Early Sins (Dangerous Games Book 0) by Jennifer Bene Page B

floor, nibbling at her lip as it continued and there was no stifling the quiet moan that escaped her as they tentatively deepened the kiss. With a brief brush of tongues, Smith suddenly jerked himself back, sitting up on her hips, and then he threw himself backwards. He landed gracelessly a few feet away, and she sat up, staring at him as if she could mentally confirm that it was okay, that she wanted it, but her tongue was tied up in the knots he’d made of it when he’d kissed her back.
    “Session is over,” he said and shoved himself off the floor. A moment later he was shut in the bathroom of their hotel room, while she was still sitting, stunned, beside the coffee table.
    His touch was a phantom on her skin, his lips a ghostly memory across her own, but she stayed where she was and memorized it. The taste of his lips, the salt of his sweat, the incredible gentleness of his touch combined with all the raw power of his body, of what she knew he was capable of - she had to memorize it because it was probably the last time he'd ever touch her like that.
    “ Shit …” she whispered and pushed herself off the floor, moving over to the door to press her forehead against it. The cool wood felt good on her skin, and for a moment she couldn’t tell if her heart was racing from the fight, the knife, or the kiss.
    Probably the kiss.
    “Smith?” Rapping her fingernails on the wood she waited, listening for movement. “Don’t make a fucking deal out of it. Come out.”
    The sound of the tiny plastic trashcan being nudged across the tile was the only response.
    “Look, I’m sorry I fucking kissed you.” She swallowed around the words, because she didn’t mean them. She’d been wanting to kiss him for almost two years, had wanted to feel his skin against hers when they weren’t fighting. A kiss didn’t feel like much to her, but apparently it was everything to Smith.
    It’s because you’re tainted and he knows it.
    Dirty. Damaged. Unworthy of someone like him.
    With a growl Camille slammed her hand on the wood of the door. “Don’t be a little bitch, Smith! If you don’t want me, just fucking say it. Don’t lock yourself in a God damned bathroom!” Rattling the locked doorknob she kicked the wood and walked away. Fuming as she stared across the hotel room.
    Just another hotel room.
    Another new place in the city.
    Another set of double beds.
    One more room that served as evidence just in its existence for how much Smith did not want her, had never wanted her, and never would want her. The stinging presence of tears made her blink, and she grabbed the hotel directory and threw it at the door. “Fuck you, Smith. You – dammit, you bastard! If you don’t want me just say it!”
    The door popped open and Smith was framed in the doorway by the darkness behind him, sweat making his shirt cling to every inch of perfect muscle. Pants low on his hips, drawing her eyes to all the places she shouldn’t be looking. “Fine. I don’t want you, C.”
    It was like he’d stuck the knife between her ribs, puncturing a lung and making it impossible to breathe. For some reason the words had seemed harmless in her head, but coming from Smith’s lips they felt like razorblades. “You - you’re an asshole.”
    “No. I just don’t want you. Don’t do that again.” Cold, jade eyes stared at her from the doorway, not quite meeting hers but floating somewhere around the center of her forehead.
    Camille huffed out a breath, swallowing the bitter pain. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
     

     
    Smith watched as Camille grabbed her jacket and headed to the door. His body twitched, fighting the urge in his muscles to stop her, that mindless urge to pull her against him so he could kiss her again – do all kinds of things with her.
    But it was wrong, and so he did nothing.
    Did nothing as she looked back at him again, waiting for him to ask her to stop, to stay, and when he kept his mouth closed – she left. The door slammed