Beautiful Sinner: a standalone forbidden romance (Beautiful Series)
Beautiful Sinner: Chapter 1

CLINT HAS dark curls on the top of his head and a smile that wins elections. And right now, he’s aiming those million dollar ivories directly at me. Under his glowing stare, I see a story we could tell our grandkids, set to a picturesque film reel of European settings.

We met in Amsterdam, one of fifty on a bus tour with a horde of young Americans. We had our first kiss in Paris the day before he snuck his hand up my dress in the Chunnel on our way to London. Shortly after I went down on him in a red phone booth, we decided to leave the tour that brought us here from Los Angeles. We stayed with the group on the ferry that brought us to the Emerald Isle, but then it was just Clint, me, and a group of his closest friends. A couple guys and girls with smiles as bright as his.

“We’re going rogue,” he announces as we huddle into the cramped rental car I covered with my stressed out credit card and take off across the Irish landscape in search of absolutely nothing but feeling on top of the world. It’s only been four days since we met, and already I see our wedding, magazine-worthy with a line of bridesmaids and his best friends in a lush green garden where he’ll break down in brave tears when it comes time to say his vows to me. He’ll talk about this day, our first day on our own, hands linked across the center console of this Opel Astra.

Every few moments he looks over with that twinkle in his eye, and I know that I’ve found it. I found what my sister has, and this time it’s real.

“Babe, you’re going to love this place. It’s known for the music, and not like Coachella music either, babe. Like real traditional artists, you know. The authentic shit.”

“I can’t wait.” I gleam toward him.

There’s not a hint of fear in my heart when I’m with him. I don’t care that I just forfeited my seat on the plane back to California or that I barely know him. When you know, you know. And every single thing in this past week has been practically transcendental.

I want to tell him I love him, and I know that’s insane, but it’s insane to let a moment like this pass.

One of the girls from the back leans forward to tap Clint on the arm to show him something on her phone. She has it aimed so it’s out of my view, but not intentionally. He laughs, and I look out the window so she doesn’t feel awkward for not showing me.

It’s past nine when we finally pull into a small town, and the sun has already set, leaving the area in darkness so that the only thing I make out when we drive in is a grand house with three floors and a large porch. It’s beautiful.

It’s so quiet when we get out of the car that I can hear distant waves rolling from out of the darkness. Clint waits at the front of the car for me and takes my hand so we can go in together. At the top of the porch is a sign on the wall: Ennis Beach Bed & Breakfast

It’s quiet inside but brightly lit. There are voices coming from a room in the back, and one of the girls we’re with shouts a loud “yoo-hoo” at which point the chatter in the back stops.

“Bloody hell,” a gruff voice mutters as the ominous stomping comes nearer until a tall man in all black walks into the lobby. He looks annoyed with us, and I quickly avert my eyes, hoping he doesn’t think it was me that so rudely called them up. Behind him, a young woman brushes past and rushes to the desk.

“Good evening,” she says in a sing-song chime as she takes her place behind the desk. “Welcome to Ennis Beach.”

“We’re checking in,” Clint says sweetly. “Last name, Thorn.” He sends me a wink, and there’s something about him saying my name that makes my insides flutter.

“Ah yes,” the woman answers softly as she starts typing on the computer.

The tall man is still standing in the doorway, his eyes surveying us. I make myself busy by looking around the room, noticing that the house looks very much like a regular house, with old timey pictures along the wall. If it wasn’t for the tall counter and computer and a stand with pamphlets in the entryway, you wouldn’t even know this was a hotel—or technically a bed and breakfast as the door said.

I step away from Clint for a moment to stare at the pictures, noticing one with a stone gray church in front of a grassy field. The young couple standing in front makes me feel the warmth of romance, and a smile creeps onto my face.

Feeling eyes on me, I turn toward the doorway to the dining room and notice the tall man is now watching me. His brow is curved slightly inward, creating a deep crease down the center of his forehead as he leans against the wide doorway, arms crossed.

“Americans?” he asks with his thick Irish accent.

