by Sam Mariano
I watch her, frowning in confusion. “What do you mean, you don’t know? What’s not to know? You’re pregnant with my child; we’re not at odds anymore, so why wouldn’t you stay with me?”
“Because… I’m staying with him,” she says, taking another step back, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know exactly what to call this, but I don’t see how I can just…”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I assure her. “I’ll talk to Sin. I’ll take care of it. I know that would be uncomfortable for you; I won’t make you do that.”
“I don’t need you to—no.”
Why is this damn girl still resisting me? I just had her in my arms a minute ago. “You’re still pissed at me?”
“No, that’s not why—” Cutting off mid-sentence, she shakes her head. “It has nothing to do with you. I just can’t walk away from Sin like that. That would be mean, and I don’t want to.”
I frown harder. “You don’t want to? You don’t want to go home with me? You would rather stay here with him?”
“I don’t want to do this. Let’s go back to the kitchen. Dinner is probably done anyway, and I’m all better now. Thank you for coming to help me get my head together, but… we need to get back out there before Sin starts to worry.”
I am fucking flabbergasted. Laurel slips past me and pulls open the door, darting into the hall like she’s afraid I’ll trap her inside otherwise. I’m too stunned to try. Laurel isn’t supposed to like Sin. He’s supposed to be the pair of arms she turned to when I was an asshole, not someone she would rather spend the night with than me. It wasn’t even something she had to think about. She could have said she needed time to think it over, to make a decision, but there was no decision. It was him. Even with my door open, she wants to stay here, in this fucking house that’s a fraction of mine, with my enforcer. She could have me, and she chooses to stay here with him.
What the fuck?
Straightening my jacket and rubbing a hand down my now-damp shirtfront, I check the mirror to make sure I’ve schooled my expression before heading back downstairs.
Laurel is in the kitchen already, right by Sin, like she has a guilty conscience, but it’s misdirected. If her damned conscience is weighing on her, it should be because she’s taken another man’s dick when she’s apparently pregnant with my kid, not because she was locked in a bathroom with me. If she yearns to make amends, it should be to me, not him.
Her loyalty should be mine, not his.
Sin turns around and shoves a plate full of food at me. His face is expressionless, his eyes flat. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and I’m too compromised right now to dig. I’m biased by what I expect to see—smugness—and what I want to see—that he feels threatened—so I can’t peel back his veneer right now and peek at what’s actually happening. I’m too close to it. Too invested in the result.
I don’t know if it even matters. If Laurel is on the page she seems to be on, it doesn’t. Not tonight, at least. I can do more work on both of them and get my way eventually, but I don’t want him having her in the meantime. I hate knowing he’s touched her at all, but to lie alone in my bed tonight knowing he’s still touching her? It’s an infuriating prospect.
I wanted her to be easy, goddammit. I apologized, I meant it, I fixed my behavior; now get your ass in line and come home with me, for fuck’s sake. Warm my bed, not Sin’s.
Instead, I have to endure this dinner and watch her treat him like her master. Laurel works harder to please Sin with the food she made him, most of her attention, her amusing stories. All of it makes me so fucking angry, I can hardly think straight.
I recognize the repentance in her, the desire to make up for possibly slighting him, even if he didn’t see it. I would love that instinct, if she directed it at me. It’s wasted on Sin. Whether it’s how he has learned to handle her or just because I’m here, he is stonewalling her. Not as harshly as I did, much more stealthily. He’s withholding just enough to make her worry, just enough to make her sweeter, just enough that he collects looks from her ranging from slightly eager, to longing, to desperate for his approval. His carefully controlled responses don’t make her think he’s being a dick to her, they make her think she’s hurt his feelings—and Laurel isn’t big on hurting feelings, so it’s exactly the right card to play.
I hate to fucking admit it, but he’s playing her like a goddamn fiddle, and she doesn’t even know. It’s a little like watching Mia dance around Mateo, except that after years spent learning his ways, my cousin’s wife knows what he’s doing. Laurel has never played this game before, so she doesn’t have a clue.
