The Affair (The Evolution of Sin 1)

They must have really hurt the creep if they were talking so seriously about the consequences. I shivered and rubbed my bare legs together.

“I honestly have no idea.” He thrust both hands into his hair and tugged harshly. “How did I get myself into this fucking situation?”

“Do you really want me to answer that? Because I’ve been wanting to say some things for a while now.”

“Since when have you censored yourself?”

“Fair point.” Cage nodded. “D’accord. I think you’re in a relationship for the wrong reasons. Yeah, she’s smart and beautiful and your parents love her and you guys get along well, but that’s not what love is.”

“And you would know?” Sinclair barked but immediately, he shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Mon ami, I’m not exactly a relationship guru but I’ve known you for years and

no matter what you try to tell yourself, you can’t control everything. Hell, you shouldn’t be able to. You and Elle…” He shook his head and I sucked in a deep breath. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you cut loose like this. She’s good for you.”

“She can’t be.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t know anything about her.” He stood up in an explosion of movement and began to pace back and forth. “Where she lives, who her family is… nothing. And she sure as hell doesn’t know anything about me. If she did…” He shook his head as his voice petered off.

“If she did, she would be just as into you,” Cage asserted. “She’s a strong girl, Sin. Look at how she reacted tonight. She gave that guy exactly what he deserved and didn’t even break down.”

This seemed to take the wind out of Sinclair’s sails. He sat down with a ragged sigh. “She’s too good for me.”

“Probably,” Cage agreed easily. “But any girl worth being with always is.”

They were silent for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. I stood against the wall just inside the bedroom and struggled to unravel the thread of my thoughts. Did Sinclair feel even half as much as I did for him?

“She scares the fuck out of me,” Sinclair muttered. I had never heard him swear so much.

“You’ve never been one to back away from fear.”

“I knew the minute I saw her she would do this,” he said, and I felt a pang in my chest for causing him so much undue pain. No matter what he felt, I knew I would be getting on the plane alone tomorrow.

“I’ll leave you with her.” Cage unwound his large body from the couch, flipping his long braid over his shoulder as he did so. He clapped Sinclair on the back and brought him close, touching their foreheads together for one long minute. I held my breath at their intimacy. Who was Cage Tracy, lead singer of France’s hottest band, to be so close to Sinclair, a man whose icy barriers seemed nearly impenetrable?

When they broke apart, Sinclair was calmer, his shoulders relaxed. He stood in the middle of the living for a few minutes after Cage left, tugging a hand through his tousled dark red locks until they were in utter disarray. I longed to go out to him, wrap my arms around his trim waist, press my breasts to his naked back and slide my hands over the moguls of muscle crossing his stomach.

But the truth was, I had no place in his world. It was just as it had been all my life. I was a meteor in a universe of floating stars as bright and beautiful as diamonds, secure in their function and place while I zoomed by.

A noise from the living room alerted me to Sinclair’s movements towards the bedroom so I scrambled back into bed and tried to breath calmly through my clattering heart. I knew I had to talk to him even though I had no idea what I would say but I kept my eyes closed when he came into the bedroom and paused just beside the bed, looking down on me.

His fingers brushed a few stray hairs away from my face and lingered against my parted lips. I wondered if he knew I was faking sleep but I kept my breathing even just in case and a minute later, he turned, padding softly into the bathroom. The light spilled into the room from the open door and I opened my eyes as I listened for the sound of his movements. When I heard nothing, I got up to investigate.

He stood with his arms braced on the sink, his chest bare and his head dipped so that long strands of glossy mahogany hair obscured his face. I hovered in the door for a moment until I was sure he could sense me by the slight shiver that rippled through his stiff shoulders. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side to look at me. When our eyes met, I gasped. I felt our connection painfully as if an anchor had rooted its sharp, sure hooks deep in my heart linking our two souls with thick, unyielding chain. It was not a delicate hold or a whimsical emotion. Love gripped me tightly, wrung me out until I wasn’t sure I breathed.

Sinclair’s eyes were large but his expression was guarded as I took the few steps necessary to reach him, to bring my hand to his face and trace the sharp angle of his cheekbone. After a second, he let out a short, sharp breath and turned his head to press a kiss into my palm. The gesture almost undid my fragile state, unzipping what would surely be a sloppy mess of emotions but the sight of his raw, bleeding knuckles distracted me.

I tsk-ed as I took one of his strong fingered hands in my own and turned on the tap to wet a washcloth resting on the marble counter. He watched me carefully as I gently pressed the hot cloth to his scrapes.

“No chastisement?” he asked.

“Disappointed?”

“No, surprised. I assumed you would be a pacifist.”

My eyebrows rose and I purposefully placed my tongue between my teeth after reminding him, “I bit the bastard’s tongue.”