Page 89 of Sin

I look away, but not fast enough.

Staying in Kansas through the weekend. Don’t wait up.

The words sit there between us.

Sin exhales slowly and I climb off his lap and back into the passenger seat, fixing my dress with shaking hands.

“Take me home,” I whisper.

This time, he does. Neither of us speaks the rest of the way.

When he pulls up outside my building, I reach for the door handle.

“Laurel.”

I stop. His voice is different. Lower. His eyes are on my apartment building. Then on me.

“Is your couch comfortable?”

My breath catches. It’s such a stupid question. Such an obvious question.

“No,” I say.

His gaze drops to my mouth. “Good.”

I should tell him to go home. I should remind him that Jenna is in Kansas but still his wife and this is where we stop.

Instead, I open the door and step out into the cold.

He follows.

He takes my suitcase from the back like this is perfectly normal. Like he is just being polite. Like he isn’t about to come upstairs and make another mistake with me in the apartment I have spent years making lonely on purpose.

The ride up in the elevator is silent. Sin stands behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him through my coat. I stare at our reflection in the elevator doors. Me, flushed and undone. Him, dark and unreadable, my suitcase at his feet and guilt sitting somewhere behind his eyes.

Inside, my apartment is dark and cool and smells faintly like vanilla. This is my safe place. And then Sin steps inside, and it changes. He sets my suitcase down. The door closes behind him. The lock turns. Neither of us moves. The temptation is so strong it feels like a physical thing in the room, pressing against my skin, filling my lungs, pulling me toward him.

“You should go,” I whisper.

“I know.”

“You’re not going to.”

“No.”

My heart slams. “Why?”

His eyes hold mine. “Because I’m tired of pretending I want to.”

That does it. I cross the space between us, and he meets me halfway. His coat hits the floor first. Then mine. Then his hands are on my face, and his mouth is on mine, and my back is against the door, the apartment dark around us, the city outside, Jenna in Kansas, and every reason we should stop locked on the other side.

The lust isn’t softer here. It’s worse. Because this isn’t a hotel room, or jet, or truck. This is mine. My bed down the hall. My life.

And he is in it now.

Sin lifts me enough that I gasp and cling to him, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me away from the door.

“Bedroom?” he asks against my mouth.