Wicked Ruin (Se7en Sinners Book 3) by S.L. Jennings

Wicked Ruin (Se7en Sinners Book 3) by S.L. Jennings

Author:S.L. Jennings [Jennings, S.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Se7en Sinners, Book 3
Publisher: S.L. Jennings
Published: 2017-09-25T05:00:00+00:00


I bathe in the fragrant oils and bath salts displayed beside the clawfoot tub. My skin feels like silk and smells like sweet pea and lavender. I was going for soothing, but if I’m being honest, I wanted to make the breathing ritual as pleasing to Niko as possible. And since I’ve been training all day that definitely called for a bath.

I let my hair dry in silver ringlets below my shoulder blades while I search for something to wear. Gym clothes don’t seem appropriate, and neither do combat boots or a hoodie, so I settle on one of Irin’s sarongs and bra top ensembles. I opt for all black, although the high slit that hits the top of my right thigh is a bit obscene paired with the strappy bralette adorned with glittering black gems along the bust. My first instinct is to go for comfort and slip on the flats I wore before, but it just doesn’t go. Pumps it is, which sexes the entire outfit up about ten notches. For someone who doesn’t want a sexual attachment to her best guy friend, I’m pretty much a walking contradiction in four-inch heels.

Makeup is minimal, mostly because I don’t want to make it look like I’m trying too hard. And once my hair is dry, I tie it up in a top knot. Then it’s just a couple doors and a hallway that separates me from Niko and the breathing ritual.

I don’t understand why I’m so nervous as I walk to his room. Hell, even the thought of being in the confined space where he sleeps and bathes and God knows what else is freaking me out. I’m not some naïve maiden who hasn’t ever been alone with a guy before, and it’s not like I was raised with strong, conservative values. But this is Niko—everything about him is sex and seduction. I just never imagined being on the receiving end of his charms.

Deep breath and I knock.

Nikolai swings open the door, and the air in my lungs tumbles out of me unceremoniously.

He stands there, hair a muss of onyx waves and blue eyes sparkling. He’s wearing dark slacks and a slim-fit shirt with the top few buttons unfastened. The room is dim, illuminated by at least a dozen candles from what I can see, and there’s music playing.

“Come in,” Niko drawls, stepping to the side to usher me in.

I nod my thanks as I pass, and take in the room. I’ve been here before, but for some reason, it seems different—more intimate. Not like the first time we hung out here, chatting like old friends. Even his four-poster bed looks like it’s primed and ready for seduction.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks, heading to the small bar stationed in the corner closest to the bathroom. I hate that I feel like all we do is drink and talk shit, but if there was ever a time to self-medicate with booze, it’s now.

“Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

He brings me a few fingers of scotch, which I gladly accept, taking a long swig.



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