Page 122 of Sin

I stare at him. His mouth curves. He takes the tie from my hand, tosses it onto the chair, and sets both hands on my waist.

“Sin.”

“I know.”

“We should stop.”

“I know.”

“Someone could have walked in.”

“I know.”

His hands tighten and my body responds immediately because it is a faithless, reckless disaster.

He lowers his mouth to my ear. “Tell me you don’t still want me.”

I close my eyes.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No,” I admit. “I really don’t.”

His mouth brushes my neck. That’s all it takes. All that panic, all that adrenaline, all that terrifying almost, and suddenly I’m right back on the edge of wanting him so badly it makes me stupid. He lifts me onto the desk again.

This time, before he kisses me, he looks toward the door then back at me.

“The door is locked now,” he says.

I should point out that Wilder is probably somewhere on this floor forming very valid suspicions. Instead, I grab Sin by the open edges of his shirt and pull him between my thighs.

“Then you’d better be quick.”

His eyes go dark.

“Quick,” he says, kissing me hard, “is how we got interrupted.”

And because I am apparently determined to ruin my life with enthusiasm, I laugh against his mouth and let him finish what we started. Twice.

19

Laurel

“Laurel, are you listening?”

I glance up to find Tate watching me, looking concerned.

“Sorry. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Oh no. I heard there’s a cold going around.” He takes a step away from me like he’s worried I’m contiguous. “Think you’re up to presenting to the board?”

“Yeah.” At his look, I straighten my shoulders. “Yes, Tate. I am.”

“Good.” He pauses. “You seem happier.”

That makes me freeze, but I recover quickly.