes more effort than I care to admit, just to tear my eyes from the straining fabric of his crotch.
“Is that why your friends are screaming? They think you’re going to try and rape me?” I demand, but Arsen just laughs, this cruel, awful sound that I shouldn’t like but that I do anyway.
“Rape you? No. They think I’m going to kill you, Natalia Petrova.” He grins at me, but there’s nothing pleasant about the expression. The sound of a gun going off outside the door makes me jump and Arsen shakes his head like he’s disappointed as hell over something. “Stupid ass idiots, Weston and Colt. You can’t shoot a lock off, motherfuckers!” he shouts, grumbling something under his breath about them knowing better.
I’m downright terrified in that moment … that, and turned the fuck on. I must be a crazy person.
"Who's Weston?" I ask breathlessly, grasping the most normal part of what he just said like a life raft. I know Colt was the blond-haired, green-eyed devil I met last night, but I have no idea who Weston could be. A fifth fake-priest?
Arsen grins at me, and it's the sort of grin I imagine demons wear as they tempt you into signing over your soul. Full of sex, and hunger.
"I tell you they're worried I'll kill you, and all you want to know is 'who's Weston'?" His grin spreads wider until he’s just almost laughing. "Oh, Natalia Petrova, I am going to have some fun with you. Before I kill you, that is."
The way he says fun makes it sounds like a dirty word. I fucking love it.
I choose to ignore the comment about killing me, because he’s clearly trying to scare me.
"Now, angel. I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. " His voice cracks with authority that makes me shiver with arousal.
Jesus fucking Christ. I really am messed up.
"Do I want to fuck you?" I repeat and my eyes dart from Arsen to the door, and then back again. I'm scared, yeah. Freaking terrified. But do I want to leave? "Yes, I do," I breathe out, so quiet I can barely hear myself. He hears me though, and his tongue runs over his lower lip as he appraises me standing there in nothing but a T-shirt.
He leans his broad, tattooed back on the door, folding his massive arms over his chest and not making a single move to hide the enormous bulge in his pants.
"Take the shirt off," he commands and my hands automatically respond to that tone, grasping at the hem of my top before I pause.
"Wait. You didn't answer me before," I remind him, my teeth worrying at my lower lip. "Are you a priest? Like … a real one? Because you sure as shit don't seem like any priest I've ever met."
Arsen clicks his tongue, and narrows his eyes in a way that inspires a little more fear through my sex-addled body.
"Does it matter?" he challenges me, and I suck in a sharp breath. "Aren't you already soaking at the thought of fucking a priest?"
Slowly, almost without my permission, my head nods in agreement.
Damn, I really am going to hell for this.
"Well, then. I gave you a commandment, and I expect to see my Will Be Done."
Oh sweet Mary, mother of God … I'm so screwed.
Even with my limited knowledge of anything religious, I recognize the reference to the Lord's Prayer. It’s not like I've never stepped foot in a church before. Hell, my Daddy sent me to a Catholic girls’ school for a few years—before I was expelled—so I have a vague recollection of some bits and pieces of the Bible.
