Sinful Summer, page 1
SINFUL SUMMER
A MAYET JUSTICE BOOK
EMILIA FINN
Copyright © 2024 Emilia Finn
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below:
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ISBN: 978 1 922623 66 9 (paperback)
ISBN: 978 1 922623 67 6 (hard cover)
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Cover design (ebook and paperback): Amy Queue @ Q Design
Cover design (hardcover): Britt @ Chaotic Creatives
Cover Photography: Eric McKinney @ 6:12 Photography
Cover Models: Jon and Nadica S
Editing: Brit @ Bookish B Editing
Proofreading: Lindsi Labar
First printing edition 2024.
Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd
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CONTENTS
Also by EMILIA FINN
Looking To Connect?
Author’s Note
Prologue
Minka
Archer
Minka
Archer
Minka
Archer
Minka
Archer
Minka
Archer
Minka
Archer
Minka
Archer
Minka
Archer
Acknowledgments
Also by EMILIA FINN
ALSO BY EMILIA FINN
(in reading order)
The Rollin On Series
Finding Home
Finding Victory
Finding Forever
Finding Peace
Finding Redemption
Finding Hope
The Survivor Series
Because of You
Surviving You
Without You
Rewriting You
Always You
Take A Chance On Me
The Checkmate Series
Pawns In The Bishop’s Game
Till The Sun Dies
Castling The Rook
Playing For Keeps
Rise Of The King
Sacrifice The Knight
Winner Takes All
Checkmate
Stacked Deck - Rollin On Next Gen
Wildcard
Reshuffle
Game of Hearts
Full House
No Limits
Bluff
Seven Card Stud
Crazy Eights
Eleusis
Dynamite
Busted
Gilded Knights (Rosa Brothers)
Redeeming The Rose
Chasing Fire
Animal Instincts
Pure Chemistry
Battle Scars
Safe Haven
Inamorata
The Fiera Princess
The Fiera Ruins
The Fiera Reign
Mayet Justice
Sinful Justice
Sinful Deed
Sinful Truth
Sinful Desire
Sinful Deceit
Sinful Chaos
Sinful Promise
Sinful Surrender
Sinful Fantasy
Sinful Memory
Sinful Obsession
Sinful Summer
Lost Boys
MISTAKE
REGRET
Crash & Burn
JUMP
JINXED
Underbelly Enchanted
The Tallest Tower
Diamond In The Rough
Rollin On Novellas
(Do not read before finishing the Rollin On Series)
Begin Again – A Short Story
Written in the Stars – A Short Story
Full Circle – A Short Story
Worth Fighting For – A Bobby & Kit Novella
LOOKING TO CONNECT?
Website
Newsletter
The Crew
Did you know you can get a FREE book? Go to emiliafinn.com/signup to get your free copy sent direct to your inbox.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Sinful Summer is intended for an 18+ audience and contains graphic scenes that may be disturbing to some readers.
PROLOGUE
ARCHER
“Good morning, Sir. It’s so good to have you on board today.” The busty, blonde air hostess dips her chin, backing away from the door as Minka and I move up the dozen steps of a Skystream 950 private jet and wind whips around the tarmac. I hold my wife’s arm, my palm wrapped around her bicep to keep her from stumbling, but when she gets an eye-full of the hostess’ double-D’s, and the interior of the jet, she brings deep-brown eyes to me and stops, her brows sitting high on her forehead.
“Sir?”
Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
“Would you like a drink, Mr. Malone?” The hostess’ name is Jacinta. But I want it on record I do not know her. I’ve never known her. And I have no intention of getting to know her.
Despite my wife’s beady stare.
“Mr. Malone?” Minka, sweet as pie, allows a slow, seductive grin to slide across her lips. Which, to most normal people, might imply friendliness. Kindness. But as her husband, I’m brutally aware it means her mind is sprinting a million miles a second and I’m about to get into trouble. “You seem… acquainted.”
“You seem insane.” I bring my focus back to Jacinta and give her a small smile. “We’d both like a glass of champagne, please. And water.”
“Of course.” She performs a small curtsy and spins away, professional in the way she conducts herself, though chances are, she’s flown with Felix in the past. She’s known him, and she’s made sure his flights were always comfortable.
But that’s my brother. The world’s biggest slut. Or well, one of them.
That’s not me… anymore.
“This is, uh…” Minka stretches her neck to study the interior of the Skystream. The rounded windows and the rows of chairs, empty but for the luxurious cushions left for us to use. The plane has a galley kitchen to the left of the doorway, seating areas to the right—with individual chairs to conduct business from, and a three-seater lounge to recline in. Toward the rear of the jet is a private suite with a king-size bed, shower, toilet, flat-screen television, and all the amenities someone who has seventy-million dollars to spend might want.
