The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter seventeen.

"...AND MY FAVORITE part was definitely the dinosaur skeleton—the big T-Rex obviously. Oh wait, no! My favorite part was the Egyptian Mummy. Wait, wait!"

Elodie has about three hundred different favorite parts of our visit to the museum. Even though we arrived back at the apartment ten minutes ago, she is still buzzing with excitement.

"Why don't you go and draw some of your favorite parts?" Reaper suggests quietly and she practically jumps with joy at the idea, spinning in a flurry of blonde pigtails to race to her bedroom.

"Thank you," I tell him softly, reaching out and threading my fingers through his. "For today."

He paid for our tickets to the museum—they weren't pricey, but there's no way I could afford an extra expense like that at the moment.

He squeezes my hand, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"Do you think we can sneak into the shower while she's drawing?" I whisper, casting a look at the room my sister disappeared into.

A grunt leaves Reaper, his eyes closing. "Amelia..."

"What?" I gaze up at him innocently, though surely he knows better by now than to believe that.

I press against him, feeling his quickly hardening erection at the bottom of my stomach.

"Come on," I encourage.

His control wavers and then gives way completely. "Fine," he grits out.

"El, I'm just taking a shower!" I call out and hear her noncommittal reply; she's busy drawing, I am sure.

Clutching Reaper's hand, I sneak us into the bathroom and lock the door.

He presses me back against the counter and I am sure he is about to kiss me ferociously, but then he just rests his forehead against mine, stroking my arms softly.

Maybe the passion he felt for me that night we first had sex has just faded?

Disappointment settles in my stomach like a stone.

He starts unbuttoning my summer dress, revealing the lacy, see-through blue bra and underwear I don beneath it. I see his breath hitch and he pauses, staring at my body. But then he just continues on, sliding the dress down my shoulders and letting it pool to the floor. He unlatches my bra and I pull it off quickly, a little embarrassed now that I wore this set. I discard the rest of my clothes myself, far more fascinated in watching as he yanks his shirt over his head, revealing his muscled, tattooed chest.

I reach into the shower to turn it on hot and we step into the bathtub together, beneath the spray. His cock is hard, jutting out and dripping with precum. Although I'm hesitant, I still find the courage to wrap my hand around him. He leans down and kisses me tenderly, his lips brushing over mine again and again.

I tighten my grip on his erection, pumping it once and he groans. But then he turns me around and starts washing me with some soap and a cloth, careful to avoid any inappropriate areas.

At a certain point, I need to accept that he is carefully rebuffing my advances and respect his decision. It may frustrate me, but it's his choice at the end of the day.

I lean back into his chest and let him wash me, let myself be taken care of in a way I perhaps never have been. At least, not that I can remember.

Eventually, I take the cloth from him and turn to start washing him. I run it up his thick arms and the ridges of his abs. When I reach his dog tags, I pause and hook my finger through the thin metal chain. I swipe my thumb over the tag to rid it of water and read the name inscribed on it: Ryke Joseph Roberts.

"Your name is Ryke?" I ask, looking up at him.

He swallows and runs a hand over my damp hair. "It was."

I frown, wondering what a person has to go through to become so completely disassociated from their identity.

There is a round scar on his side that looks like an old bullet wound and another long one running across his hip. They are covered in tattoos—enough that I didn't notice them before.

"What about your family?" I ask hesitantly. "What do they call you?"

He reaches behind me and turns off the shower, then pulls a white towel from the rack and wraps it around me. "I don't speak to them anymore."

I watch him with wide eyes—does that mean he's all alone in the world?

He steps out of the tub and then grips my waist, lifting me out and setting me onto the bathmat.

"Do they live here, in the city?" I ask.

Frustration tinges the corners of his expression as he begins to dry me. "My parents might, I don't know. I haven't spoken to them since I enlisted. My sister moved down to Georgia with her kids."

"You don't speak to her either?"

This time, his face floods with pain. "No," he rasps out. "She doesn't want to see me."

"Why?" But I know I've pushed it too far. His expression shutters closed, jaw tightening.

"Enough, Amelia." He takes the towel and quickly dries himself roughly, turning away from me. "I need to duck back to my place and grab some clean clothes. I'll be back later."

Forlorn, I watch him snatch up his clothes, yank them on and leave.

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"Where's Reaper?" Elodie yawns, her hair fanning out around her like a halo. I tuck the covers up beneath her chin.

"He'll be back soon," I say, sounding more sure than I am. He's been gone for a few hours now; maybe I really did push him too far. I should've just respected his privacy.

"He was supposed to look at my drawings." She pouts.

"He will tomorrow, I promise."

Worry tightens my chest; I've never introduced a man to Elodie before as I've never liked any enough but also because I don't want her to get attached to another person who is just going to let her down, like her father.

She is already very attached to Reaper.

He can break my heart all he wants, I just hope he doesn't break hers.

Once she's asleep, I clean up in the kitchen and grab the full trash bag, slipping out the front door and striding down the stairs. When I am out in the night air, chilliness nips at my skin. Fall is well on its way.

I throw the trash bag into the big bin on the edge of the road and turn to head back inside, my hand on the doorknob, when suddenly my hair is yanked harshly. I cry out, stumbling backwards.

"You think you're so tough now, huh?" Anthony's face swims into view through the blur of tears in my eyes. "You think you're some hotshot, working for Sterling, having his bodyguard following you around all the time? You're still just a pathetic little girl, Amelia."

He shoves me to the ground and stands above me, his fury simmering and bubbling.

Last time he was here, Reaper humiliated him. Anthony's fragile ego has never been able to take that.

The only times he ever hit my mom were when he felt she'd undermined or embarrassed him.

"Do you think I won't take Elodie from you like that?" He snaps his fingers and then crouches down, over me. "I want my money."

"I don't have any money, Anthony!" I cry. "And Nathaniel won't give me another cent."

"But he'll post his bodyguard on you twenty-four hours a day? Bullshit. You're a shitty liar, Amelia. You always have been." He stands and winds his leg back to kick me hard in the stomach.

I cough and sputter, the wind completely knocked out of me.

"The price just went up to thirty thousand. Get me the money, or I tell my lawyer that I want full custody."

One final kick to my ribs and then he is striding away, leaving me on the ground in the dark.

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