“Yes, sir,” Clint answers proudly.

“I’ll need a credit card for the account,” the woman says with a courteous smile.

Clint pats his pockets. “My wallet’s in the car. You’re not charging it yet, are you?”

“No. We just need one on file. You pay when you check out.”

“Babe, would you mind?”

I almost get lost in the dimples in his cheeks that it takes me a moment to catch up to his question. “Oh, of course.” Quickly, I open my purse and pull out my poor, battered AmEx to pass it to the woman. Clint pulls me against his body and places a kiss against my temple. The low hum he makes when he kisses me sends electricity down my spine.

“Okay, you’re all booked for two rooms. They’re both on the second floor. Rooms 201 and 202.”

“This one is ours,” Clint says as he takes one of the keys and pulls me toward the stairs. I let out a laugh as he pinches my ass. We rush up the stairs together, leaving the rest of his friends to sleep in the second room. I couldn’t care less. This is our first real night alone in a hotel room. Right now, all I care about is him. I am living for only him.

Once we’re alone in the room, Clint is fast to kiss me. He pulls my face up to his and his mouth hungrily devours mine.

“Oh baby, I can’t get enough of you,” he moans into my neck as he pulls up my dress, his fingers yanking my underwear aside. It’s all happening so fast, I can barely breathe.

As he pushes me down into the bed, pressing himself between my legs, I want to pinch myself. I’m no idiot. I know our days won’t always be this perfect, and there will be trials in our future, but with a start this passionate, I know there is no chance that it will ever completely fizzle out. Clint and I connect on another level.

The passion between us is so intense that it doesn’t take him more than a few pumps inside of me before he’s coming, jolting between my legs. In terms of reaching an orgasm myself, I guess it would have been nice if the passion fizzled out a little…just enough to give me a chance.

He pulls back and kisses my nose. “Sorry, baby. You just do something crazy to me.”

I love that southern accent of his, so I smile and kiss him back. I’ll take care of myself in the shower later.

“Come on, beautiful. We’re going to the pub down the street.” He climbs off of me and pulls his pants up.

“Okay,” I answer with a forced smile. In truth, I’m exhausted. Today was exhilarating, but I just need time to slow down for a second.

“You’ll come with us, right?” He leans down and kisses the top of my head.

“Of course,” I answer sleepily.

The pub is lively, enough to wake me up from my sleepy haze after that quick romp with Clint in the hotel room. It’s not at all what I expected. We’ve been to clubs and bars on this trip, but this is something else. It’s a small space, full of people without feeling crowded. There is music coming from the other side of the pub, but as we squeeze through, Clint replaces us a table and tells me to sit while he gets me a drink. Sitting alone, I look around at the crowd, noticing that it literally ranges from children to elderly. The table behind us has a carseat carrier in the booth with a baby fast asleep, no matter that it’s loud as hell in here.

Leaning back, I see the music is coming from one of the tables squeezed in the corner. The musicians sit around the beer-soaked table with their instruments in their laps. Something about it makes me so happy that I’m glad I came out tonight.

A pair of bright green eyes catch my attention while I’m looking around, and I notice the man from the hotel is sitting at the bar with a pint of dark beer in his hands as he stares at me. That blank expression is still plastered on his face, and I send him an awkward smile and wave.

I don’t have the guts to just stare at him the way he’s staring at me, but as my eyes skim over him again, I realize that he’s probably in his late thirties and a lot better looking than I noticed at first. Those round cheeks and full lips probably get all the ladies for him, but he’s a little too rugged or me. His clothes look worn with a layer of dust over his black pants.

When he catches me staring again, he nods at me, and I quickly look away. Thankfully, Clint and his friends return in the next moment with the drinks, and I have to force down my dark beer.

The rest of the night turns into a blur. I blame the exhaustion and excitement from the day.

After one round, we’re up dancing with the locals.

After two rounds, the room is spinning.

After three rounds, Clint is helping me as I stumble down the cobblestone road toward the hotel. I don’t remember getting to the room or taking my clothes off because as soon as we started up the stairs, everything went black.