Sinful Rewards 4 by Cynthia Sax

Author:Cynthia Sax
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Chapter Five

I RETURN TO the condo, change into my yoga pants and T-shirt, and clean the space, packing the decorations in a box. Putting the rooms in order restores my confidence.

Cyndi texts me. Her message consists of four words—I’m in Hollywood, beyotch. I laugh. Only my vivacious, insanely wealthy friend would fly across the country on a whim.

Cyndi is spending the weekend with the man of her dreams. Lona is in love. I wander to the window and stare across the park at three eleven north.

The setting sun paints the sky orange and red. Shadows stretch across Hawke’s empty balcony. I bend over, peek into Cyndi’s brass telescope, the device I’ve sworn never to use again. A light deep within Hawke’s condo casts a warm glow on the bare hardwood floor, the emptiness in the space echoing the loneliness in my heart. He’s a temporary resident as I am.

I straighten, pull on the chain hanging around my neck, and close my fingers over the dog tags, the metal warmed by my body. He hasn’t left me. Not yet.

My phone buzzes, dancing over the red kitchen counter, and I rush to retrieve the device before it falls off the edge, shatters on the floor. It must be Nicolas calling. He hasn’t contacted me all day.

Because he’s occupied with work, I remind myself. He warned me he’d be busy. Even if he thought about me, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to call.

Until now.

I glance down at the small screen. There’s a text.

Friendly: Strip in front of your bedroom window. Good girls earn rewards.

Since I’m convinced Friendly is Nicolas, this message excites and reassures me. He’s thinking of me, perhaps watching me on his security cameras. Hopefully not the security cameras at the entrance of the building. A flush of guilt mixed with arousal sweeps over me as I remember how Hawke kissed me in front of the cameras. . .multiple times.

I move into my bedroom and close the door. Hawke will benefit from this striptease also. I open the curtains and stare into the twilight, the darkening grays and blacks concealing my audience. Both of my men will be watching me, wanting me, my badass biker and my sophisticated billionaire, my today and my forever.

I’ll be pleasing them while I please myself, bringing my most perverted fantasies to life. Before I can think about the consequences of my actions, I pull my T-shirt over my head. I then hesitate, the cotton twisted in my hands. Passion isn’t tidy, Hawke said.

I toss the garment on the floor. It lands in a messy heap. I tear my gaze away from the puddle of blue fabric, force myself to focus on my striptease, swaying, touching, teasing.

My gaze returns to the discarded T-shirt. Oh, hell. I can’t leave it on the floor. I bend, pick up the garment, fold it into a neat square, and place it carefully on my chair. My chin lifts. I can almost hear Hawke’s chuckle, see his lopsided smile, the humor in his eyes, feel his hands on me.

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