Guilty as Sin: Sin City Series Book 1
Sin City Series
A UFC fighter caught up in the world of organized crime risks his one chance at freedom to save the woman he loves.
As a UFC fighter, Sinclair Reed aka Sinister 3, always had a plan. Getting tangled up with the mob, or falling in love with a woman he can’t forget, never factored into it.
After a brief affair, bestselling author, Cherie Bouchard, thought she’d seen the last of UFC light middleweight champ “Sinister 3” when they parted ways at the airport. Determined to discover if her feelings are real for Sinclair, or the result of her hopeless romantic imagination, she purchases tickets to his fight when the UFC comes to town.
As the lovers re-unite, they discover someone wants him dead, and Sinclair has twenty-four hours to choose between Cherie and freedom. For a smart guy like him, it should be a no-brainer. When it comes to the woman he loves, he’s as guilty as sin.
The pretty smile and finger wave of the woman standing behind the reporter caught Sinclair’s attention. Ignoring the microphone shoved in his face, he peered over the shoulder of the reporter. The chestnut haired beauty caused his heart to stutter. It can’t be… He shouldered his way past the man to stand in front of Cherie.
“Hi.” Cherie Bouchard’s soft voice greeted him.
“Hey yourself,” his voice cracked like a pubescent schoolboy.
“Congratulations,” Cherie offered. “That was an awesome fight.”
A flash of light caused Sinclair to blink. He rounded on the reporter. “Out,” he commanded, lifting his chin at his manager, Saul Stuart.
Saul ushered the protesting man out of the dressing room, and Sinclair returned his attention to Cherie once the door clicked shut after them. “Sorry about that. It’ll probably end up in tomorrow’s paper.”
Cherie shrugged a shoulder and gave a small chuckle. “I could use more publicity.”
I can’t believe it… The woman who had haunted the majority of his waking moments for the past few months stood before him in skinny jeans, knee-high leather boots, and a wrap around sweater thing, with a peach camisole peeking out at the bust-line.
Surprise overrode his good manners. “What are you doing here?”
“Not happy to see me?” she asked, nibbling her lower lip, worry flashing in her eyes.
He clenched his jaw, stifling a groan as her teeth worried the lip he remembered biting in a moment of passion. Drawn to her like a magnet, he stepped toward her. Settling his hands on her shoulders, he bent his head and feathered a kiss across her brow. Her light perfume scent wafted up his nostrils, and his cock hardened.
“Just surprised.” He kept some distance between them, lest she feel the hard-on tenting his shorts.
Her hands came to rest on his elbows, offering a light embrace. Memories of their three day lust-filled encounter in Las Vegas six months ago infiltrated his mind. He wouldn’t be able to conceal his attraction for long at this rate.
“I do live in this town,” she whispered, glancing up into his eyes. “It’s not every day the UFC comes to Winnipeg. I figured I’d get in on the action, so to speak.”
Sinclair snickered at the double entendre, then sucked in a breath at the loud thump of his heart. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. Cherie was one fuck he knew he’d never be able to forget. He closed his eyes and released a breath. If he was honest with himself, the feelings he had for her were way more than “a good fuck”.
Cherie stepped back from him, keeping her eyes on his face. One hand wiggled a VIP badge around her neck. “Back stage passes. I couldn’t resist coming to the fight since it was here and…” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “I wanted to see you again.”
He took the opportunity to walk—not without pain, mind you—to the bench and snatched up a towel, holding it in front of him. The smirk she tried to suppress told him she’d already seen the beast attempting to break free of his shorts.
“I’m glad you did,” he said, never meaning four words more in his life. He had missed her, and tried not to think about her. Long distance relationships were difficult enough, and with his training and fight schedule, he didn’t think he could give her what she deserved.
If he were honest, he didn’t believe he deserved the love she could offer, so he’d treated her like every other woman in his life—‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. It ate at him every day. She deserved better, and it was the reason he’d broken his promise to keep in touch with her.
