Taken By A Sinner (The Sinners Series)

Temptation, wrapped in black silk, floats down the stairs, and every fucking pair of male eyes lock onto her.

The itch to rip my gun out and go to town on every fucker who dares to ogle Tess crawls beneath my skin.

This is fucking ridiculous.

Tossing the tumbler back, I down the whiskey, hoping it will calm the desire flooding my body.

The way Tess moves makes the silk shimmer beneath the electric lights. Her hair is styled straight, the tips flirting with her bare shoulders, the thin straps barely visible. The damn slit of the dress exposes too much of her leg, stopping short of being indecent.

She stays next to Athina, who stops to greet Olga, a socialite who grew up in our circle. When Tess turns to glance around the room, my mouth goes dry.

Jesus.

Her back is exposed, the silk nestled right above her ass. Fuck that ass. There’s too much skin, and her ass is fucking perfect. 

Then Tess, looking like a fucking wet dream, smiles at Olga as they’re introduced.

My gaze flits around the room, and a possessive rage burns in my chest when I see the other men practically salivating at the mouth for her.

Work has kept me busy, and it will only get busier with the Sicilians crawling out of the gutters and slithering onto my streets. I don’t have fucking time for this.

What the fuck was she thinking, wearing a dress like that?

I set the empty tumbler down on the table and stalk toward Tess. When her eyes land on me, they widen, and she moves in behind Athina.

As if she can fucking hide from me.

Reaching the women, I press a kiss to Athina’s temple. “Hi. Where’s Basil?”

My sister glances around the room then gestures to the stairs. “Probably still talking with Spiros. They ran into each other at the entrance.”

Without having to look, I reach for Tess and slipping a hand over her smooth skin just above her porn-worthy ass, I tug her to me. Her skin feels so soft it makes my desire spike dangerously high.

My eyes blaze over her face, which is covered with just the right amount of make-up to compliment her natural beauty. I lean down, and pressing a kiss to her forehead, her innocent scent fills my lungs.

Christ, this woman.

“We need to talk,” I mutter, and before she can argue, I push her toward the hallway leading to the restroom.

We’re attending the birthday party of our oldest member, Yiannis, who just turned eighty-one. It’s boring as fuck, but the man has been loyal to the mafia his entire life.

It’s the only reason I’m not dragging Tess home and stripping her out of the fucking dress.

The moment I shove Tess into the restroom, she mutters, “God, not again. What did I do now?”

I shut the door behind me and let my eyes rove over every delectable inch of her. I struggle to keep from showing her what will happen if she ever dares to wear something so provocative again.

Somehow I keep control over my temper as I level her with a dark glare. “What the fuck made you think it’s okay to wear this dress?”

A frown mars her forehead. “Athina helped me pick it. I’ve never attended events like this, and I called her for help, so if you have a problem with what I’m wearing, take it up with your sister.”

What the fuck was Athina thinking?

Shrugging out of my jacket, I wrap it around Tess’ shoulders so it will cover her ass, back, and shoulders. My actions have Tess giving me a what the fuck look.

“Just keep the fucking jacket on. I don’t need every man in a mile radius drooling over you.”

Tess tilts her head to the side, and with an unamused expression, she states, “It’s hot.”

Damn right, it’s fucking hot. Tess. Not the temperature. I don’t give a fuck if she dies of heatstroke. She’s keeping the jacket on.

I’m fucking rattled again. This is not good.

Scowling down at the girl that’s seriously becoming a thorn in my side, I mutter, “Don’t you dare take the jacket off. I swear I’ll bend you over my knee and spank you.”

Tess’ eyes widen, and her lips part in shock. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? And crossing a line by saying that to me?”

Overreacting? Maybe, and I don’t care to find out why. Denial is bliss.

Crossing a line? Who the fuck cares.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Theresa.” I take a step closer, the heat from her body calling to mine. “I don’t care about rules and fucking lines. If I say a dress is inappropriate, then it’s fucking inappropriate. If I tell you to do something, then you fucking do it.”

Even though fear shimmers in her eyes, Tess still scowls at me. “Do you talk to Athina like this? Or is it just me?”

“Athina fucking listens,” I almost bark.

“She chose the dress,” Tess reminds me. “Are you going to drag her into this restroom and give her an earful?”

No.

Fuck.

I don’t like being called out, and not knowing how to handle Tess, seeing as she’s actually innocent in this mess, I let out a frustrated breath.

Retaliating, I give her a final warning, “Never wear anything like this again. You make sure you’re fucking covered.”

Grabbing hold of her hand, I open the door and drag her ass back to the hall where the guests are gathered. I head straight for Athina, who lifts an eyebrow when she notices us approaching.

Stopping in front of my sister, I snap, “Don’t ever dress her like a fucking porn star again.”

The temper we both inherited from our father flares in Athina’s eyes. Lifting her chin, she gives me a chilling smile. “There’s nothing wrong with the dress. Tess looks stunning.”

Stunning. Yes.

Still.

“Don’t push me, Athina.”

My sister must see I’m close to losing my shit and wisely backs down. “I’m sorry, Nikolas. It won’t happen again.”

  With the issue settled, I pull Tess behind me as I make my way to the bar. I order a whiskey for myself, then glare down at the little minx who’s quickly turning my life upside down. “What do you want to drink?”

“If you’re going to drag me all over the place, I’ll definitely need water.” A curious expression flutters over her features, chasing away some of the usual fear I’ve come to expect when she looks at me. I see the questions mulling in her head, but instead of asking why I’m acting like this, she asks, “You’re aware I’m wearing heels? If I had known I’d be running after you, I would’ve worn my sneakers.”

For some reason, her smart mouth doesn’t stoke my temper but instead eases the tension in my body.

And it makes me want to kiss her.

Fuck.

“Water. In a glass,” I order. Then, checking with Tess, I ask, “Ice and lemon?”

“Please,” she smiles at the bartender.

I almost snap at her not to smile at the fucking man, but bite the order back.

This is really fucking ridiculous.

Unable to avoid my emotions any longer, I look deeper. Why the fuck am I losing my mind over this woman?

While we wait for the drinks, my eyes drift over her sinful body and settle on my fingers wrapped around hers. Inappropriate or not, my fingers flex, and I move to link them with hers.

Tess’ gaze darts down, her lips parting slightly.

Lifting our joined hands, I take in how delicate hers seems in mine. “You have small hands.”

“Uh-huh.”

My eyes lift to her beautiful, innocent face.

What is it about this woman that makes me act irrational?

Not able to put my finger on it, I turn my attention to the drinks as the bartender nudges them closer to us. Picking up the tumbler, I drink half, letting the alcohol soothe the confused emotions that have taken up residence in my chest.

Glancing over the room, I notice Yiannis has joined the party, and with Tess’ hand firmly in my grip, I walk toward the man to congratulate him.

“Nikolas,” Yiannis smiles, his face already red from celebrating a little too hard. “Thank you for coming.”

“Happy Birthday, Yiannis. My father regrets not being able to attend and sends his regards.”

Yiannis waves a hand in the air. “Is he enjoying his honeymoon?”

“I assume he is.”

His eyes flick to Tess, then down to where I’m gripping her hand tightly. He was at the wedding, so he should know precisely who she is.

“Have you met Theresa?” I ask, softly tugging her closer to me.

Yiannis smiles between us. “Yes, Peter introduced us. Your stepsister.” There’s an amused tone to his voice.

I hate that fucking word. I’ll never think of Theresa as my stepsister.