“There’s a type?”
“Yes. And I'm not it.”
“Why not?”
“I'm not a good girl.”
“And I’m a good guy?”
I eye Sebastián up and down. “Hardly.”
His deep throated chuckle caresses my ears like the finest velvet. “And yet, here we are. Together.”
I should leave. I know this. I don't trust Sebastián. I don't even like him.
I don't even like that he's invited me home to meet his mother. I mean, who does that?
Any involvement, beyond Reign, is a bad idea. Sebastián Cruz is a criminal.
Technically, it's all I've known. My father was a criminal. My mother is a criminal.
I am a criminal.
Unlike either of my parents, however, I am a successful criminal. No arrests. No convictions. No jail time. I have a squeaky-clean record. And I intend to keep it that way.
&
nbsp; The problem is, I can't be with a regular guy either. Too much risk. Too many questions I can't answer. Too much unknown.
Just. Sex.
That's all I allow myself.
Orgasms. Occasional physical interactions.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
I take another look at Sebastián, lust rushing through my veins. Christ. He's exactly my type. Tall, dark, and…
The damn man passed handsome miles ago. There's an elegance to Sebastián's features, a cockiness that clings to the set of his shoulders and the way he wears a suit. Like he just walked off a Milan catwalk. A fuck you confidence that has me practically drooling.
Sebastián interrupts my thoughts. “Is there someone waiting for you? Some guy warming your bed?”
I can’t hold back the bark of laughter that leaps from my throat.
He frowns. “Did I say something funny?”
“No,” I respond, sobering. “I just don’t do that in my apartment.”
“You don’t do … what?”
I lick my lips. Shut up, Finley. Don't say it. “Fuck.”
3
Sebastián
“You don't fuck in your own apartment?” I've schooled my expression into an impassive mask. Had I been talking to anyone but Finley, I would think her admission was designed for shock value. But she appears irritated, and not just with me. With herself.