I should tell her.
No, I shouldn’t tell her, I should have someone else do it. I wish I had some ex-girlfriend of his I could dig up, but even thinking of digging up Sin’s ex is frankly gruesome. Someone needs to shed some light on him for Laurel, but it can’t be me. It won’t work coming from my lips. I’m too obviously invested and given our history, anything I say against him is more likely to make her dig in loyally like she has tonight.
No, I can’t be quite so direct.
I’ll have to think of something else.
24
Laurel
When it’s time for Rafe to leave, he asks me to walk him to the door. Everything within me compels me to say no, but no seems not to be an option as his fingers lock around my wrist and he hauls me down the stairs with him anyway. I glance back at Sin, waiting for him to intervene, but he keeps making me handle this shit myself.
I consider the possibility of getting kidnapped from my kidnapper. It’s funny, but I don’t think feasible. Sin is quite capable of kidnapping me back, though I don’t know whether or not he would. Rafe is his boss, after all. Maybe that’s why he keeps letting Rafe get me alone like this. I’m not sure how any of this works.
As expected, once he has me alone by the door, Rafe asks, “You’re sure you don’t want to come home with me?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” I tell him.
I’m wary, uncertain how he’ll take it. Nodding, he caresses my hand and looks pensive. Releasing my hand, he leans in toward me. I think he’s going to kiss me so I lean back, but he already anticipated that. Instead of letting me pull away, he catches the back of my neck in a grip that should be tender, but it makes me want to fight him. Only there’s really nothing to fight. He doesn’t kiss me—not on the mouth, at least. He merely presses his lips to my cheek, but near enough that he can murmur in my ear, “Be careful with him.”
I frown, even though he can’t see me.
He must feel that he got my attention, because he goes on to add, “There are a lot of things you don’t know about him, Laurel.”
I go to pull back, and this time he lets me. His amber eyes meet mine, and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about you, too.”
He doesn’t work harder to convince me that Sin is bad news, he simply tells me, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Given what I do know about these men, that’s alarming. It could mean what it would with any man—that my heart could get dinged up. But because of their professions—if you can even call them that—it could also mean something far worse. I’m understandably curious, but of course since he has my attention (or maybe because Sin is looming at the top of the stairs) Rafe doesn’t offer anything further. He gives my hand a little squeeze and tells me goodnight, then he’s gone.
Although he left a question hanging in the air, I feel relieved as I shut the door and lean against it, looking up at Sin. He stands at the top of the stairs, keeping an eye on things, despite his lack of intervention. My base instincts tell me I owe him for what happened in the bathroom, even though nothing actually happened. I also don’t belong to Sin, so even if something had happened, I’m not sure I would owe him anything. It’s not a logical thought; it’s a need, alive and pulsing inside me. I don’t know where it came from, why it’s there, or why I never felt it so strongly before I met
Rafe. Both of them have triggered it at different points, but since noticing Sin, it’s only him.
I did feel a twinge of something in the bathroom when Rafe told me no one could be at their best all the time. I didn’t like the idea of him thinking I only liked him on his best behavior. That’s fake. Of course I know everyone has uglier times, but his instant shift toward blistering coldness was another thing entirely. I wanted Rafe to feel my acceptance, that he could be human and I wouldn’t hold it against him, but I still felt tied to Sin, too.
Which I realize is also absurd, because I’m only going to be here a few more days. I’m not in a relationship with Sin. Hell, he may still tie my ass to the bed before he leaves tomorrow because he doesn’t trust me to stay put.
I still want to please him. I still yearn to kneel on the ground before him and look at him, for his firm hand to caress my face. I yearn to show him I’m still his good girl.
None of that really makes sense if I try to look at it logically, but I feel it. It’s like Rafe awakened something within me that Sin can touch, too, and I can’t put it back into whatever box I must have been keeping it before we met.