The bed is entirely too enticing. A place to take my bride for a few hours as we set off from Copeland City and head across the country toward our honeymoon destination. But that feeling of desire quickly dissipates when I think of Felix fucking every hostess he’s ever met, and the body fluids one might find under a black light back there.
“Expensive.” Finally, Minka glances back my way, her chocolate eyes, always so confident, are now doe-like. She’s in unfamiliar territory. So she looks to me for comfort. For assurance. “This is not like that other plane we used.”
She’s right.
The other plane cost one-thirtieth of what this one did. But I’m not a man to discuss finances unless I absolutely have to. And my brother’s expenditures are not for me to explore even in the best of times.
“This one is newer, I guess.” I slide my hand down her arm and twine our fingers together. “Let’s just enjoy it.”
“Is this Cordoza’s jet?” She follows me, her steps hesitant, as I bring us through to the seating area and away from the galley. Jacinta pops a bottle of champagne, but I ignore her and work hard to keep Minka calm.
To keep her mind focused where I want it and not on other, undesirable discussions.
“Archer?”
“Hmm?” I set a small bag filled with Minka’s medication on an empty chair as we pass and lead her sometimes too-thin frame through the too-expensive jet until we reach the set of chairs nearest the back. Two individual recliners on each side of a table separating them in the middle. A large window sits between it all, and in front of that, a minibar built into the wall of the plane.
With a push of a button, panels would move to the side, glasses rise from the nether with alcohol right beside that, and ice cubes the size of baby’s fists to keep it all cold.
Though of course, I don’t touch any buttons. Instead, I draw my wife closer and press a kiss to the side of her neck. “Sit down, Mayet. Get comfortable. Our flight will take about five hours.”
“Five?” Successfully distracted, she searches my eyes. “East Coast?”
“A quick stop in Biscayne Bay,” I clarify. “We’ll be there for less than an hour. Then we’re moving on.”
“Oh?” Her long brown hair sits just below her shoulders, the ends tickling her skin since she wears only a spaghetti-strap top to combat the oppressive summer we’re currently in the throes of.
I’d like to say
But it’ll be worth it. I swear, I’ll make it worth it.
Because this is our one and only chance to go on a honeymoon. A trip I had to negotiate after nearly half a year of marriage and a bet gone wrong, purely to force the workaholic Minka Mayet to take a breath and walk away from the office for seven consecutive days.
She’s the chief medical examiner. And I’m a homicide detective.
These opportunities will be few and far between for us, and there’s no chance in hell I’m gonna risk screwing it up.
“What’s in Biscayne Bay?” Smiling—the real kind of smile now, and not the ‘I’m going to hurt you’ kind—she allows me to help her into her chair. “And where is Biscayne Bay?”
“Florida.” I slide my hand up and cup her angular jaw in my palm, then bending forward, I press a kiss to her cheek and inhale her sweet scent to combat the artificial plane air already clogging my nose. “I told you, we’re heading for the ocean. Coconut bras are a must.” Pulling back, I wink and retreat until I can drop into my chair on the opposite side. “I want to see you wearing damn near nothing, Chief. For seven whole days.”
“Ever heard of melanoma?” She rolls her eyes, but it’s playful at worst. Flirting. “Sunbathing is terrible for your skin.”
“Ever heard of sunscreen?” I look up at the sound of heels moving on the carpeted floor and wait as Jacinta approaches with two flutes of bubbling champagne. The woman is around my age. Late twenties, probably, early thirties at the most. She’s blonde and thin but with wide hips and a chest that is surely not the one she was born with.
Which is cool and all.
What a woman chooses to do with her body is no concern of mine… unless she’s my wife.
Then I can find myself concerned as hell.
“Thank you, Jacinta.” I take Minka’s glass and set it down in front of my staring wife, then accepting mine, I turn from the hostess and focus only on the woman who sits across from me. “You need to stop giving other women the stink eye.”
“I wasn’t.” Scowling, she picks up her glass and studies the contents. “She’s pretty.”
“Is she?” I set my elbows on the table, but extend my hand and wait for her to tap her champagne against mine. “I only see you, Mayet. Especially when I’m on my fuckin’ honeymoon.”
“I didn’t actually say anything unkind.” Smirking, she taps my glass and brings it up to her nose. “I was only making an observation.”
“And your observations tend to get me in trouble. Do you need anything before we take off?”
“No.” Sitting back at ease, she sips her beverage and grins from behind the crystal lip. “I’m going on my honeymoon. I think I’m about set.”
“You’re excited, huh?” Giving up on sitting all alone on my side of the table, I shove up with quick movements, surprising Minka as I swing around and plop down in the chair beside hers. Our shoulders touch, and her hair rests against the sleeve of my shirt. Already, her perfect scent beats out the air being pumped through the jet’s systems.
