Read Online Sinner: Devil's Sons MC by Kathryn Thomas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathryn Thomas
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haste, the wheel squealed and slid forward, causing her to yelp in surprise. Sam chuckled and reached around her to steer, easily bringing the vehicle to a stop.
"Wasn't bad, was it?" he asked.
"Did you see me? I drove this thing! I'm bad ass!"
"Ha!"
Afia covered her mouth at swearing. Sam helped her off the bike, and she easily took his hand. "I loved it," she admitted. "I see why you like it. What do you do with your bike club?"
He wrinkled his nose and avoided giving a straightforward answer. "The usual shit. Ride bikes. Get more tattoos. You know what I want to know about, though? This guy I need to be jealous of." He made the statement in a casual tone of voice, but his thumb caressed her palm as he spoke, and he looked Afia intently in the eyes. Sam wasn't the jealous sort. He abhorred men like that. But, in this case, he damned sure wouldn't be happy if she was seeing somebody else.
"How best to explain? My mother and father expect a traditional Muslim marriage. Appearances have to be kept up."
"Appearances, huh...you're not really interested in this guy, are you?" He heard himself, and Sam bit his inner cheek to keep from sounding like a jackass. "What am I saying? You're an adult. I'm sorry. That was completely out of line of me."
Afia hiccupped in laughter, squeezing his hand. "For the record, I would rather kiss a slimy toad than marry Jabar. You have to understand...I'm only seeing him to keep them happy...so I can have the space and freedom to sneak around with you. What a misleading word...sneak. Here we are in the open for the world and Allah to see. If this is wrong of us—well, I just don't see how it can be wrong."
She thought about the conversation the next day while she dozed and whiled away her free day from work, school, and worship. The evening before, Sam had driven her home and hadn't tried anything improper. In many ways, he was the model suitor. He had an excellent career. He adhered to her boundaries. The only problem was he wasn't the sort of man her parents would choose for her. As she turned over in bed and drifted back to sleep, she couldn't help but think that wasn't a good enough reason not to be with him.
Around noon, Bionca slipped into her bedroom and sprawled out on the bed next to Afia. They jointly gazed at the ceiling, each in thought, with Bionca's slender fingers loosely gripping Afia's. Her rainbow tipped dreadlocks fanned out around her pale face next to Afia's dark brown waves. Her multihued tattoos stood out in stark contrast against her milky arm, her milky arm next to Afia's dusky skin in contrast, too. They were very different women from very different backgrounds, but they were best friends. So, Afia puzzled, what was so wrong about her fledgling relationship with Sam? Wasn't it similar?
"You like him a lot, don't you?" Bionca seemed to read her mind. Afia turned her head away. Bionca wasn't in the mood to tell her the usual, to tell her she needed to make her own choices in life. She held silent and simply made her presence felt. Whatever Afia decided, her friend would be there for her.
***
Afia sat in her parents' living room. Her feet were up on the lip of the chair, face rested on her knees. She secretly had been seeing Sam for almost a month, and the weekly visits home were beginning to feel more and more like a burden. She closed her eyes and pictured speeding around winding curves with her arms wrapped around him. She squeezed her legs together, imagining she was gripping his firm, muscular thighs with hers. A smile flitted across her face. The sunlight slanted through the blinds and gave her a dreamy, sepia-toned appearance.
Rayan paused at the threshold to the living room, studying his little sister intently. She sighed lushly, heavy-lidded eyes sweeping open slowly, and her golden irises stilled when she caught him staring. "What?" Afia frowned at being scrutinized.
Rayan took a seat on the
"Wasn't bad, was it?" he asked.
"Did you see me? I drove this thing! I'm bad ass!"
"Ha!"
Afia covered her mouth at swearing. Sam helped her off the bike, and she easily took his hand. "I loved it," she admitted. "I see why you like it. What do you do with your bike club?"
He wrinkled his nose and avoided giving a straightforward answer. "The usual shit. Ride bikes. Get more tattoos. You know what I want to know about, though? This guy I need to be jealous of." He made the statement in a casual tone of voice, but his thumb caressed her palm as he spoke, and he looked Afia intently in the eyes. Sam wasn't the jealous sort. He abhorred men like that. But, in this case, he damned sure wouldn't be happy if she was seeing somebody else.
"How best to explain? My mother and father expect a traditional Muslim marriage. Appearances have to be kept up."
"Appearances, huh...you're not really interested in this guy, are you?" He heard himself, and Sam bit his inner cheek to keep from sounding like a jackass. "What am I saying? You're an adult. I'm sorry. That was completely out of line of me."
Afia hiccupped in laughter, squeezing his hand. "For the record, I would rather kiss a slimy toad than marry Jabar. You have to understand...I'm only seeing him to keep them happy...so I can have the space and freedom to sneak around with you. What a misleading word...sneak. Here we are in the open for the world and Allah to see. If this is wrong of us—well, I just don't see how it can be wrong."
She thought about the conversation the next day while she dozed and whiled away her free day from work, school, and worship. The evening before, Sam had driven her home and hadn't tried anything improper. In many ways, he was the model suitor. He had an excellent career. He adhered to her boundaries. The only problem was he wasn't the sort of man her parents would choose for her. As she turned over in bed and drifted back to sleep, she couldn't help but think that wasn't a good enough reason not to be with him.
Around noon, Bionca slipped into her bedroom and sprawled out on the bed next to Afia. They jointly gazed at the ceiling, each in thought, with Bionca's slender fingers loosely gripping Afia's. Her rainbow tipped dreadlocks fanned out around her pale face next to Afia's dark brown waves. Her multihued tattoos stood out in stark contrast against her milky arm, her milky arm next to Afia's dusky skin in contrast, too. They were very different women from very different backgrounds, but they were best friends. So, Afia puzzled, what was so wrong about her fledgling relationship with Sam? Wasn't it similar?
"You like him a lot, don't you?" Bionca seemed to read her mind. Afia turned her head away. Bionca wasn't in the mood to tell her the usual, to tell her she needed to make her own choices in life. She held silent and simply made her presence felt. Whatever Afia decided, her friend would be there for her.
***
Afia sat in her parents' living room. Her feet were up on the lip of the chair, face rested on her knees. She secretly had been seeing Sam for almost a month, and the weekly visits home were beginning to feel more and more like a burden. She closed her eyes and pictured speeding around winding curves with her arms wrapped around him. She squeezed her legs together, imagining she was gripping his firm, muscular thighs with hers. A smile flitted across her face. The sunlight slanted through the blinds and gave her a dreamy, sepia-toned appearance.
Rayan paused at the threshold to the living room, studying his little sister intently. She sighed lushly, heavy-lidded eyes sweeping open slowly, and her golden irises stilled when she caught him staring. "What?" Afia frowned at being scrutinized.
Rayan took a seat on the
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