A Sinner’s Truth: Chapter 16

It’s hot. Why is it so hot?

The moment I open my eyes, the events of yesterday hit me. I got married. To a complete stranger. I’m in a fake marriage with a mafia prince. I’m in his bed. And it’s his big, heavy, tattooed arm that’s draped over me right now.

Shit. How the hell did we end up like this? He’s spooning me. My body stills. I don’t know what to do. He’s warm, so damn warm. I feel like I’m burning up. I need to get out of this bed.

Santo tightens his grip around my waist, as if he can read my thoughts. And then I feel it. His dick pressing into my thigh. He’s hard. Like really hard. And big. Why is he so hard? And why is being this close to him doing things to me?

Okay, I know why. It’s because he’s fucking hot. I’m not blind. I might not enjoy sex. That doesn’t mean I don’t get turned on. And right now, I’m so turned on I can feel myself weeping.

I attempt to wiggle out from underneath his arm. Santo stirs and pulls me back against his chest. His hand roams down my stomach until his fingers find my pussy.

Shit, I need to stop him. He’s still asleep. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Santo.” I grab his hand, pausing his fingers from exploring me any further.

“Mhmm.”

“Wake up,” I tell him.

“I am awake.” He moves his fingers through my folds, despite me holding his arm.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Giving you what you need,” he says, shoving a finger into my opening.

Oh god, shit. That feels good. “We can’t do this,” I whisper.

“We’re not doing anything. Fuck, you’re wet.” Santo pumps in and out a few more times before sliding his hand up to my clit. “I want to help you,” he says while rubbing slow, languid circles.

It feels good, like really good. I’ve never had a guy give me an orgasm before. Like ever. I’m so close, and all he’s doing is rubbing my clit. How is this happening right now?

Oh god. A moan escapes my lips, and I swear I hear Santo growl against my shoulder. And then I explode. I see stars, my vision blurs, and I feel like I’m floating.

Santo lifts his arm off me, and I roll over and watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth before sucking them clean.

“Fucking delicious,” he says.

“Santo, what are we doing?” I ask him. We agreed to no sex.

He looks at me, and I see it. The moment it hits him. The reality of what he just did. “I gave you what you needed. It’s nothing,” he mumbles as he climbs off the bed.

It’s nothing. I try not to let those words stab me right through my chest. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“What the fuck are you sorry about?” he asks. I watch his retreating back disappear into the closet. He comes out a few minutes later, dressed in a black shirt and a pair of grey sweats.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to do that. You didn’t. You don’t.”

“I wanted to do it.” He shrugs.

“But we agreed…” I start to say, and he quickly cuts me off.

“That wasn’t sex, darling. If that’s what you think sex is, no wonder you don’t like it.” He smirks.

I have no words. We need to stay firmly in the friend zone. Although he was really good at what he just did. And I wouldn’t complain if I woke up like that every day.

“Don’t overthink it, Aria. We’re married, and you’re not seeing anyone else for the next twelve months. Which means, if you need a release, I’m going to give it to you and I can do that without fucking you.” He says this so casually.

“What about you?” Is he going to want me to return the favour? Do I want to?

Oh my god, I do.

“What about me?” he asks.

“Won’t you need… something? A year is a long time to go without sex for someone that actually likes it.”

“I don’t need anything from you, Aria, nor do I expect anything. I’m good. I’ve gone the last year and a half without sex. I think I can manage another twelve months,” he says. Then he walks out of the room. Just walks out.

He hasn’t slept with anyone since his fiancée died? No wonder he agreed to the no sex rule so easily. It’s a good thing this isn’t a real relationship, because I don’t think there is any competing for that man’s heart. He’s still grieving the loss of his fiancée, which is understandable. I’ve never been in love like that. I have no idea if people ever really get over that kind of loss.

I pull myself out of bed, walk into his closet, and grab a pair of sweats. I have to roll the waistband up a few times to get them to stay. I really need to go home. I need clothes. I need my own toiletries.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, Santo’s youngest brother is standing there with his wife. “Your husband wants us to take you to your apartment so you can pack,” Vin says.

“Where’d he go?” I ask.

“He had some errands.” Vin turns and walks out the front door, his hand gripped around Cammi’s.

“He’ll meet us at your place later,” she calls over a shoulder with a kind smile directed my way.

“Okay, but I can just get an Uber. You guys don’t need to be put out,” I tell Vin, following him out the front door.

He spins around. “You’re family. It’s not putting us out.”

These guys really do embrace the whole family thing, don’t they? Although the kid’s tone and facial expression tell me he’s not all that impressed.

The moment I walk into my apartment, I’m shoved behind a body. Not a body. Behind Vin. The kid moves so damn quick. One minute he’s standing at my back, the next he’s in front of me. Pointing a gun at Drew’s head.

Wait, a gun? Where did that even come from?

“You’ve got two seconds to tell me who you are and why the fuck you’re in my sister’s apartment,” Vin says.

“Oh my god, stop.” I step around him. “Seriously? This is Drew, my friend,” I explain.

Vin tilts his head. “Why is he in your apartment?”

“Because, like I said, he’s my friend. Can you put that away? You’re making me nervous,” I tell him.

“Vin, kiss me.” Cammi says. And like a switch has been flipped, Vin lowers the gun, turns around, and kisses his wife as if they’re the only ones in the room.

I walk over to Drew and throw my arms around him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper next to his ear. He looks a little pale, but I would be too if I had a gun aimed at my head.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“I am,” I tell him. “You can’t let on that the marriage is fake. No one knows.”

“You went and married a stranger. What the hell were you thinking?” Drew hisses as I step back.

“I was thinking I found my person, and I kind of thought my best friend would be happy that I found someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.” My arms fold over my chest, and that’s when I take note that I’m still wearing Santo’s clothes.

“I’d be happier if you took a little longer to get to know your person,” Drew grumbles.

“Well, we all move to the beat of our own drum, right?” I smile. “I’m happy, Drew. I really need you to be happy for me too.”

“I am happy for you. Are you going to have a registry? Do you buy people wedding gifts after they elope?” he asks me.

“I don’t need gifts,” I tell him. “I do, however, need to shower and pack a few things.”

“You’re moving out?” Drew balks, sounding way more pissed off than he was a minute ago.

“I’m moving in with my husband.”

“You can’t be serious.” He shakes his head.

“I can be. It’s what married people tend to do, Drew.” My eyes bore into his, begging him to go along with this whole charade.

Although, it didn’t feel all that fake this morning when Santo had his fingers on me, when he brought me the kind of pleasure I’ve only ever given myself.

“This isn’t going to end well, Aria,” Drew says.

“Actually, it is. Please, just let me be happy,” I plead with him.

“Okay… I’ll play along.” Drew nods.

“Thank you. Now, I’m starving. Can you make waffles while I have a quick shower?” I smile and bat my eyelashes at him.

“Fine, go shower. You smell like sex,” Drew tells me. My entire face heats up. And then his eyes widen. He knows we did… something.

I turn and hightail it into my bedroom before he can question me further. “Vin and Cammi, make yourselves at home,” I call out before I shut the door.

I lean against the other side and count to three, waiting to see if the world is going to just put me out of my misery and swallow me whole. When it doesn’t, I push off the door and walk right into my bathroom.

After showering with my own products, I wrap a towel around myself and step out. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me!” I gasp, my hand landing on my chest when I see Santo sitting on my bed.

He needs to stop doing that, or we might not need the divorce. Because I might just have a heart attack instead.