Sin watches me ascend the stairs toward him, but he doesn’t move. My skin warms when he stays put as I step on the landing. His hand slides around my waist and he pulls me close. I go easily, draping my arms on his shoulders and relaxing as my body presses against his.
“What did he say to you?” Sin asks, without preamble.
“Just now?” When he nods, I drop my gaze, but keep my arms and my body where they are. “He said to be careful with you.”
“Did he say why?”
I shake my head no, hoping Sin will fill in that blank for me.
He doesn’t, though. Some of the tension eases out of him, and I get the distinct impression that asking will bring it back. As curious as I am, as much as I want to know Sin’s secrets, I probably don’t need to. This is all temporary, and with only a few days more to enjoy him, maybe it’s better to stay in the moment and leave the past where it belongs. Someday there will be a woman who gets to stay in his arms, but it won’t be me. I’m only a guest star in their world. Once more, I’m only vacationing amid the madness, sipping the tea and snuggling a dangerous, sexy companion—and once more, I don’t get to keep any of it.
I’m tempted to sink back into a pocket of sadness, but Sin brings me back to him, caressing my jaw with the back of his hand. “What are you thinking right now?”
I sigh. “I’m thinking about experiences. How it’s nice to collect them, but I’m wondering when I’ll ever get to keep any.”
“Why can’t you keep them now?” he asks.
“Because I keep wandering into places I don’t belong. All the experiences in my own life are boring, and I end up in these exciting new environments, but I don’t have a role there. I’m only there because someone has a temporary spot for me. It just feels like everything in my life is always temporary. I never get to keep anything for myself.”
“Sure you could,” he disagrees. “You just have to make that choice. That’s the difference between visitors and residents. One chooses to stay, one chooses not to.”
I shake my head, running over the sheer impossibility of staying in this one. Baby or no baby, Vegas is no place for me. I have my school back in Chicago, my sister back in Connecticut—and my brother-in-law isn’t allowed to come here, so I would never see the people who matter most to me. Sure, Carly would come visit me without him, but not all the time.
“That would be crazy and illogical,” I tell him.
“Everything is crazy and illogical if you’re looking at it from the wrong perspective.”
My lips curve up in a smile, and he runs his index finger across my mouth, tracing it. “Of course you would tell me my perspective is wrong. Yours is always right, isn’t it?”
At least he smiles before he says, “Always.”
“Maybe you should just make all my decisions for me,” I suggest.
His tone is light, for Sin, but I can’t dispute a hint of truth in his words. “Maybe I already do.”
I frown at him, but he runs his fingers over my brow and smoothes it out before pressing his lips to my forehead.
Taking my hand in his, he says, “Come on.”
I follow him, asking, “Where are we going?”
“To bed.”
Anticipation quickens my steps. “Already? But it’s so early. Whatever will we do to pass the time?” I tease.
“I bet we can think of something,” he tells me.
Are we actually going to have sex? Nerves tumble around in my tummy, but as soon as we get to his bedroom, he lets go of my hand and starts stripping off that belt. It’s only been a few nights, but each one he’s done that while watching me, and I’m starting to react like Pavlov’s dog. The sound of the leather moving through the loops of his slacks makes my stomach tighten with desire. Heat blooms in my cheeks as my gaze drops, waiting for him to show me more.
His voice startles me and I look back at his face. “Take your shirt off.”
My stomach does a little drop as he tugs his own shirt off. I’m drawn closer to him, like I’m a magnet and he’s the wall of metal I want to live on. As I move closer, his eyes warm, offering me wordless encouragement. While I still remember the order he just gave me, I reach for the hem of my shirt and drag it over my head. His gaze remains on mine when I first take it off, then he gestures to my pajama shorts.
Well, not my pajama shorts. The ones I’m borrowing from whomever all these clothes belong to. Before we have sex, I wonder if I should ask about that. I imagine Rafe would have told me if Sin had a secret wife or girlfriend tucked away somewhere. Instead, he left me with vague curiosities and baseless warnings.
