The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter fifty-one.

THE SUN IS high in the cloudless sky, and the road stretching around us is quiet.

"Stay there," Nathaniel instructs. He's as breathless as I am, though somehow upright. If I tried to stand right now, I'd crumple to the floor.

The hood of this car feels suspiciously comfortable. Could I just sleep here?

Practically naked and covered in come for anyone to see? Not a great idea, the logical voice in my head points out, though it is soft and seems to speak from very far away, some distant corner of my mind. My eyes slide closed.

I feel a napkin wiping at my back, then gently between my legs.

A few moments later, Nate says, "Come on." He picks me up and carries me around to the passenger side.

"What about my clothes?" I mewl, my head lolling on his shoulder.

He says nothing, placing me in the seat and clicking my seatbelt across my body.

After closing my door, he circles back in front of the car and retrieves my jeans, my shirt and my bralette that fell off completely at some point during the reckless sex we just engaged in.

When he gracefully slides into the driver's side, I reach for my clothes to redress, but he throws them into the backseat.

"Nate!" I protest. "We can't drive around with me like...this!" I'm only in my thin, lacy underwear.

"Sure we can." He smooths down his hair and sends me a roguish grin. His trousers have been fastened again, though a few of his shirt buttons are still undone. "I like you better like this." He eyes my body appreciatively as he puts the car in drive.

I huff and cross my arms over my chest.

We take off just as another car speeds past us in the opposite direction. I sink down into my seat, my cheeks flaming with mortification. If they had come by only three minutes ago, then they would've gotten quite the show. Luckily the windows of this car are tinted almost black.

Nate's hand goes to my thigh, caressing softly as we drive past spacious fields and rundown barns.

I let my head lean back, studying the profile of his face.

"How's the club?" I ask.

"It's fine. I don't want to talk about work."

My muscles are relaxed and liquidy, my eyelids heavy. That's why my knees open so easily as his hand creeps higher and higher—at least, that's what I tell myself.

"What do you want to talk about?" I wonder.

"You," he says simply, knuckles grazing over my underwear. I shift my hips forward, searching out his touch, but he keeps it light.

"Me?" My mind is a little hazy right now.

"What are you going to do when we get back to the city?"

This makes the fog clear. I blink, sitting up more, my heart pounding. "What do you mean?" Is he firing me? Is this some arbitrary rule where he doesn't want to date his employee? "I'm managing the new club...aren't I?" I wait for his response with bated breath.

He shoots me a scathing look out of the corner of his eye and grips my thigh a little tighter. "Of course you are, Wren. I mean where are you going to live? Elodie doesn't want to go back to your apartment, and she can't stay on that fucking farm forever."

A breath of relief leaving me, I lean back, enjoying the lazy touch of his hand again. "I'll rent a new place." Ever since Nathaniel officially employed me, I've actually managed to accumulate some decent savings. I have plenty for a nicer apartment—still small and not in the best part of town, but more liveable than our current one. Most importantly, far away from any bad memories El might harbor.