“The takeaway is I should have remembered to buy earplugs,” he states.
“Whatever, you’re going to miss my senseless rambling,” I tell him.
“Where is Price from?” he asks.
“It’s Welsh. Technically it’s derived from something else, I don’t remember exactly. Rhys, maybe? Whatever it is, it means enthusiasm in Welsh. If you ever get the pleasure of seeing me and my sister together, you’ll be like, ‘yep, that’s accurate.’”
“I don’t think I could handle two of you. Does she talk as much as you do?”
“Maybe more.”
I struggle to keep my eyes on his face as he walks around to his side of the bed. I told myself I could steal a peek and see what he’s working with now that I’ve rubbed my face on his dick—even if it was covered, it still has to count for something—but his eyes are on me, and I’m not bold enough to check him out while he watches. Before I can convince myself to look, Sin pulls back the blanket and climbs in next to me. “Is that what you study in school?”
I ignore the fleeting pinch of disappointment and refocus on our conversation. “Etymology? No, not even close. I’m more into science, but I’ve been doing my general education coursework and getting it out of the way so I can focus more on my major. Biological chemistry, that’s my major.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Do you like calculus?”
Sin shakes his head. “I can’t say for sure, but I would guess no.”
I nod. “Then you probably wouldn’t have much fun in my classes. It’s a lot of math.”
“The math required for my job is much simpler. John Doe owes us $10,000 within the next 7 days. If John Doe has $5,000 and a piss-poor excuse at the end of those 7 days, how many of John Doe’s fingers should I take?”
I’m a terrible person for not being horrified by that. “Have you really…? How do you take off fingers?”
“Depends. The tool you use varies by the result you want.”
I prop myself up on the pillow and turn on my side to look over at him. “Isn’t the desired result a severed finger? That seems fairly straightforward.”
“Sure, but you want to deliver different levels of pain and agony. More or less fear. More or less dread. Sometimes it’s just a thing you have to do so you do it clean, other times you want to make ‘em hurt. Anyway, we shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“I think I would pass out if I cut off someone’s finger,” I inform him.
“Eh, you get used to it.”
A startled chuckle sneaks out of me. “No, I don’t think that’s something I would ever get used to. I mean, forget the blood, maybe that you could get used to, but with every new person you would have to experience the fresh emotional horror all over again. I couldn’t do that to someone, let alone multiple someones. How do you deal with it emotionally?”
“Helps to be heartless,” he offers.
“You are not heartless,” I say, shaking my head.
Sin looks over at me and cocks a skeptical eyebrow. “Based on what evidence?”
I hold up my wrists, unburdened by cuffs. “This is just the most recent addition to my research, but it’s a comprehensive study. I’ll make the argument and present all my findings if you really want me to.”
Sin shakes his head at me. “Rafe’s right; you are a nerd.”
“I am not ashamed,” I state. “I’m also honestly curious about your process. Do you go to a certain place in your head in order to do it? Do you ever lie awake in bed at night thinking about the things you do for work?”
Instead of answering my questions, Sin reaches a big, rough hand over to gr
ab mine. I’m already suitably distracted, but then he locks our fingers together and settles our hands on his muscled abdomen.
“That is quite an effective change of subject,” I tell him, eyeing our locked fingers.
“Not changing the subject, just keeping you close. If I’m not locking you down tonight, I’ve gotta make sure you stay put some other way, don’t I?”