All Chapters of Tempted By The Sweetest Sin: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

Sabrina's POVBy five in the evening, my eyes were burning from staring at the computer screen all day. I finally shut it down, stretched my stiff arms, and started packing up. Just as I slung my bag over my shoulder, my boss called out, “Hey, we’re heading to the bar. You coming?”I forced a smile and shook my head. “Can’t. I’ve got something to take care of at home.”It wasn’t a lie—just not the whole truth. “Something to take care of” meant rushing across town to flip burgers at my second job before the dinner rush.Accounting was my main job, but it barely paid enough to keep my student loan collectors off my back. So, I worked nights at a fast-food place. Seven more months—that’s all I kept telling myself. Seven months and I’d finally be free.The smell of fries hit me the moment I walked in. I tied my apron, plastered on a smile, and tried to push through the exhaustion. For a few hours, everything went fine—until someone shouted.“Hey, you!”I turned, expecting a customer aski

Since that night at the bar, I hadn’t seen Eric again. Thank God.Frank had been too busy showing off about how he finally got Tina’s number. He disappeared for days after that, not calling, not texting. Which was fine with me. I didn’t want to talk about him, or about that night, or about the way Eric’s voice still lingered in my head every time I tried to sleep.I told myself it didn’t matter. That none of it did.But I was lying.The truth was—I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him. About the way he’d looked at me like he could see straight through me. About the way his voice wrapped around me, sharp and smooth all at once.And the worst part? The shame. Because some stupid part of me had felt something that night at the bar. Not love. Not even affection. Just…heat. Dangerous, reckless heat.I wanted to forget. But every time I closed my eyes, I remembered his words—’You can try dating me instead.’I hated that my body still reacted just thinking about it.So when Frank texte

The bell above the shop door chimed as we walked in, and my stomach dropped. Bright lights. Glass shelves. Colorful swimsuits hanging everywhere—tiny pieces of fabric that barely counted as clothing. I froze in the doorway, the air-conditioning biting at my skin. “Eric,” I hissed, trying to pull my hand free. “You’ve completely lost it. I’m not doing this.” He didn’t even look at me. “Relax,” he said smoothly, his tone calm like this was the most normal thing in the world. “You said you didn’t bring a swimsuit. Problem solved.” “I didn’t ask for your help,” I snapped. “Didn’t have to,” he murmured. His eyes swept over the racks, assessing, calculating. “You clearly weren’t going to do it yourself.” My pulse jumped. “You don’t get to make decisions for me.” He turned then, finally meeting my eyes. That unreadable, dark gaze pinned me in place. “Someone has to,” he said softly. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. Then the clerk appeared—young, smiling, too cheerful for the k