Page 31 of Beautiful Sin
That strange warmth in his chest hadn’t faded, either—the heat that had blossomed when he first touched Lan, when he’d watched him come apart in his arms. It lingered still, like an ember that refused to die out, connecting him to Lan even through the walls that separated them now. He could feel Lan’s presence in the apartment with unnatural clarity, could sense his heartbeat, his breathing, as if they were extensions of his own body.
Next time, he wouldn’t let Lan pull away. Next time…
“Shit!” His body was staging a mutiny, and his conscience was losing the battle. His skin felt too hot, too tight, like it could barely contain whatever was awakening inside him. “This is going to be a long night.”
Sleep proved as elusive as his self-control, his mind torn between guilt and the intoxicating memory of Lan’s scent intensifying as pleasure overtook him. That sweet fragrance of honey, cherry blossoms, and lilies had grown stronger with Lan’s arousal, wrapping around Jaxson like a physical embrace. It had made his head spin, triggering something deep and primal within him—a sense of rightness, of belonging, of coming home after a long absence. Like a key turning in a lock that had been rusted shut for centuries.
His senses seemed heightened as he lay in the darkness—he could hear Lan’s breathing through the walls, could detect the faintest traces of his scent even at this distance. He could feel the thrum of Lan’s heartbeat, somehow distinguishable from the others in the apartment. It was unsettling yet comforting, this new awareness of Lan’s physical presence, as if some invisible tether connected them across the space between their rooms.
Dawn found him looking like he’d gone ten rounds with insomnia and lost spectacularly. Dark circles decorated his eyes, and his hair looked like it was staging a rebellion against gravity. But beneath the exhaustion, a new resolve had crystallized.
Lan was his. Had always been his, even if neither of them had realized it until now. The certainty of it was bone-deep, as if this truth had been written into his soul before he’d ever drawn breath. And he would do whatever it took to make Lan see that, to forget this mysterious person he thought he loved. Jaxson would be patient. He would play the long game. He would teach Lan pleasure, show him what it meant to be truly wanted, truly cherished.
And eventually, Lan would be his completely.
He changed into his jogging gear, his movements mechanical. Physical activity—that’s what he needed. Something to exhaust his body enough that his brain would stop its endless replay of last night’s highlights.
The kitchen was silent when he stumbled in, except for the judgmental hum of the refrigerator. He downed a glass of water like it might wash away his sins and headed out.
The streets were mercifully empty, perfect for a man trying to outrun his thoughts. But of course, his mind had other plans. Every stride, every breath, every heartbeat seemed to echo Lan’s name. He ran faster, as if the devil himself—or worse, his conscience—was on his heels. His legs pumped harder than they should have been able to, his lungs burned less than expected, his body moving with a strange new power that he didn’t question—too focused on the emotional storm raging inside him.
Two hours later, he was drenched in sweat and no closer to peace of mind. His legs burned, his lungs ached, and Lan still occupied every corner of his thoughts. If anything, the physical exertion had only sharpened his hunger, his need to claim what was his. And strangely, despite the punishing pace he’d set, he felt more energized than exhausted, as if some hidden reserve of strength had opened within him.
Great plan, genius. Now you’re obsessed AND can’t even properly exhaust yourself.
Stumbling back into the apartment, Jaxson aimed for the kitchen, desperate for water and possibly a personality transplant. That’s when the universe decided to test his composure.
A door clicked open, and there was Lan, sleep-rumpled and adorable in—oh God—Jaxson’s old shirt. The navy cotton hung loose on Lan’s smaller frame, slipping off one pale shoulder andhitting mid-thigh in a way that made Jaxson’s mouth go dry. It was the shirt he’d meant to throw out months ago, too worn and soft from countless washes, but now he knew exactly where it had “disappeared” to.
The sight of Lan in his clothes hit him like a physical blow. The contrast of that dark fabric against Lan’s milky skin, the way it draped over his slender frame, revealing tantalizing glimpses of collarbone and thigh—it was simultaneously the most innocent and most erotic thing Jaxson had ever seen. His stepbrother looked delectable, beautiful in a way that made his hands itch to touch, to claim. But more than that, the sight of Lan wearing his clothes triggered something possessive—a primal satisfaction at seeing his mate marked by his scent, his belongings.
And that scent—even from across the hallway, he could detect it, far more clearly than he should have been able to. Honey, cherry blossoms, and lilies, delicate but unmistakable, calling to something deep within him. It seemed stronger today, as if last night’s intimacy had amplified the connection between them.Mine, that primal part of him growled.Mine to protect. Mine to possess.
Their eyes met across the hallway, and Jaxson watched as Lan’s face went through an impressive array of reds that would make a sunset jealous. The blush spread down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar ofJaxson’sshirt, and wasn’t that an image his brain didn’t need right now? He couldn’t help wondering how far that blush went, if it painted all that hidden skin the same delicious pink. If it looked as beautiful as it had last night, when Lan had been spread out beneath him, trembling with need.
Time seemed to freeze. Jaxson’s brain helpfully supplied,Say something normal. Anything. Just don’t mention hands. Orshirts. Or how he looks wearing your clothes. Or how much you want to see what else that blush covers.
Before he could manage even a “good morning,” Lan pulled a vanishing act that would make magicians jealous, complete with a door slam that probably woke the entire neighborhood.
“My, my,” came Colt’s voice, dripping with amusement and something sharper. “What did you do to the princess? Besides make him run away like you’re carrying the plague?”
Jaxson turned to find his brother leaning against the wall, arms crossed, wearing that insufferable smirk he’d perfected over the years. The look in Colt’s eyes was too knowing, too intense, and something territorial flared in Jaxson’s chest. A growl built in his throat—not metaphorical but real, an actual rumble of warning that he barely managed to suppress. The way Colt looked when he talked about Lan sometimes… it made Jaxson want to bare his teeth.
“Nothing,” Jaxson muttered, suddenly finding his sweat-soaked shirt fascinating.
“Right.” Colt’s tone could have cut glass. “Because Lan regularly slams doors in your face. Oh wait, he doesn’t, because you’re his preciousJaxson.” The name sounded like an accusation.
Jaxson headed for the kitchen, Colt following like a particularly persistent shadow. He downed two glasses of water while his brother watched with predatory attention. The tension between them was physical, crackling in the air like electricity before a storm.
“It was probably something stupid I did last night,” Jaxson admitted, grimacing.Like touching him in ways no brother should. Like making him come apart in my arms. Like nearly kissing him senseless. Like claiming what’s mine.
Colt’s laugh held no humor. “You? The perfect older brother? Do something stupid? Alert the media.” His eyes narrowed,something dark and almost knowing in their depths. “Fix it. We have that dinner party tonight, and I’d rather not watch you mope around like someone canceled Christmas.”
The command in Colt’s voice grated against Jaxson’s nerves like sandpaper on an open wound. Who was Colt to tell him how to handle Lan? His possessive instincts flared again, that strange growl building in his throat that he barely managed to suppress. His vision sharpened again, the edges of the room coming into crisp focus, Colt’s challenging posture suddenly much more threatening than it should have been.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Wei’s voice cut through the tension like a well-timed referee whistle. He took one look at them and smirked, his eyes dancing with that ancient knowledge that always made Jaxson wonder just how much he knew. “Oh good, family drama before coffee. My favorite.”
“Just discussing Jaxson’s spectacular talent for making Lan run away,” Colt supplied, each word carefully chosen like ammunition.