“I’m sorry.” He’d blurted the words before he could stop them. Where the fuck is my unshakable control when I need it? He felt more nervous now than he had while warming up for the fight earlier.
“Sorry for what?” Her eyebrows scrunched in curiosity. “For not calling or keeping in touch like you promised?”
Shot straight to the heart. No response would be sufficient.
“Relax—I’m kidding.” Her smile warmed the cold chill in his heart. “I didn’t really expect you to and I’m not here for an apology.”
“You’re not?” A wary note edged his voice.
“No, I’m not.” Shy now, she tucked a few strands of hair behind one ear. “I…well, I…” One hand rubbed at her brow. “I’m going to sound like an idiot,” she muttered. Steeling herself, she stood straighter and looked him straight in the eye. “I missed you. And I wanted to see if these feelings were real or the wild imagination of my writer’s brain.”
Unspoken communication passed between them—desire, longing, raw sensuality. She gestured between them. “So, that’s all this is between us? Lust?”
“Is that what you came to ask me?”
Swallowing hard, her head bobbed an affirmative. “I suppose.”
Sinclair cast his gaze downward, before locking it onto her. “No. Yes.” He sighed in exasperation. “Truth is…I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I said good-bye.” The admission lightened a burden he hadn’t been aware he’d carried.
Her breath caught, and she pressed a hand to her heart. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” Truth sets you free.
“Jesus H… I thought it was just me.” Pacing in a small circle, she gestured in a wild fashion. “I tried so hard to put you behind me, to tell myself it was only a good time… But I just couldn’t—”
He interrupted. “Get me out of your head?”
Sheepish, she nodded.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “That’s how I felt, but about you.” Sinclair waved his arm in a helpless gesture. “I didn’t want to hurt you. You’re an amazing woman. But with my training schedule, and the distance—I didn’t want to commit to something—”
“Stop.” Cherie raised both hands in front of her. “Don’t. I thought maybe if I saw you again, I’d see you for who you are and be able to get you out of my system once and for all. Turns out—not so much.”
“This’ll make me sound like more of a jerk, but just because I’ve thought of you often, doesn’t mean I’ve been celibate since we parted.”
A light laugh accompanied her shrug. “I didn’t expect you to be. We had no commitment. I’ve been on a date or two as well.”
Unexpected jealousy reared its ugly head. Sinclair bristled, a low growl sounding in his throat at the thought of her with another man, his hands on her, fucking her.
Curiosity etched her brow. “Let’s agree not to talk about our sex lives,” she suggested.
Sinclair gave a curt nod. “Agreed.” He shifted in his seat, legs splayed.
Her eyes were drawn to his crotch. Moistening her lips again, she quickly averted her gaze.
“Cherie,” he said, voice low when he spoke. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you. I just can’t think of anything coherent to say. Not when I want you the way I do.”
“You’ve already warned me. Understood.”
For a moment, he wondered if she’d walk away. He half hoped she would, simplifying their lives.
With deliberate slowness, she untied the knot at her waist, letting the sweater fall open and hang from her shoulders to reveal the silky fabric of her tank top for a moment before letting it fall to the floor. Cherie shimmied her shoulders, the thin straps of her top, sliding down her arms.
Sinclair sucked in a breath as the top snagged on her beaded nipples for a second, the built-in bra dissolving as the shirt slid down her torso. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, believe me, I want to.” Cherie wriggled her hips, and in a dull swish of clothing, jeans, shirt and panties pooled on the floor at her feet.
His erection grew as his eyes roamed over her body from head to toe. Nude, she posed in front of him, one hand on jutted hip. He watched her breasts rise and fall with each panting breath. She lifted her chin, and he took the hint, unzipping his jeans, and sliding the material down over his hips, lifting his ass to remove them altogether. He lowered himself into the seat a little more, cock straining against his boxer briefs.
She tilted her head in a coy gesture. “It’s not a fair fight.”
With a chuckle, he stripped off his underwear, allowing his cock to spring to attention. The scent of her arousal wafted over to him, assaulting his senses. He extracted a condom from the wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, and rolled it down his dick.
