Page 77 of Sin

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I do.”

Something in him breaks softer this time. He kisses me again, and when his hand moves between my thighs, it is no longer around the toy. It is him. His fingers. His touch.

My body bows beneath him.

He groans into my mouth. “So wet.”

His weight settles over me, careful but unmistakable, and for one dizzy second I forget everything except the feel of him. The heat of him. The hard press of his body against mine.

Then his ring catches against my skin and we both freeze. His mouth stills against mine.

Mason pulls back first. His breathing is rough, his eyes dark and wrecked, and for one terrible second I think he’s going to stop. He should stop. I should want him to stop. Instead, all I can do is lie there beneath him, naked and trembling, while he stares down at his hand like it belongs to someone else.

“Sin,” I whisper.

His jaw flexes.

Then he sits back on his heels.

The sudden loss of him makes me cold. He doesn’t look at me as he reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. My breath catches. I’ve seen him in suits. Sweaters. T-shirts stretched across his shoulders in ways that should be illegal. But nothing prepares me for the sight of him like this. Bare chest. Broad shoulders. Hard stomach. Smooth skin broken only by the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. He drops the shirt on the floor.

Then his hands go to his belt.

His eyes lift to mine.

“Tell me to stop,” he says.

I don’t and the buckle comes undone. The zipper follows. He pushes his pants down his hips, stepping out of them with the same terrible calm he brings to boardrooms. Then he stands there in nothing but black boxer briefs, his body hard and beautiful and so obviously affected by me that my stomach clenches. Then I look. Down his chest. Over his stomach. To the outline of him straining against the thin fabric.

Holy.

Shit.

My pulse jumps everywhere at once.

His mouth tightens like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Still curious?” he asks.

I swallow. “Unfortunately.”

Something almost like a smile touches his mouth. Then it fades. He looks down at his hand again.

At the ring.

The moment shifts. His thumb moves over the band once and I stop breathing.

“Sin,” I say, softer this time.

He doesn’t look at me.

“I know,” he says.

Just two words. Full of things neither of us is brave enough to say.

Then he slides the ring off.