All Chapters of Sinfully Yours: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"Shot, shot, shot, shot, shot!" I throw back my third shot of burning, cheap tequila, and grunt. I can already feel the buzz of the alcohol rushing through my system, making me lightheaded and having me stumbling on the ridiculously high heels my sister is making me wear. "Easy tiger!" The culprit laughs and grabs my arm to steady me. "When did you become such a lightweight, sissy?" "Since I've been studying and working twenty-four seven!" I wipe my mouth and remember too late that I'm wearing a scandalous shade of red lipstick. Luckily, my sister is a genius when it comes to the art of make-up because the back of my hand comes back clean. "You are so beautiful." Sammy gushes at my sister, her eyes shiny behind her glasses from only one shot of tequila. Most people are enamored by my sister when they first meet her. She's beautiful with a raucous personality, making her noticeable wherever she goes. She enjoys the attention, too, soaking up everything thrown her way. "You guys ar

I'm speechless as brown eyes hold me captive. This never happens. Not to me. I'm not this girl. I'm smart and educated. I've made the Dean's list every single year, and I'm almost a microbiologist. I don't gawk at guys because I think they're cute. But there's something different about this one. I don't know if it's in the way he's looking at me without blinking or the way my body is clearly responding to him. I don't get attracted to men, or women, or anyone. Once upon a time, I thought there might be something wrong with me. But right now, I'm buzzing, electricity pumping through every vein in my body. This man has me completely mesmerized. Like the tornado she is, my sister storms towards the table, a wide-eyed Sammy close on her heels, breaking the eye contact I had with the very fine specimen. "Sissy!"She squeals, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the booth. Mister tall. dark and handsome's eyes drop to where her hand is on my arm, and I can see the displeasure flas

He knows my name. Alessandro Moretti knows my name. The Prince of the Underworld knows my name. It's been a week since he cornered me in the diner's bathroom, and he's all I can think about. I imagine seeing a black sports car on my way to school every day, but it's all in my imagination. I haven't seen his car following me again. I don't know if I should be relieved, but in reality, I'm just disappointed. I don't know what the hell I was expecting, that he would follow me every day? That he will push me into a wall and do what? Kiss me senseless? The thought alone has my blood boiling, and I want to slap the image of him out of my brain. The number of times I had to remind myself that I'm not that girl is completely laughable. You see all those giggling females I thought were complete idiots wearing short skirts and tight shirts just to impress a boy? Those girls whom I, Farrah Simpson, thought had the brain cells of a cauliflower? I completely fucking understand now. Thos

"Are you sure this is the place?" I read the address that Jerry slipped under the door for the third time, and look up at the building in front of us again. It cannot be. But this is the address that he wrote. I hand Sammy the note and she too reads the address again and then looks up at the building. We supposedly had to evacuate our building, which is not in the best part of the city and even though it was clean, was a bit run down. The building in front of us speaks of old, rich architecture that only people with trust funds can afford to stay in. Which we are clearly not. "Should we maybe go in and check?" Sammy continues, looking just as confused as I feel. "It's not like we have any other choice right now." I shrug. Jerry took our keys when we left, so we can't go back there either. We don't have a lot of stuff, our clothes are in three suitcases and we have four boxes with our books and miscellaneous stuff, all sitting on the curb where the cab dropped us off. "Okay, g

The air is charged with so much electricity inside the car, I'm surprised the thing doesn't explode with us in it. I don't even bother asking him how he knows where I stay, because I know he knows. I've seen this guy only twice before now, but it feels like I know him on a level I can't even explain to myself. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he navigates the car through city traffic, his jaw clamped shut. He looks angry for some reason. "Are you having me followed or watched?" I asked quietly. "What were you doing with that guy?" He asks instead of answering. "Oh, we went on a date and had a nice dinner." I retort back quickly. "Your mouth is going to land you in a lot of trouble one of these days." Is that the tug of a smile I see around his mouth? It seems like it, and I relax slightly. "I tutor students sometimes." "Well, it looked like he was thinking about a lot more than tutoring." I don't answer, because what do I say to that? Was Kevin inte