Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

“What about your sister’s advice?”

“I’ve spent several times alone with you, and I’m still alive, with my virtue intact. My guess is, you’re a safer bet than a psycho taxi driver I might get.”

“You’re beyond reckless, cub.” He gestures with his chin toward the building across the street. “I’m parked over there.”

I wrap the massive coat tighter around me as I walk next to my stranger while he leads us to the black Dodge Charger. For every step he takes, I need to take two of my own to keep pace. Our arms brush ever so slightly as we walk. Just an occasional tiny graze, muted by the thick fabric of his coat. Nevertheless, to me, each contact feels like a small electrical shock through my system.

When we reach his ride, he opens the passenger door for me, then heads around the hood and gets behind the wheel. While he starts the car, I shoot a message to Dania, saying that I went home, then lean back in the leather seat.

“I guess I don’t have to give you my address,” I say.

The corners of my stalker’s mouth tilt up by a minuscule degree. If I wasn’t openly looking at him, I would have missed it. “No.”

I press my lips together, hiding a grin. “And should I be concerned by the fact you know where I live?”

His gaze captures and holds mine. “No.”

I’ve been lied to my face numerous times and failed to notice it, but there is something in this man’s eyes that makes me certain he’s telling the truth.

“Okay.” I nod and focus on the streetscape beyond the windshield.

We drive in silence after that, but the quiet is comfortable. Typically, I hate being in the company of others I don’t know well, when that awkward silence reigns. The need to fill it with empty small talk gets overwhelming, but so is the fear of sounding dumb. My stranger doesn’t appear pressured to break the tranquility between us. Me, neither. It’s nice to simply be with someone and be at peace.

It starts to rain, puddles quickly forming along the road and reflecting the array of white and red lights of the cars around us. The windshield wipers are swishing rapidly, trying to keep up with the downpour.

Left-right.

Left-right.

Left . . .

“Cub.” The husky voice barely penetrates my haze. “We’re here.”

“Okay.” Instead of opening my eyes, I bury my face deeper into the coarse wool. It faintly smells like the forest—a citrusy pine and earthy aroma.

A car door shuts somewhere. Another click, and the scent of fresh rain invades my senses. Hands adjust the earthy warmth around me, and then, I’m floating. Held in someone’s arms. Not someone’s.His. God, it feels so good.

Cars sound in the distance, wind blows in my face. I turn my head and snuggle my nose into my dark stranger’s neck, inhaling. Calm.

Heat radiates around me. A slight bounce against his chest. I stay adrift, lulled by the hollow echo of his footfalls. Lots of them. He’s carrying me up the stairs.

“Where’s your key?”

“I don’t know. Let me sleep.”

Stillness. Silence. Then, a loud bang.

“Your door sucks.”

More steps. Soft squeaks of wooden floorboards. The balm of my favorite fabric softener as my cheek touches the pillow. Hmm. I miss the aroma of the forest as it starts to fade away.

To dreamland . . . No.

Gruff, broken voice speaking quickly. “Right away!” It sounds like an order. Makes me want to obey.

I crack my eyes open and find my stranger standing by my bed, holding a phone to his ear.

“Sleep. Someone will be here to fix the door.”