Best of all, though, her hand comes down to settle in my lap. Her wedding band, not typically something either of us wear on our fingers, wraps around her digit today.
For this week only, we forgo the chains that typically hang around our necks, and instead, we follow tradition.
A wedding band circling that one, very special finger. An eternity. A symbol of love.
Because fuck me, I’m a man in love.
“When was the last time you didn’t work?” I set my glass down, while Jacinta goes about her duties, folding in the stairs and closing the jet’s door to prepare us for flight. While the pilot runs through his checks, and the copilot makes sure his colleague does it right.
I focus on Minka. On her delicate collarbones, on full display in her scant top. Her long hair, left down today, when often, she wears it in a ponytail for work. I study her glittering eyes and notice the bags she usually carries beneath are less severe after a full night’s rest.
Vacation suits her.
Time away from dead bodies and responsibilities suits her.
“And what are the chances of us extending this into a two-week thing?”
Immediately, she scoffs, her chest bouncing with quiet laughter. “You get seven days. Total.” Turning in her chair, she leaves her hand in my lap but nudges her legs up until her thigh rests over top of mine. “Aubree’s going to lose her shit if we’re gone for longer than a week. The cat will probably die. Fletch will land a case that you’ll want to run anyway. Because let’s not sit here and pretend I’m the only workaholic inside this million-dollar plane.”
Seventy-million. But shit, who am I to split hairs?
“Vacation sounds good and fun, Archer. Even for people like us. But that’s because days one and two will be a pleasant break. Day three you’ll be bugging out of your skin to get back on duty.”
“You think so?” I pick up my champagne again, but only because the jet’s engines roar to life and the entire frame of the plane begins a constant, heavy vibration. “You think I couldn’t go a week without work?” I press a gentle kiss to her lips, tasting the champagne she’s yet to lick away. “Really? I could go a year if it meant I could keep you locked away and naked.”
“Oh please.” She brings her glass up and swallows a delicious sip that has her humming to the same rhythm as the plane. “Sex is fun. Sex is great,” she adds with a breathy sigh. “But we need our minds stimulated as well. Two days of fucking, and even you’ll be ready to venture into the outside world.”
“Yeah?” Ducking closer as the plane begins moving, I take the soft skin of her neck between my lips and taste her. Savor her. “We could make a bet.”
“Again?” She tilts her head back to give me room to work. “We’re here because of a bet.”
“That you lost.” I nip at her warm flesh and groan when she jumps. Her breath catches, and her heart pounds too quickly. Too wildly against my cheek. “It’s okay to admit intimidation, Doctor Mayet. You made a bet. You lost. To do so a second time would be daunting.”
“You’re a very obvious man, Archer.” And yet, she lifts her hand from my lap and cups the back of my head instead. To keep me close. To refuse me the chance to stop touching. “You attempt to use my competitive streak against me.”
“Why not use the tools at my disposal?” I slide my fingers over the front of her chest. Tracing the lines of her collarbone. Pausing at the dip between. “You’re a proud woman, and I’m not unwilling to exploit another’s weaknesses. Even yours.”
She chokes out a laugh that breaks us both. I was going for serious. Hard. Taunting. But now she has me smiling like the lovesick idiot I am. “You want to make a bet and pretend it’s for my own good? When we both know you well enough to acknowledge you just want me naked and barefoot for your own pleasure.”
“I’ve never hidden my desires.” I take her glass, so I’m holding both stems in one hand, then I capture her lips with mine as the jet speeds up. We’re on the runway, and in about five seconds flat, my stomach is going to drop out the bottom of my ass and leave me feeling queasy.
But strong, intimidating men don’t admit that kind of stuff.
Malones sure as fuck don’t admit that stuff.
“Give me two weeks of uninterrupted time with you, Mayet. No clothes preferred. And I’ll show you how stimulated you can be without having to activate your brain at all.”
“No dice.” Sniggering, she lifts her legs higher and rests them on my thighs. We’re no longer sitting side-by-side. But rather, we’re wrapped up in each other. Tangled together and heading toward the best damn vacation she’ll ever know. “But if you think you can’t not work unless there’s a bet on the line…”
“I don’t even like my job,” I taunt. “I could go a year without calling the precinct and not break a sweat.”
“Liar.” She pulls back, but only so far that she can set her cheek on my shoulder and look up into my eyes. “Bet you twenty-four naked hours you can’t go the rest of today without calling Fletch.”
“Twenty-four naked hours with you, or a phone call with Detective Fletcher?” My laughter comes with an edge of desperation as the plane’s wheels leave the ground and the engines roar with power. I fight against my every instinct to close my eyes. To swallow the nerves in my throat. I silently wish for the damn plane to level out, so I can set these glasses down, and use my newly freed hand to cup my wife’s ass instead.
