Page 13 of Sin

Wilder looks toward the sound and then back at me slowly. “Tell me that’s not her.”

The problem? The second I hear her voice through the door saying, “Mr. Sinclair?” Every rational thought in my goddamn head disappears.

“Come in.”

The door opens, and Laurel steps inside. Every muscle in my body immediately tightens. Fuck me.

She smiles when she notices Wilder.

“Wilder. I didn’t know you were still here.”

Before I can process what’s happening, she crosses the room and leans down to kiss the side of his cheek. Wilder does the same to her automatically, casual as breathing. How in the hell have I never noticed how comfortable she is with my brothers? Wilder’s grinning at her. She’s smiling back at him. Relaxed. Warm. Familiar. Meanwhile, she barely looks at me without turning defensive.

Jealousy twists low in my chest before I can stop it and the realization pisses me off instantly.

“You wanted something?”

The question comes out rougher than intended, enough that Laurel’s brows lift as she turns toward me. Apparently I’m not hiding my mood very well.

“Mr. Sinclair,” she says carefully, “I’d like to ask you one last time to reconsider. I can handle this project on my own.”

There’s that stubborn tilt to her chin again. The one that makes me want to argue with her just so I can watch her get worked up.

“No.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“I already thought about it.”

“And?”

“And my answer is still no.”

She folds her arms beneath her chest, and my brain instantly betrays me by noticing exactly how that makes her blouse tighten across her big tits. Jesus Christ. Focus.

“Laurel,” Wilder says carefully, clearly sensing the tension thickening the room, “Sin’s just trying to help.”

She snorts softly. “That’s not reassuring coming from one of his brothers.”

Wilder outright laughs. Traitor.

I keep my eyes on her. “You’re not handling this project alone.”

“I’ve handled every major campaign for this company for three years.”

“And this one is different.”

“How?”

Because this one feels like you. Dangerous. Addictive. Impossible to control.

Instead, I say, “Because I said so.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I know it’s the wrong answer.

Laurel’s expression cools instantly. “Right. Of course.”

Wilder mutters, “Oh, that was definitely the wrong thing to say.”