He wouldn’t fuck me if he had someone, right? I don’t think he would, but I also don’t know whose clothes I’m taking off.
Sin watches me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”
Forcing my attention back to the moment, I shake my head. “Nothing. Why?”
He’s still wearing his slacks, but since I haven’t done a good enough job undressing myself, I guess, he stops and walks across the short stretch between us. He steps behind me and I feel his hands settle on my bare shoulders again. Peace trickles through me, like his hands on my shoulders restore my balance. I look at my left shoulder, at his strong, scarred hand resting on my pale, unmarked flesh. I can’t resist the urge to lean over and press my lips against the back of his hand. I really, really like his hands. Every scar tells a story, a dirty, ugly story that would probably traumatize me, but they belong to him. He moves his hand across my collar bone and I bend my head to kiss it again. I still remember the taste of him on my tongue, the way he made me kneel naked on the ground for him, just so he could get a mental image of what Rafe taunted him with.
I never got to taste him from there. When I finally got a little taste, I was on the bed and he was in a hurry.
I want to worship every inch of him. I want to kiss every scar, run my mouth along every beautiful inch of his body.
He still hasn’t even kissed me. Those perfect lips of his have brushed my forehead, but I want to taste his lips. I want to feel his tongue sweep into my mouth while he drives his cock inside my body, stretching me to fit him.
I sigh, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. I haven’t even known him for long, but I’m relieved at the thought of being with him tonight. Now his hand drifts down my chest, catching one of my breasts and weighing it in his hand. My B-cups aren’t much to begin with, but in his big hands, they feel even smaller. His thumb thrums my nipple, which beads for him so he can roll it between blunt, calloused fingers.
Reaching my arm back to wind around his neck, I pull him closer. “Sin.”
He bends his head and kisses my neck, causing pleasure to spark and explode all along my nerve endings. There’s a stubbly shadow along his jaw, and after his soft lips kiss my skin, that stubble follows up with a ro
ugh little scratch. I squirm against his hard body, my neck lolling to the side to give him greater access. I’m in heaven as his fingers tease my nipple, as his strong arm locked around my waist holds me close, as his mouth teases and soothes my neck. I can’t even think straight. My eyes drift shut and I let him kiss my neck and obliterate my senses for a few more heavenly minutes. I might stay here indefinitely, but then Sin pulls me out of my fog and pushes his hands inside the thin fabric of my sleep shorts. His hands skim my hips as they drag the material down, then he pulls me back against him again and runs his hand over my bare ass. My skin tingles as his face moves close, his lips finding my neck again.
Oh, God, he can do that forever. The hand on my ass moves to my hip so he can keep me anchored, then he toys with my breasts again.
“Mm, I like these,” he murmurs.
Pleasure floods me and I smile. “Yeah? Not too small?”
“Perfect.” He kisses the shell of my ear, murmuring, “They’ll get bigger, though.”
My eyebrows rise, but as he bites my earlobe, the breath rushes out of me. It takes a minute before I can find my voice to inform him, “I know I’m a little on the young side, but I’m pretty much done growing. Sorry to disappoint.”
His hand leaves my breast and coasts to my abdomen. My stomach twists, thinking he’s going to drift lower, but he stays right there, placing his big palm across my flat tummy and rubbing. “Give it a few months, you’ll see.”
My jaw opens slightly and I turn to stare up at him. “Are you serious? You have no shame.”
Smiling faintly, he agrees, “None.”
25
Laurel
Sin’s big hand caresses my tummy as I stand in his embrace, like he’s being sweet instead of pushy. It shouldn’t melt me. He’s being a bossy jerkface, trying to manipulate me. I can see that, I can admit it, but the tenderness in his caress disarms me when I want to be annoyed at him. It feels real, and that confuses me. If anything, if Sin really liked me, I would think he wouldn’t want me pregnant by someone else. Never in my wildest imaginings would I have imagined a guy who liked me trying to convince me I should procreate with another man.
