Sinful Rewards 4: A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

By Cynthia Sax

Four years ago, Bee Carter left her tiny hometown, escaping her tormenters. She concealed her tarnished reputation under a good-girl persona, hiding her history from Nicolas, her strong and silent billionaire; Hawke, her tattooed bad-boy biker; and Cyndi, her man-crazy best friend.

Today, she's returning home … and she's not alone. Some of her deepest, darkest secrets will be revealed. Trust will be tested. Clothing and inhibitions will be discarded. Bee and her hometown will never be the same.

When her past and her present collide, will any of Bee's relationships survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Release date: Oct 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9780062354174

Cynthia Sax

Cynthia Sax lives in a world filled with magic and romance. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they adore. They live passionately. They play hard. They love the same women forever. Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.

Book preview

Chapter One

TODAY, I REVISIT my past.

I scoop the envelope off the hardwood floor as I dash toward the door, my backpack slung over one shoulder. The bus to Happydale, my tiny hometown, doesn’t wait for anyone. The door closes behind me, the electronic lock buzzing. I have to hustle.

My sneakers make no sound on the thick red hallway carpet. Gold light fixtures illuminate the beige walls, and the scent of vanilla hangs in the air.

The common area is luxurious yet empty. I’ve seen the neighbors once or twice during the four months I’ve lived here. They must have multiple homes, a concept I don’t understand. Home should be one permanent place, a refuge from an ever-changing world.

I press the elevator button and the doors open as though the elevator has been waiting for me. This small space is vacant also. I’ve never seen Lona on the weekends, and today, I miss her. When did the high-class escort become part of my daily routine?

I step inside the car and punch the button for the lobby. The doors close, my pale face reflecting in the mirrored walls. Fine paper slides over my skin as I rotate the envelope in my hands. It was delivered this morning, the sender unknown. I watch the red digital numbers change, wishing Lona was here to talk with, wishing Cyndi, my roommate, had returned home last night.

Wishing Hawke, my tattooed biker, hadn’t left.

This is a foolish wish. I knew he would leave. We had our one night of passion. He’s not a forever type of man. He’d touched me, tasted me, seen all of me, and there’s no reason for him to stay.

It’s better this way. If I repeat this statement a million times, I might believe it.

I fan myself with the envelope, and the scent of expensive perfume wafts upward. I recognize the distinctive fragrance.

Lona has sent me a message. Why would the escort contact me? I open the envelope. Black script flows across ivory card stock. The paper is exquisite, as classy as she is.

Please see me today. I have a proposal for you.

Lona

501 South

I know what she’ll propose. Lona is searching for a protégée, someone to take care of her high-net-worth clients. She has expressed an interest in me, sharing that I remind her of herself. I flutter the paper against my lips. She recognizes a fellow pervert.

Logically, I should consider her offer. I no longer have a job and need money desperately. If I don’t find temporary work soon, my mom will be evicted from her apartment. I can’t allow that to happen.

But my heart and my soul aren’t ready to explore this option. Becoming an escort would permanently scuttle my dreams of a forever love.

That forever love won’t be Hawke. He’s gone. I stifle a sigh, pain coiling low in my body. Nicolas, my handsome billionaire, remains. He’d never trust an escort. He doesn’t trust actresses, calling them professional liars.

He might tolerate my exhibitionism. He won’t tolerate another man touching me. As Cyndi pointed out, he’s possessive. I brush my fingers over my lips. He can’t ever know about Hawke. Last night will be another one of my secrets.

The elevator doors open and I stride into the lobby, my sneakers squeaking on the marble floor. Jacob, the security guard, sits behind the desk, his arms folded in front of him, his round belly straining the confines of his gray uniform.

Morning, Jacob. I wave Lona’s card, her perfume scenting the cool air. If you see our mutual friend, please tell her I’m spending the day with my mom and I’ll drop by her condo this evening. I have to, at the very least, listen to my new friend’s spiel.

I sure will, Miss Bee. Jacob nods, his expression drowsy, his eyelids already lowering. He’ll be napping in his chair by ten o’clock. Have a nice day.

