Page 40 of Sin

She turns it in her hands, examining the inner track. “The problem isn’t the pressure. It’s the release.”

I stare at her.

She doesn’t notice. Or she pretends not to.

“You’re building too much resistance into the return,” she says. “It needs to give a little before it tightens again.”

I close my eyes for one second.

Fuck. This is torture.

When I open them, she’s looking at me. Her cheeks are definitely flushed now.

“You know what I mean,” she says.

“I do.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

I take the casing from her hand and set it back on the table. “Then stop saying things like that.”

Her chin lifts. “I’m discussing your design.”

“You’re discussing release and resistance.”

“Because those are the issues with your design.”

I step closer before I can stop myself. She doesn’t move.

“You should go home,” I say.

Her gaze drops briefly to my mouth.

“Probably,” she says.

Neither of us moves.

The lab hums around us, soft and clinical and completely useless. There are cameras in the hall. Employees who could come in. A wife at home who hasn’t asked where I am because she stopped caring long before I stopped wanting her to. That thought should cool me. It doesn’t. It only makes the want feel uglier.

Laurel clears her throat and looks back at the prototype. “You need a softer material along the inner track.”

I laugh once under my breath. Jesus Christ.

She frowns. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, say it.”

“Think about what you just said to me about a sex toy.”

Her lips part. Then she laughs.

“Well, that’s my sign that I need to call it a night.” She puts a safe amount of distance between us and grabs her shoes. “Your design is good, Mason.” She gathers the rest of her things and moves to the door. “Have a good night.”

Cool air from the hall slips into the lab.

Before she leaves, she says, “For what it’s worth, Pride doesn’t need to be safe to be memorable.”