The Sinner (The St. Clair Brothers 1)

The question went over like a high stick to the head. Kylie's frown deepened, and I watched those thick walls of hers crash down. Anxiety crept back in as I waited to see what she did. Eventually, Kylie shrugged.

"I don't know anyone. My boss gave them to me."

I squinted and tried to decide if she was being honest, and if not, what reason she had to lie about it. I didn’t accuse her of being untruthful. I know I’m an insensitive jackhole, but even I wouldn't do that.

“Well, who's your boss? Maybe I know him or her."

The words no sooner passed my lips and Kylie was shaking her head. "You don’t.” She pushed back the stool. I cringed as the metal feet scraped against the floor. Kylie stood and carried her dish to the sink. "I should get going."

Years of practice schooling my expression were the only reason I kept my distress from showing.

What. The actual. Fuck.

I was positive she was hiding something and, goddammit, I wanted to know why.

Doing my best to squelch the rising panic and failing, I darted around the island and toward the sink, which was wedged in a far corner of the kitchen. Kylie was busy freaking out about whatever shit she felt she needed to keep from me and didn't see me coming until I was practically on top of her. When Kylie turned around, I darted in and pinned her against the sink with my hips, then braced my hands on the countertop on either side of her body, effectively caging her in. Kylie’s face crumpled. She looked like she was on the verge of a meltdown.

Could whatever Kylie didn't want me to know really be that bad?

I had a difficult time imagining what she could possibly say that would scare me off. To be honest, the fact that she couldn't scare me off should be precisely what did scare me off.

After the intense moments we shared, staring into each other's eyes, watching our emotional bond deepen as we soared toward ecstasy—Me! Fucking emotional bonds!—I should be the one melting down. Not Kylie. I should be the one to send her on her merry way, not the other way around. I’m the guy who hides things, who doesn’t discuss his personal life, who remains emotionally out of reach.

The role reversal didn’t sit well with me. I fucking hated how it made me feel, and then I despised the fact that I was feeling anything at all.

"You’re lying and I want to know why."

Okay, so maybe I am a big enough jackhole to accuse her of lying.

I shifted closer, using my size to intimidate her. Of course, I forgot who I was dealing with. Kylie never did what a normal person would do, and, as a result, she was completely baffling, which made me want her that much more. Kylie didn’t shrink or back down and tell me what I wanted to know. She didn’t get all teary on me, either.

Kylie, my little firecracker, crossed her arms and glared. It was so harsh, it would reduce most people to a weeping puddle on the hand-scraped hardwood floor. Her lips curled back and she just about snarled.

"I don't have to listen to your bullshit accusations, Seb. Get out of my way."

I had to hand it to her, Kylie was no shrinking violet. In fact, seeing her stand up to me was a huge fucking turn on. My idiot dick, which should be plenty satisfied, started to grow stiff. Fantasies of wrestling a furious Kylie into submission filled my head and it got even harder.

"I said move."

I blinked and gazed down. Even fuming mad Kylie was gorgeous, though I found her level of anger confusing. I didn’t ask anything that warranted that much hostility.

“Sacrement. Calmez vous belle.” I held my hands up to show I wasn’t a threat. Kylie’s forehead crinkled and I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Let’s try that again, in English.” I took a deep breath. “Calm down. You don’t need to be angry. All I want is to get to know you.”

Her chin quivered and regret flashed across her face.

“This?" Kylie’s voice cracked and she gestured between us. "Is just sex. I don't owe you anything and I refuse to stand here and be interrogated like a criminal.” She cleared her throat and spoke forcefully. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go."

Dumbfounded, and admittedly, more than a little hurt, I reeled as if she hauled off and slapped me. My retreat left just enough room for Kylie to slip by. I followed, but by the time I got with the program, Kylie had her coat on and her keys in her hand.

I was certain I wouldn’t survive another round of cut and run.

“S’il vous plâit, Kylie, don't do this." She hesitated, and my hopes went up, then her steely resolve returned, and crushed those hopes under her heel.

"I can't do this. I-I want to, Seb. I do. I-I just—”

I clung to her admission like a life preserver in a tumultuous sea. "You want to do what? Be here? Be with me? But you think you can’t? Why not? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'll understand."

She shook her head and mashed her lips. "You can’t, and you won’t. I'm sorry." Kylie looked at me. Her eyes were damp and glistening. "I-I'm really sorry."