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Why is it in me to want to know everything about her? And why do I want to rewind the clock, and go back to dinner when she had a smile on her face just for me?
As we ate at the table, I couldn’t stop grinning because of her laugh. Doing shit to make her let out that sweet tinkle or occasional snort had been my goal.
Now, my words have pushed her away and she’s as distant as the future.
Sin stares at the floor as she drinks her water, refusing to look at me. She’ll have to at some point, with me standing in front of her.
Yet, after several moments of tense silence, I speak first, caving in to her sullenness without a fight. “Can we start over?”
She scoffs, tossing her head back.
“Come on, Sin.” I take the glass she’s just lifted to her lips and set it on the countertop.
Glaring at me, her eyes meet in the middle when I pin her to the wall, my arms near her head, caging her in. She looks unsure, as if she’s warring with herself to flee or let me have my way. When I kiss her forehead and then place my own on hers, her body relaxes, and that gives me an ‘in’ I’m not about to waste.
“Let’s go back to bed.”
She hesitates for a beat. Then two. Finally, she huffs out a breath, then nods. I take her hand, and after I’ve clicked the TV off, I lead her down the hallway. Trouble is, my dick grows on the way to her room, almost as if it can sense an impending release.
It will have to wait.
Sin and I need to clear the air before things get convoluted. We still have six weeks of working together and being awkward at the office is not an option.
More for her than for me.
I’ve never taken part in locker-room talk, but I have heard it. Amongst each other, men rate women according to their looks, their bodies, and the length of their skirts. I won’t have Sin’s name in the mouths of any men at STS unless it pertains to work.
We enter her room and I almost laugh when I see Sin has neatly folded back her covers like she did during that night in New Orleans. I let her get into bed first, just to see what she will do.
Sure enough, she repeats the same ritual, including pulling the covers up to her eyes. Those big browns watch me as I round the bed and join her under the sheets.
At least she got rid of those damn magazines. With me riding her from behind, I made her crawl to her closet, open the door, and toss them in. Snapping her head back by her hair, I had her swear never to use them while I was in town. Funny being jealous of myself in paper form, but Sin doesn’t need to be coming to me. She needs to be cumming on me.
I pull the covers from her hands and give her my phone. I have so many damn questions; I don’t know where to begin.
Her room is as good a place as any, I suppose.
“So what’s with this princess theme? Do you really like fairy tales so much?”
Sin: It’s nice to have hope. That’s what princesses and fairy tales represent to me.
“What do you hope for?”
Sin: If you expect me to say true love, you’d be mistaken. That doesn’t exist. However, I would like a couple of kids. And maybe a dog someday.
A woman who obviously believes in happy-ever-after, but not true love? She’s a contradiction walking. Not completely surprising given her behavior in New Orleans.
Quirky and sassy. Demure and bold. I wonder what other inconsistencies I have yet to discover. The idea prompts me to ask. “Do you like your job?”
She gives me an inscrutable look, then types:I got the manager’s job on my own merit.
My stomach churns as guilt invades me like a foreign army. For a second, on the night I grilled her about her duties and her team, I had the same thought. Damn stupid, I know.
“Despite what Greg Sumpter said during that meeting, I know you did it on your own. You don’t have to convince me. And just so you know, the Grayson Group allows nepotism forqualifiedindividuals. Greg was not. Prick already had the mark of Cain on him before I arrived.”
She nods, then sucks part of her lip behind her teeth. Bending her head, she begins to type.
Sin: I want to apologize for how I acted in the restroom. You were only trying to help.
