My Sinful Valentine (Beautiful Sinner Series) by Elena M. Reyes


MY EYES FOLLOW her to the door.

I know every dip and curve—her sweetness has been branded into my DNA—and yet, everything she does captivates me as if I’m discovering her for the first time. I’m a dangerously obsessed man. An animal biding his time.

She pauses with her hand on the knob, right hip jutting out in a way that makes my fingers twitch while refusing to look my way. “Is that still your final answer, Malcolm?”


The fingers on the knob tighten, her knuckles turning white. “Then so be it.”

“Behave, sweetheart.” I’m fighting back my amusement; I want her claws, but not yet. Not until tonight. “We both know how this will end.”

“You taught me to take what I want, Dear Husband. You know where to find me.” Gorgeous brown curls, the same soft strands that just two hours ago I wrapped around my fist, sway across her lower back as Twirl exits the room. The door slams closed behind her, the force knocking down a picture of us on vacation last year in the Maldives and shattering the golden frame. It sat atop a small accent piece beside the door that’s become my liquor cabinet because my wife loved the piece so much that she bought it for me on my last birthday.

London Asher spoils me, and I worship her.

My eyes shift to the picture and I stand, opening the drawer to my right and pulling out another replacement frame. This is the third broken one in five days, and I know her patience is waning.

“You’ll pay for that later on your knees, sweetheart,” I croon, smirk on my lips. With each step across the room, my cock jerks. Swells to the point of pain, but I ignore the ache while admiring the stolen moment captured with my phone while she lay on the pristine white sand. I have a firm grip on her ass, possessively kneading the firm flesh that belongs to me, while a sweet smile graced her features. I’m going to stretch those sweet lips—fuck that sassy mouth while you slip a hand between your thighs for me.

Picking up the tattered frame, I carefully remove the old photo and slip it inside the new frame, placing it back in its rightful place. Fuck the broken glass or the way it crunches beneath the soles of my shoes. Instead, I fix the cuffs at my wrists and exit the room, heading toward the front door my wife just exited.

Inquisitive and sassy, my wife wants to know everything: especially when it comes to me. To the lives I take without remorse.

Moreover, I know her just as thoroughly. Her thought process. What makes her tick.

All the women in this family are crazy and at times volatile, but mine reacts with the need to release excess energy through the one thing she loves almost as much as me. My Twirl dances. She takes to the pole inside my private room in the mansion at Lake Forest knowing that I’ll be watching and always just a few steps behind her.

This has become our game. How we mediate disagreements, and this one has definitely brought contention into our quiet home.

Two decomposed bodies. Two males. Two missing appendages.

Because my eyes are always on her.

On each intake of breath.

On the way her lip curls when she catches me staring.

On the way she still blushes when I compliment her beauty.

On the way heads turn, and some get closer than they should.

Javier is outside by my SUV, a cocky grin on his face. “Well, she seems to be in a great mood.”

“I thought so too.”

“One day she’ll catch on, Malcolm. You like pissing her off.”

“Not denying it.”

“See you on Monday, then?” He’s taking off to whisk my cousin away for the weekend. Surprising her this time, before she turns the tables like she did their first year.

It’s a game they like to play. Gain bragging rights for the year.

This year is his. He’s determined.

But then again, Valentine’s Day does that to men.

We plan. We sweat. We spoil.

More so when it’s the first after saying I do.


“No?” he asks, brow raised. “How long?”

“I’ll call you with instructions on Tuesday.”

“Tuesday it is.” Javier tosses the keys and I catch them, slipping inside the already open driver’s side door while he jumps in his truck. He waves with two fingers and turns left at the end of my driveway, while I go right. My baby likes the scenic route, and I press play on the radio and ease a bit off the gas while my phone keeps track of her car.

I’m hard. Fucking throbbing. Replaying.