Swaying her hips, she sauntered toward him, and reached for his T-shirt. He lifted his arms for her to take it off.
His arms circled her waist. “Come here, baby.”
An ear-to-ear grin on her face, Cherie climbed onto his lap, one knee on either side of his thighs, hands resting on his shoulders.
Sinclair gripped her hips, guiding her pussy until she was poised over his cock which strained to get inside her. He searched her eyes for any sign of hesitation. “You sure?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” She lowered her hips until the plump head of his cock probed her slick entrance. Her hot, wet pussy melted around his hard shaft as he slid home. Her head tipped back, eyes rolled up to the ceiling.
“Fuck, baby.” Sinclair panted, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, his tongue licking a path along the ridge and up the column of her throat. He resisted the urge to flip her to her back and fuck her like an animal in heat. “I’ve missed you.”
The tears shining in her eyes tugged at his heart. “I’ve missed you, too, Sin,” she whispered, using the nickname she’d given him as a play on his fighting name, “Sinister Three”.
“Ride me, Sweetheart. Now.”
Distance aside, he had a secret. It ate at him every day, but he’d learned to live with it. It was one of the reasons he kept women at a distance. Would Cherie’s opinion of him change once she found out? It wasn’t something he could keep from her forever. He didn’t believe anyone would accept him for who he was, or what he’d been forced to do.
Out of the blue, someone jostled Sinclair’s leg, and a red card dropped into his lap. “Hey! Buddy!”
The man ignored him, continuing on in a hurried pace to the exit. Sinclair turned the card over in his hand. A date, time and location were printed in block letters on the back of it. Shit!
He jumped up and followed, catching sight of the guy as he rounded the corner of the building. Running to catch up, Sinclair ducked a kick to the head, a boot heel grazing his eyebrow. He stepped around and stared at his opponent, trying to place the face. The man wore mirrored shades and a ball cap. Other than average height and build, there wasn’t anything Sinclair recognized about him.
Shouts caught their attention. The man pointed a finger at Sinclair. “You know what to do, unless you want your woman harmed.” Then he took off, disappearing behind some dumpsters.
A couple in the parking lot hurried up to Sinclair, asked if he was all right and inquired about calling the police. Sinclair shook it off, making a few comments about some idiot with road rage, saying he’d take care of speaking to law enforcement. Placated, the couple returned to their vehicle, and Sinclair made his way back into the store.
The crowd remained steady, so he decided a walk to clear his head might help. He went around to Cherie’s side of the table and whispered in her ear. “If it’s okay, I’ve got a little shopping to do.”
“Sure.” Her hazel eyes searched his. “Is everything okay? I saw you rush out of here, and you seemed upset.”
“Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “Just some jerk. I’ll be back shortly. Don’t leave without me.”
“All right. I won’t.” Cherie focused her attention on another fan in front of her.
Sinclair took that as his cue to leave. Hopefully, she’d be safe inside a crowded bookstore surrounded by people. He pushed aside the worrisome thought that if someone truly meant her harm, it wouldn’t matter where she was.
No one is going to harm my woman. He’d die before that happened, but judging by recent events someone clearly sought to make it a reality.
Stepping outside the store, he heaved a sigh, closed his eyes and let the warmth of the sun permeate his body. A five minute respite would be all right.
How long could he blame his father for his own mistake? He never should’ve agreed to a street fight to pay off his father’s debt. Amazing how one wrong move could affect his entire life.
But if he was honest, would he have made any other choice? His dad was flesh and blood. How would he have lived with himself knowing he could have prevented his demise and done nothing? The irony didn’t escape him. He’d fought, refusing to kill. Since he hadn’t heard a peep from his old man, he assumed him dead, therefore his sacrifice had been for naught. Now the mob threatened not only his life, but Cherie’s as well. He had to find a way to make this right. He couldn’t continue to pay penance, nor would he allow Cherie to be sucked into a situation she knew nothing about.