Page 188 of Sin

“We wanted Eden to explore temptation without shame,” I continue. “Pleasure as curiosity. Desire as discovery. The idea that wanting doesn’t have to be hidden in the dark to be powerful.”

My voice catches slightly on the last line. But Sin hears it. I know he does.

Because he straightens from the wall and because we both know Amsterdam was once the dark. A line we crossed and crossed and crossed until there was no going back.

Now, the lights are bright. My name is on the screen. His ring is on my finger. And wanting him no longer feels like something I have to survive.

When the presentation ends, the applause is loud enough that I stand there for a second, stunned.

“Thank you,” I say, laughing softly. “We’ll be taking questions after the product showcase.”

The moment I step offstage, people surround me. I answer questions about materials, suction settings, waterproof ratings, packaging, preorders, international release windows, and whether the serpent will have a couples-mode app integration. It will, obviously, because I’m a genius.

Through all of it, I feel Sin watching me. Just there. Supportive and proud. That might be the sexiest thing about him now. And considering the man can make rolling up his sleeves feel like a felony, that’s saying something.

When the crowd finally thins, I find him near the champagne table, talking to a Dutch distributor like he hasn’t been staring at me all evening with the kind of expression that should come with a curtain and a warning label.

He sees me approaching and immediately stops listening to whoever is speaking. The distributor follows his gaze, smiles knowingly, and excuses himself.

Sin doesn’t look away from me.

“Well?” I ask.

He steps closer. “You were incredible.”

My chest warms. “One of your more original reviews.”

“You were brilliant.”

“Keep going.”

“Sexy.”

I point at him. “There he is.”

His smile deepens. “You asked.”

“I asked for professional praise.”

“I’m professionally attracted to you.”

I snort. “That is absolutely going in your vows.”

His gaze drops to my mouth. “I already wrote my vows.”

My heart does something unfair. “You did?”

“Yes.”

His hand finds mine, thumb brushing the ring he put there three months ago in our kitchen while I was wearing pajamas and threatening Claudia the plant with relocation because she kept dropping leaves on my windowsill. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was perfect.

He’d gotten down on one knee beside an open box of takeout and said, “I want ordinary with you for the rest of my life.”

I cried into pad Thai

Now he lifts my hand and kisses the ring right there in public.

My throat tightens.