Page 9 of Beautiful Sin
I nearly inhaled my French toast, trying desperately not to think about exactly who I’d like to get laid with. Especially not when said person was sitting right across from me, looking unfairly gorgeous even while frowning, his amber-hazel eyes darkening at Xander’s suggestion. Heat crawled up my neck, settling in my cheeks like a permanent stain. “Excuse me?” My voice came out higher than intended, closer to a squeak than the indignant protest I’d been aiming for.
“He’s right,” Nico nodded sagely, as if he were dispensing life-changing advice rather than making me wish for a spontaneous sinkhole to open beneath my chair. “Most of us were dating and losing our V-card by sixteen or seventeen. You’re falling behind, little bro. Time to find yourself a nice girl… or whatever.” He waved his fork vaguely, encompassing the wide spectrum of possibilities with a gesture that sent egg flying across the table.
Oh God, were we really having this conversation? At breakfast? I desperately looked for an escape route, but unless I wanted to crawl under the table—tempting—or make a break for the door—even more tempting—I was trapped. The walls of our kitchen suddenly felt too close, the air too thick with embarrassment and something else, something charged and uncomfortable. Across from me, I caught Wei hiding a knowingsmirk behind his coffee mug. Bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing, stirring the pot like the chaos demon he was.
“Jaxson was already dating and sleeping with that hot cheerleader at sixteen,” Colt added, his usually precise movements faltering slightly as he glanced my way, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes. “Jane, wasn’t it? The one with the legs that went on for days.”
My head snapped up at that, an unexpected pang of something hot and uncomfortable twisting in my stomach. Sixteen? The image of a younger Jaxson with some faceless, leggy girl made my chest tight, a sensation too close to jealousy for comfort. Which was ridiculous—I had no claim on Jaxson’s past or present. He was my stepbrother, for God’s sake. My stupidly attractive, frustratingly perfect stepbrother whom I absolutely should not be imagining with anyone, least of all me.
“Can we not discuss my ancient history?” Jaxson’s voice cut through the chaos, tight with something I couldn’t identify. His eyes locked on mine across the table, dark and intense enough to make my throat go dry. There was something in his gaze that made my pulse quicken, a heat that had no place in a brotherly exchange.
“Just trying to help Lan understand it’s normal,” Xander said, his tone casual, though his eyes were intense as they flickered over me, lingering on the exposed line of my collarbone. “Maybe he just needs the right… motivation.” The way he said “motivation” made it sound like something else entirely, something that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.
Wei snorted into his coffee, the sound drawing my attention away from Xander’s unsettling gaze. “Oh, I’m sure motivation isn’t the problem.” His knowing smirk made me want to dump his coffee over his head, possibly followed by the entire pot. “His Holiness probably has plenty of interested parties.” His eyesflicked meaningfully to where Jaxson sat, then to Xander, then back to me.
“He’s fine exactly as he is,” Jaxson stated flatly, his grip on his mug turning his knuckles white. The ceramic looked dangerously close to shattering in his grasp, his forearm muscles tense beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his dress shirt.
The way he said it—like he was stating an absolute truth—made my face heat up again. Damn it. What was it about his voice that turned me into a human tomato? One sentence from him and I was back to being a blushing mess, my body betraying me at every turn. The worst part was how his defense made something warm unfurl in my chest, a dangerous hope I couldn’t afford to nurture.
I was going to murder Wei. Slowly. With his own fancy coffee beans. Right after I figured out why everyone was acting so weird this morning. The kitchen felt like a pressure cooker, tensions simmering just below the surface, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation. Even Nico seemed to sense it, his usual chatter subdued as he glanced between his brothers.
An awkward silence fell over the table, broken only by the sound of Colt’s methodical chewing and Nico attempting to build a fortress out of his remaining French toast. I focused on my plate, willing my face to return to a normal human color instead of emergency stop sign red. The eggs were actually good, Wei’s culinary skills turning even our budget groceries into something worth eating. I concentrated on the taste, the texture, anything to avoid looking up and meeting any of my brothers’ gazes.
“Speaking of work,” Xander said, looking more alert now, his posture straightening as he leaned forward slightly. “My boss asked about you again, Lan. Still interested in picking up shifts at the bar?” His expression was casual, but there was anundercurrent of something in his voice—anticipation, maybe, or something more complicated.
