Flirting with Sin Read Online Free

this little resort-love nest. The last thing Ari needed, or wanted, was a woman. He couldn’t even fuck this one because he couldn’t send her away the next morning. Not when her room sat across the damn hall.
    And what the hell was up with this contest anyway? Once Ari had been greeted as the Noble Pass Affaire winner and escorted to the suite he would share with the other contestant, he’d fired off a text to his manager asking What. The. Fuck? A hot phone call later, Ari possessed all the details of the contest and its romantic ramifications.
    Which begged the question of why Jack needed to enter a damn contest to get a woman in the first place. He might not be a member of the band, but he had as much pussy thrown at him as the rest of them. So what was this shit?
    A mystery Ari would solve as soon as he saw his friend in a week. Well, once he removed his hands from around Jack’s neck, Ari would have his answers.
    For now, though, the next seven days stretched ahead of him like an endless road, and he had to get through them. With…what had the Adam Sandler look-alike said her name was? Nina? Neva? No, Neveah .
    He shifted his narrowed, angry gaze from the far wall and, for the first time since entering the room, settled his attention on the woman clutching the strap of a bag as if it were all that stood between her and a nosedive over a steep cliff.
    She wore clothes.
    Huh. That was novel.
    Most women wore as little around him as possible. Little being the key word. Micro-mini skirts, barely-there tops and no bras, all with the aim of revealing as much skin as legal. Her, though—a red bubble coat concealed her from throat to mid-thigh. Dark blue jeans sheathed her legs, disappearing into knee-high brown boots. Not even stilettos. The effect was fresh, different and strangely…charming.
    Charming. Now there was a description he didn’t use too often. The females who flocked around the backstage areas, the dressing rooms and clubs didn’t care for much conversation beyond, “I love your music,” and, “Fuck me.”
    To be honest, neither did he.
    He lifted his gaze…and blinked. Once. Twice.
    Smooth, beautiful skin the color of French Vanilla hot chocolate—his favorite drink. Graceful, ebony eyebrows. Almond-shaped, liquid dark eyes. Delicate, high cheekbones. An unpainted mouth with lips celebrities paid surgeons to give them. Long, thick sable waves the perfect length for wrapping around a fist. That mouth and hair—they decimated the image of innocence her other features conveyed. Made a man hunger to corrupt her purity…or wonder if she sucked cock like an angel.
    Lust poured through his veins like thick, dark molasses. His dick thumped behind his zipper, a ready and willing volunteer to solve the mystery.
    Yeah, God definitely had it in for him. Why else would He set him up with the most fuckable, untouchable woman Ari had ever seen? Because she was definitely off-limits. Her type didn’t follow tour buses like a gypsy caravan or troll bars looking for a screw in a back room or alley. No, her kind wanted—expected—more. Commitment. Intimacy.
    Love.
    All the things he no longer believed in. The things he didn’t have in him to offer.
    Once upon a time, he’d had faith in them, had given them. And three years ago, they’d killed the woman who’d been his everything.
    The memory of Caro snuffed the greedy flames licking his skin like fingers pinching out a candle’s light.
    A drink. He needed a drink. Several of them. Enough so he stopped thinking and started drowning.
    “So, if you need anything at all, just call the front desk and we are at your service.” With a last smile and nod, the concierge exited the room, leaving him alone with temptation in the flesh.
    Silence pervaded the suite. The walls didn’t seem thick enough to contain the tension-strained heaviness of the quiet.
    “I, uh…” She slicked the tip of her tongue over her lips and he smothered a groan. “I don’t mean to pry