Thank you. I push through the front doors and stop, my breath catching. It can’t be. I stare, unable to believe my eyes. It is.

Hawke waits outside the building. Sunglasses are clipped to the collar of his black T-shirt. He’s wearing his usual blue jeans and military-style boots and straddles his huge bike. A blue helmet is perched on the sliver of a seat behind him. His head is bare, his brown hair styled short and straight, an adorable lopsided smile on his rugged face.

All thoughts of Happydale, of the bus, of anything other than Hawke disappear. My body hums to life, his mere presence resuscitating my desire, tightening my nipples, moistening my pussy. I want to run to him, to throw myself into his arms, to kiss the tiny scar on his square chin, brush my fingertips against his stubble.

Instead, I stand, frozen in place, my mind spinning. You’re here. My voice lilts with wonder. You didn’t leave me.

Hawke’s smile fades. I’m not leaving you, love.

This lie returns me to the cold, harsh reality. Nothing has changed. He remains a tattooed biker, a drifter unable to commit, and I’m a woman seeking forever.

You told me you wouldn’t leave me last night. I twist my lips, calling him on his bullshit. Then I woke up and you were gone.

Hawke’s thick eyebrows lower. I had to run some errands this morning, but I’ll always return to you. You’re my girl.

You’ll always return to me? I scoff, unable to believe in him, the cost of being wrong too painfully high.

Always, he repeats, his tone grave, as though he means what he says.

He’s not sincere. I release a ragged breath. This is another one of his flippant comments, such as calling me love or his girl. My military man doesn’t even know what forever means.

Hawke sighs, his big chest rising and falling. You don’t believe me.

Of course I don’t believe you. I roll my eyes. People need a reason to return.

His forehead furrows with thought lines. You’re my reason.

I can’t be the reason. I’m not enough for him, for anyone. Especially since he’s seen only the perverted, imperfect version of me. He’s heard me cuss, seen me stained with black ink, my nose and cheeks reddened from crying, watched me dance half-naked in the window. That’s not a woman worthy of returning for.

So why did Hawke return? I tap my lips with my right index finger, pondering the possibilities. He should have been long gone by now.

Unless he wasn’t satisfied with the things we did.

What did we do?

I shouldn’t ask. I know I shouldn’t. Oh, hell. I have to ask. Last night. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, nervous, not knowing if I want to hear the answer. Did I see your junk?

Hawke’s lips twitch. You didn’t see anything, sweetheart. You fell asleep with a dazed smile on your beautiful face and my fingers deep inside you.

I warm all over, his blunt words arousing me.

I sucked your cream off my skin, savoring your taste, your scent. His eyes gleam. The damn man knows what he’s doing to me. Then I dressed you in those soft, see-through things you wear every night, tidied the place, and let myself out. That was it.

That was it, I repeat. He gave me the best orgasm of my life and I didn’t please him at all. You want to finish our evening. I nod, this explanation making sense to me. That’s the reason you returned.

Hawke frowns fiercely, his expression breathtakingly intense. That’s not the reason I returned. I returned for you.

I lift my chin, not hiding any of my disbelief, certain I know the truth. Sex was the reason he returned. He wants me and I want him, desperately. I lower my gaze to his lips, remembering how he sucked on my skin, marked my nipple with his teeth. Waves of awareness, of need swirl around us, pulling at me, stripping my control.

Silence stretches. I look upward. A tic of emotion pulses high on Hawke’s cheek, his eyes stormy and his body hard. He wants me to accept his lie, but I can’t believe in a man who has no reason to stay.

Every time we part, you’ll think I’ve left you, won’t you? he asks, his voice sinfully deep.

My fingers curl. Why would you stay? I counter. Why would anyone stay who had a choice?

Hawke grits his teeth. There’s another long pause. I brace myself for the pain that I know is coming. He’ll tell me I’m too much hassle for a one-night stand. Then he’ll ride out of the city and never return. I shouldn’t care. He’ll leave me eventually, and the

Reviews for Sinful Rewards 4

[blsfan68 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Love these books. Cynthia leaves you wondering who is the mysterious man rewarding Bee, just as Bee herself is left wondering. I can't wait for the next installment to see what will happen next.