“Gotcha, Gidge,” he murmurs, kissing the side of my neck and sliding his hand down my belly toward the waistband of my jeans. My breath catches, but I don’t stop Sin when he pops the button and slips his fingers beneath my panties.
He finds me wet and wanting for it, so bad that I can’t quite keep a moan back, even though I know Grey and Reba can hear me.
“How the hell was I able to ignore you for two years?” Sin wonders aloud, his gray eyes half-lidded as he drags me against him, stroking along my slick folds as I bite my lower lip to stifle the noises I so desperately want to make.
“I could ask myself that same question,” I murmur, letting him wrap his left arm around my waist as he slips a single finger in with a sharp hiss, like it’d be impossible to wait to get into the bedroom to see if I’m tight and hot and ready for him. “Once you let yourself give into an obsession, it’s like a dark curse: there is no escape.”
“Your voice …” Sin breathes back at me, pushing a second finger in and drinking in my expression with a devilish one of his own. He brings life to this house in a way that Crown and Beast don’t. They’re both so goddamn serious. This is nice. With Sin, I want to play. With Sin, I feel like I might actually still be eighteen in a few ways that matter. “So husky, so beautiful.”
I want him to sing to me so damn bad, but I’m too prideful to ask.
Having just seen him after so many days apart, things feel new and weird again. Maybe because of that fucking kiss. There’s just something about Sin’s mouth that’s always managed to get me into trouble.
And those fingers … the idle hands of the devil.
“You’re too good at this,” I murmur, pushing at his wrist. He refuses to budge, keeping his gaze on my face, the scar on the right side of his lip pulling at his mouth and granting me that crooked smile I love so much. “It pisses me off, thinking about how you might’ve gained this skill.”
“Consider it balance: I had to sleep with girls I didn’t love, so that you could sleep with three other men you do love.” He shrugs one shoulder loosely, turning us and encouraging me to lean against the wall as he fucks me nice and slow with his inked hand, my fingers curled over his shoulders as he keeps me standing and soaks my panties with desire. “You’re a married woman now. Somehow, I always knew I’d fall in love with a married woman.”
“Seems like your jam,” I whisper back, but the sensation of his fingers, stroking and petting and coaxing, are too much. It’s hard to be coy when I’m being played like an instrument.
Sin lets out a sharp laugh, releasing me suddenly and sliding his hand from my pants. He lifts his glossy fingers to his mouth as I give him a look. Our eyes lock as he slides both between his lips, sucking my heat off and groaning like he loves the taste of me.
“You’re sick,” I growl at him, slamming my palm into his shoulder. He grunts in pain, and my eyes widen. “Fuck, I’m an idiot. I didn’t hit you in the gunshot, did I?”
“In the gunshot,” Sin says with a small half-smile and a sigh. “No, but you were close.” The smiles fades as quickly as it came, and then Sin is putting his hands on my shoulders and searching my face with desperation. “All of it was close, Gidge.”
I slap his hand away with a frown.
“Don’t forget that I know where those fingers just were. Don’t touch me.” I try to push him off, but he holds me there, that intense gaze boring into me the way it always does. Somehow, Sin knows how to find pockets of sadness and melancholy; he knows how to pop them and watch them bleed.
I feel myself shifting uncomfortably beneath his stare, and he releases me, standing up straight and running a hand over that blue hair of his. I’m happy to see that the myriad silver hoops in his right ear are back. He just wouldn’t be Colton Young without a little pizzazz.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asks, his right hand scratching at the back of his head in thought.
“This?” I query, looking back at him and trying to ignore the throbbing between my thighs.
“Life on this compound is going to get so much worse before it gets better,” he promises me, frowning hard. “But it’s not too late to run.”
“I thought we had this conversation?” I ask, trying to subtly move us toward his bedroom. He notices and quirks a cocky smile at me.
