My stomach immediately bottoms out and I glance up at Sin. That’s about the last thing I expected him to ask seconds after coming down my throat. I can still taste him on my tongue, and now Rafe’s heinous words from the restaurant float back to me.
It does bother him. There’s no other reason he would be thinking about this right now. Now he’s making me think about it. I feel unimaginably slutty curled up next to Sin, still tasting him, while having flashes of Rafe in my memory. It wasn’t even that long ago. How did I go from two partners—both firmly inside relationships—in my whole life, to sucking off two men I had known for only days? One whose position in the criminal underworld was unclear to me, and one whose name I don’t even actually know.
My hands automatically go to my face so I can hide from the world.
“No,” Sin says, his fingers curling around my wrist and prying my hands off my face.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Leave me alone, I’m in my shame corner.”
“I was not shaming you,” he states. “I was just asking a question.”
“Four. I went down on him four times. I’m a whorebag.”
His tone is dismissive as he drags me back into his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I swear, I’m not usually like this. Before Easter, I’d only been with two guys ever. Both boyfriends, both serious, committed relationships.”
“Yeah, the little shits who couldn’t get you off. Rafe told me about them. I’m not impressed.”
My eyes widen. “He told you that? What, do you guys share information about the girls you both fuck?”
“We do not make a habit of fucking the same girls. You’d be the first as far as I know, but I have not fucked you.” Grabbing hold of my chin, he tips it up and makes me look at him. “And hey, only two more to go and you’ll be caught up. We can knock that out in no time.”
It’s hard to feel bad when he makes me look into those beautiful brown eyes of his. God, he has good eyes. And a good face. And a great body. And a great cock. I’m pretty much impressed with the whole Sin package.
“What is your first name?” I ask him, more calmly this time.
“I don’t want you to call me by any other name,” he tells me, his thumb tenderly brushing my jawline as if to drain any potential sting out of his words. “I like Sin.”
“I won’t call you by it; I just want to know what it is. Please?”
He sighs like I’m annoying him, but nonetheless answers, “It’s Christian.”
I brighten. “Christian Sinclair?”
Nodding once, he says, “Don’t call me that, though. I don’t like it.”
I smile, resting my head on his chest and gazing up at him. “I won’t. I just wanted to know. I like calling you Sin, too.”
“My mom’s name is Christina. She more or less named me after herself, just took the more biblical approach.”
“Does your mom know what you do for a living?” I inquire.
Sin shakes his head no, absently running his fingers up and down my upper arm. “Nah. She knows I do some underhanded stuff, but she thinks I’m a bookie. Just ruining lives, never taking them. Helps her sleep a little better at night, I guess.”
I like that he’s offering up information instead of making me drag it out of him, so I keep going. “Does she live around here? What about your dad, are they still together?”
“Yep. They live in Sacramento. She’s an elementary school teacher, he owns a tire shop.”
“Your mom is a teacher? I want to be a teacher. College, not elementary, but… still kinda cool. Do you ever go visit them?”
Frowning slightly, he shakes his head. “Not really. Not in a long time.”
“How long since you last saw them?”
He doesn’t have to think about it. “Four years in August.”
My eyes widen. “Four whole years? Wow, you must think I’m a real baby whining because I wouldn’t get to see Carly often. I would definitely see her every few months, even in the worst case scenario. Do you have any siblings?”