Page 52 of Sin
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You made a face.”
“My face has questions.”
“Your face can mind its business.”
He holds up both hands in surrender.
I grab my purse. “You buying us drinks?”
“You’ll have to ask Sin. He’s buying.”
I slow. “That’s nice of him to pay.”
“Yeah… and because he’s going to be there.”
I close my eyes. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I would, but you’re already holding that purse like you’re about to beat me with it.”
“I might.”
“Understandable.”
And because I have that kind of luck, Mason walks up at that exact moment.
“Good morning.”
I turn slowly. He stands there in a dark suit and black overcoat, looking like he stepped out of an expensive car and directly into my nervous system. His eyes go from Tate to me. Then over my shoulder, into my office.
His mouth curves.
“Wow,” he says. “That’s impressive.”
My cheeks catch fire.
“What was it?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. “Nine inches?”
“I’ve seen bigger,” I snap.
Mason’s gaze darkens just for a second. Enough to make my pulse trip.
“Have you?” The words are calm, but I’m not fooled.
Tate makes a quiet choking sound beside me.
I lift my chin. “Much bigger. And for the record, if that was supposed to impress me, it didn’t.”
“No?” Mason asks.
“No.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. Then back to my eyes.
“Good thing it wasn’t for you, then.”
The hit lands before I can prepare for it and my stomach twists, but I refuse to let him see it.
