Page 22 of Beautiful Sin
The reaction was… interesting. Jaxson choked on his drink like he’d forgotten how swallowing worked. Colt’s casual lean against the counter suddenly turned rigid, his eyes darkening as they traced the water droplets running down my chest with an intensity that made me acutely aware of my near-nakedness. Wei’s grin turned positively feline—the kind that said he was about to have way too much fun at my expense. Great. Just what I needed to cap off this stellar evening.
“Forget something?” Wei drawled, his eyes dancing between me and Jaxson’s frozen form. “Like, oh, I don’t know… clothes? Or perhaps the concept of towel-drying? You’re creating a small lake on our kitchen floor.”
Ignoring their weird behavior—because dealing with my brothers’ oddities required more energy than I currently possessed—I made my way to the fridge. I grabbed the water jug and poured myself a glass, drinking like I’d just crossed that desert I’d been thinking about earlier. I could feel three pairs of eyes tracking my every movement, which was about as comfortable as performing surgery on myself.
Colt cleared his throat, his voice rougher than usual. “You’ll catch a cold.” But his concerned words didn’t match the intensity of his stare, which felt like it could burn holes through my towel. Why was everyone being so weird tonight?
I was about to make my escape when Jaxson materialized in front of me like some sort of incredibly attractive roadblock.Shit!
My sleepiness evaporated faster than spilled coffee on a hot sidewalk. I avoided looking at his face because, seriously universe? Him with his shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, and hair doing that effortlessly messy thing? That should be illegal. There should be laws against looking that good at—I glanced at the clock—one in the morning. Criminal. Absolutely criminal.
He stroked my wet hair, his fingers gently pushing it back from my face, and I briefly forgot how to breathe. Or think. Or exist as anything other than a bundle of nerve endings that all led directly to my racing heart.
“Dry your body and hair properly before going to sleep,” he murmured, his voice low enough that it felt like it was just for me, despite our audience. “You’ll get sick otherwise.”
From the corner, I heard Wei’s barely suppressed snicker and Colt’s sharp intake of breath. Great. Just what I needed. An audience for my humiliation.
My eyes betrayed me by dropping to his exposed chest.Bad eyes. Very bad eyes.But damn, those muscles were like a Renaissance sculpture come to life, and I just wanted to—No. Stop. Bad Lan. Do not think about licking your stepbrother’s chest.
I licked my suddenly dry lips, noticing how Jaxson’s eyes tracked the movement. “Yeah, I know,” I managed, looking anywhere else. When did the kitchen get so hot? Did someone break the AC? Or was I just spontaneously combusting from the inside out?
I set my glass down and turned to flee—I mean, exit strategically. “Good night,” I called to my brothers, trying notto sound like I was running away—which I totally was, at approximately the speed of light.
“Good night,” Jaxson said softly, while Colt’s “Night” came out more like a growl. What was his problem? Did someone replace his protein powder with sand?
But Wei, because he lived to torment me, called out, “Make sure to dress properly when you sleep, Shrine Maiden! Though I’m suresomepeople wouldn’t mind if you didn’t.” His meaningful glance between Jaxson and Colt could have lit up Times Square during a power outage.
“I know!” I shot back, already plotting how to replace his coffee with decaf tomorrow morning. Or maybe laxatives. Extreme times called for extreme measures.
As I made my room, I contemplated my life choices. Specifically, how I’d ended up hopelessly in love with my stepbrother while living in a house full of other stepbrothers who were being increasingly weird.
I shouldreallymove out. Like I planned to. Find a nice cardboard box somewhere. Adopt some pigeons. Start a new life as a hermit with no inappropriate feelings for family members.
Except… the thought of leaving—of not seeing Jaxson every day—sent a physical pain through my chest that made me gasp. It felt wrong on a level I couldn’t explain, like contemplating cutting off a limb.
Seven
SINCLAIR BROTHERS
Jaxson stood frozen, watching the empty doorway where Lan had disappeared, his throat constricting as if someone had wrapped a hand around it. The lingering scent of honey, cherry blossoms, and lilies wrapped around him like invisible chains, simultaneously comforting and tormenting. The scent had grown stronger over the years, evolving from a subtle hint to something that seemed to call to him on a molecular level.
His fingers tingled with the phantom sensation of Lan’s damp hair, the memory of that soft skin beneath his touch sending electricity racing through his system. His pupils had dilated the moment Lan walked in, a physiological response he couldn’t control—as involuntary as breathing. Three years since The Bathroom Incident, and Lan had transformed from the awkward teenager Jaxson had tried so desperately not to notice into a young man who commanded attention without even trying. The subtle changes—the slight broadening of shoulders, the more defined muscles, the graceful confidence in his movements—were branded into Jaxson’s consciousness with painful clarity.
That damned towel, barely clinging to narrow hips, water droplets tracing paths down pale skin that glowed in thekitchen’s dim light. Jaxson’s fingers had itched with the need to follow those droplets, to map that territory with his hands, his mouth. To claim what felt rightfully his. The possessive thought should have horrified him. Instead, it settled in his chest like a living thing, burning and demanding, ancient and undeniable.
“Missing something?” Colt’s voice cut through his thoughts like a serrated knife. “Or should I say… someone?”
Jaxson turned slowly, forcing his features into casual indifference while his insides burned. He could feel the heat radiating from his core outward—another symptom he’d been experiencing with increasing frequency whenever Lan was near. “Don’t you have some spreadsheets to terrorize?”
“And miss this quality entertainment?” Wei’s grin was positively wicked as he leaned against the counter, coffee mug cradled between his palms. “Our Shrine Maiden does have a talent for causing chaos, doesn’t he?”
The words “Shrine Maiden” seemed to resonate inside him, triggering memories that weren’t quite memories—more like impressions of another time, another place. It sent an electric current down Jaxson’s spine, a jolt of recognition that went deeper than conscious thought. There was something about it that felt… right, in a way he couldn’t articulate. As if it belonged to Lan in some fundamental way that transcended their modern lives.
“You two are enjoying this far too much,” Jaxson muttered, trying to ignore the way his body still hummed with awareness from that brief contact with Lan. How could such an innocent touch leave him feeling like he’d been struck by lightning? His skin felt too tight, his senses painfully heightened—the kitchen lights too bright, Wei’s knowing smirk too clear, Colt’s territorial posture too obvious.
Colt lounged back, though his white-knuckled grip on his mug betrayed his casual posture. The aggressive energy rollingoff him was almost visible, a challenge that Jaxson’s body responded to instinctively. “The brat needs to learn some self-preservation. Walking around half-naked like that…” His words carried an edge that raised Jaxson’s hackles, a territorial note that felt like a direct challenge.
Something primal and powerful surged through Jaxson’s veins—the urge to establish dominance, to remind Colt of the hierarchy. The thought came unbidden, strange yet familiar, like a phrase from a half-forgotten language.
