Page 25 of Beautiful Sin
He should turn around. He should definitely turn around. Instead, his knuckles met the door in a gentle knock.
“Lan?”
Because clearly, his common sense had taken a vacation along with his moral compass. At this rate, he’d be lucky if he didn’t spontaneously combust from the combination of guilt and wanting.
But God help him, he needed to see Lan one more time tonight. Needed to assure himself that Lan was still here, still close, still his in some small way. The thought of being separated from him, even by a door, sent another wave of that strange physical ache through his chest. Even if it meant adding another entry to his ever-growing list of Things He’d Have to Confess If He Ever Found a Priest Willing to Handle This Level of Dysfunction.
The things he did for love.
Love.
Well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top of this sundae of inappropriate feelings?
Except it didn’t feel inappropriate. Not really. Not deep down where it mattered. It felt like fate. Like destiny. Like something written in his very DNA.
And if Lan truly loved someone else…
Jaxson’s hand clenched into a fist against the door, his knuckles white with the effort of restraint. The pain in his chest intensified, a physical ache that made it hard to breathe. No. He wouldn’t allow it. Couldn’t allow it. The thought sent another wave of that strange, primal pain through him, making his breath catch.
He’d find a way to make Lan his. To show him they belonged together. To help him see what Jaxson already knew bone-deep—that they were meant for each other. That they had always been meant for each other.
Starting tonight.
Eight
LAN
Istumbled into my glorified closet—aka my bedroom—and face-planted onto the mattress like a drunk penguin attempting synchronized swimming. The towel around my waist was hanging on for dear life, but I couldn’t be bothered to fix it. Living in what was essentially a walk-in closet had its perks—at least I didn’t have far to fall when my legs decided to give out.
Rolling onto my back, I stared at the ceiling, watching the light cast shadows that were probably judging my life choices harder than Colt judged Nico’s cooking attempts. I should get up, dry off properly, put on actual clothes like a functioning adult. But the bed felt like a cloud, and in this heat, being naked was practically a survival strategy. Darwin would approve.
Then, because my brain hated me with the passion of a thousand burning suns, Jaxson’s face materialized in my mind. Perfect, gorgeous,totally off-limitsJaxson. The way he’d hugged me in the car, his fingers gentle against my cheek, his body warm and solid against mine. His scent—that uniquely Jaxson mixture of expensive cologne, coffee, and something else I couldn’t name that made my knees weak and my common sense take an extended vacation to parts unknown.
The memory of his arms around me in the car sent heat spiraling through my body. How he’d pulled me against his chest, how his breath had tickled my ear when he whispered to me. How for just a moment, I’d felt like I belonged there, like we were something more than what we were supposed to be. Like being held by him was somehow written in my DNA, a biological imperative I couldn’t fight.
“Jaxson,” I groaned, immediately wanting to smack myself. Great job, Lan. Moaning your stepbrother’s name in the dark like the protagonist of some questionable romance novel. Totally normal behavior. Nothing to see here.
That’s when I noticed my body had its own ideas about normal behavior. The towel was tenting in a way that would make a circus proud.
“Seriously?” I glared down at my betraying anatomy. “You had one job—don’t get excited about Jaxson. One. Job. And here you are, standing at attention like he just walked into the room.”
I was about to deal with my “situation” the old-fashioned way when three sharp knocks hit my door.
“Lan?”
Jaxson’s voice. Because of course it was. The universe had a sick sense of humor and apparently a personal vendetta against me. What’s next? Maybe Colt could walk in with a camera? Or Wei could install a loudspeaker to narrate my humiliation to the entire apartment building?
“Lan? Are you asleep? I’m coming in.”
No, no, abort mission!my brain screamed, but my voice had apparently gone on strike at the worst possible moment. The door handle turned with what felt like dramatic slow-motion horror, each click of the mechanism like a countdown to my doom.
I flopped onto my side faster than a panicked fish, presenting my back to the door. Maybe if I played dead, he’d go away.Worked for possums, right? Though they probably didn’t have to worry about hiding erections from their stepbrothers.
“Lan?” His voice was soft, a gentle caress in the darkness. “You left your clothes in the bathroom.”
I forced my breathing into the rhythm of sleep, though my heart was doing the cha-cha in my chest at approximately the speed of light. I could feel his presence, his gaze on my back, and it took everything I had not to shiver. The air in the room seemed to change the moment he entered, like the atmospheric pressure had shifted, making it harder to breathe.
“He’s asleep,” he murmured, and I almost relaxed. Almost.
