Sinner (eBook)

A large hand slotted between the closing elevator doors, and Mary jolted. A boot wedged in at the bottom. Flint’s large body began squeezing through the tiny crack.

He wasn’t going to make it.

“Shit. Fuck. Hold the door,” came his deep male voice. 

Mary considered hitting the “open” button. That’s what a nun would do. But it was too much fun watching him squirm. Within seconds, Flint punched through in a burst and knocked her against the wall. His brandy brown eyes looked apologetic until he realized his baseball cap had left his head and was caught in the door. It slowly moved down the join as the elevator moved. He grasped, crouched and tugged. 

The muscles in Flint’s back rolled and bunched through his T-shirt. Mary allowed herself a moment of visual stimulation as he put his weight into one final tug that set his cap free. 

He straightened and quickly smoothed his hair, replacing his hat—backward—then caught her gaze. His light irises were rimmed in dark brown. The same dark brown as his hair and beard. Having spent most of her life under the tuition of feminist nuns, she hadn’t fully appreciated the joy of a well groomed man. Until now. The razor sharp line of his facial hair accentuated his strong jawline, and Mary knew, without a doubt, that he spent countless hours a week dedicated to his presentation. He struck her as the type who set his mind to something with dogged determination. 

His straight brows snapped together.

“I know you heard me,” he said.

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked you to hold the door.”

Mary stifled her amusement. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the bullshit, Sister. You act all pious around everyone else, but I’m onto you.”

Mary’s heart leapt into her throat and, for a split second, she feared their unspoken rule was about to be broken. She should’ve kept her snarky retort to herself, but he’d made it so easy. Her bottom lip dragged between her teeth, and the urge to wipe that smug smile off his face won. “If anyone is getting onto anyone around here, it’d be me.”

That came out wrong.

He stepped closer and the walls of the lift closed in. Mary hadn’t realized she’d backed up until her butt hit the wall and he placed a hand on the space beside her head, lips perilously close to hers. Sweet Mother he smelled delectable. Musky, manly and with a touch of mint.

“You’re no nun,” he said, voice low and intimate. “Admit it.”

Her breath hitched. He was so close to the truth.

She pushed his chest with a flat hand but he didn’t budge. A well-aimed jab to the carotid would drop him, but she couldn’t remove her palm from his chest, or tear her gaze from his. 

Electricity zipped through her as he lifted his free hand to cover hers.

Stop me if you dare, his dark eyes challenged, eyebrow arching confidently.

Her own arched back. I dare.