My heart leaped at the opportunity. Working at Xander’s bar would mean serious tips—the kind that could fatten up my savings account faster than my current jobs combined. The kind that could get me out of this apartment and away from the daily torture of living with Jaxson, of wanting something I couldn’t have. I opened my mouth to say yes, but Jaxson’s temperature drop was practically arctic, the atmosphere around him chilling so rapidly I half expected frost to form on his coffee mug.
“I wasn’t aware you were interested in working atthatbar.” Jaxson’s voice could have frozen Hell over. Twice. Each word was precise, controlled, but the tension beneath them was palpable, like a storm brewing just below the surface.
I could feel the weight of his disapproval from across the table, pressing against me like a physical force. But for once, I held my ground. Independence was my ticket out of this emotional purgatory, my chance at a normal life where I didn’t spend every day fighting inappropriate feelings for my stepbrother. “The pay is really good,” I mumbled, suddenly finding my French toast fascinating, tracing patterns in the syrup with my fork.
Xander, bless him, jumped to my defense. “He’d only work with me, Jaxson. Bob already promised to keep our shifts matched. Plus, it’s just until midnight, and you know I’d watch out for him.” His tone was reasonable, placating, though something flashed in his eyes when he glanced at me—something almost… possessive? No, that couldn’t be right. Xander was just being protective, the way all my brothers were.
“Like a hawk,” Colt added dryly. “Along with every other person in that bar, I’m sure.” His fork scraped against his plate, the sound sharp in the tense silence. “That place is a meat market on weekends.”
Wei snorted into his coffee, the sound drawing my attention. “Well, he does have that Shrine Maiden appeal. Might boost business.” He gestured toward me with his mug, his expression infuriatingly smug. “Put him in a fitted t-shirt and watch the tips roll in.”
“That’s not helping,” I hissed at him, kicking his shin under the table. He didn’t even flinch, the bastard, just grinned wider.
“Just stating facts.” Wei shrugged, clearly enjoying the show, his dark eyes dancing with unholy amusement. “Though I seem to recall a certain someone else working bars during college…” His meaningful look at Jaxson made me curious, a new piece of information I hadn’t known. The image of Jaxson behind a bar, mixing drinks with those capable hands, made my mouth go dry.
“That was different.” Jaxson’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. His expression had closed off, becoming the stern big brother face I both resented and secretly found ridiculously attractive.
“How?” I challenged, feeling braver than usual. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe I was just tired of being treated like spun glass, like some delicate object that needed to be wrapped in cotton wool and kept on a high shelf. “You did it. Xander does it. Why can’t I?” The words came out sharper than intended, years of frustration bubbling to the surface.
The look Jaxson gave me could have melted steel. Those amber-hazel eyes burned with an intensity that made my breath catch, pinning me in place more effectively than any physical restraint. “We’ll discuss this later.” The words were final, his tone making it clear the conversation was over.
Which was how I found myself practically bolting from the table fifteen minutes later, muttering a hasty, “I’m heading out.”
“See you later,” came the chorus of replies, followed by Wei’s too-amused, “Don’t forget your knight in shining armor is driving you, Lan’er!”
His emphasis on the diminutive made my eye twitch. In our language, adding that little ‘-er’ was supposed to be an endearment, a way to turn a name into something soft, tiny, and precious. It was a verbal reminder that I wasn’t just Lan; I was their “Little Lan,” a delicate thing to be tucked away and guarded. I could hear the grin in his voice without even looking.
The morning air hit my face like a blessing, cooling my heated cheeks as I made my escape. The apartment building’s concrete steps were cracked and worn, but I took them two at a time, desperate for space and oxygen that wasn’t saturated with tension and Jaxson’s scent. Of course, said escape involved being trapped in a car with Jaxson, which was like jumping from the frying pan into a very attractive fire. Still, anything was better than enduring more of Wei’s knowing looks and Xander’s lingering glances.
I slid into the passenger seat of Jaxson’s sensible sedan, immediately fascinated by the dashboard like it was displaying secret government codes instead of just the time. The car dipped slightly as Jaxson got in, his presence filling the small space like a physical thing, making the air feel thick and charged. Why did he have to smell so good? It should be illegal to smell that good before nine in the morning—a mixture of expensive cologne, coffee, and something uniquely him that made my head spin.
The engine purred to life, and we pulled away from the apartment. The drive was quiet, the usual morning traffic giving me an excuse not to make conversation. I stared out the window, watching the city slide by in a blur of concrete and glass, focusing on the pedestrians and storefronts rather than the man beside me. The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable exactly, but heavy with things unsaid.
