The Sinner (The St. Clair Brothers 1)

But I didn’t. I didn’t call or text him first, either, even though the topic would be better handled in private, with advance notice Seb’s place would have been marginally less idiotic, though I knew exactly what would happen the second the door closed behind us. We'd end up naked and sweaty and no words, other than “yes, oh god, more,” would be exchanged. As much as I wanted that—like really, really wanted that—it was time. Seb deserved to know about the baby and that Rocco, a man he despised like no other and vice versa, was my brother.

As I walked toward the couple, the person with Seb spoke, and froze. My feet turned into blocks of lead, too heavy to lift. I couldn't see who was with Seb, but her voice was unmistakably female. Shaking off the concrete shoes, I took a few more steps. I wanted to hear what they said.

Too little, too late.

As I inched within earshot, conversation wrapped up. I watched horrorstruck, as they slid their arms around each other and embraced. I gasped, the sudden pain in my heart so sharp I struggled to breathe. I knew I shouldn’t watch, yet continued to stare, in spite of the nightmares that would likely plague me for weeks on end. They interacted with a familiarity typically shared by lovers. Whoever she was, he knew her intimately.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around my waist, blinking back hot tears. I thought my situation couldn't get any worse, what with expecting an unplanned baby with a man my brother hoped would drop dead. Turns out I had no idea what I was talking about, because what happened next sliced me open from stem to stern. Seb reached out and the hands he used to worship my body cupped the woman's face. He leaned down and pressed his lips, which once mapped out every one of my erogenous zones, against the woman’s in a gentle kiss. Even in the darkness, I could see it was quick and perfunctory, like a kiss you gave a family member, but my battered heart felt the impact all the same.

The ground heaved beneath my feet and I held back a surge of nausea. I shouldn’t be here.

Humiliated, I backpedaled. Of course—because, why not?—I tripped over my feet and stumbled. Dan asked if I was okay. I ignored him. My mouth was so dry I couldn’t speak if I wanted to, which I didn’t. An enormous lump clogged my throat and the thick band around my chest pulled several notches tighter.

One careful step at a time, I backed up until I stood under one of the tall halogen lights. The sudden brightness dilated my eyes, ruining my night vision so I could no longer see the couple. A sob choked me, but I swallowed it back. I didn’t want to break down where Seb, and his lady friend, could witness my destruction. After two or three raspy inhales, I collected my proverbial shit and swiped at my damp cheeks, which proved futile. As quickly as I dashed the tears away, more sprung up to take their place. I heard Dan’s footsteps and, not wanting him to catch me crying lest he report was he saw back to Rocco, I spun and fled to the protective bubble of my car. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and my entire body started to tremble. Throw an unplanned pregnancy on top of the flaming heap, and my mental state went into a free-fall.

Between the shuddering, full-body sobs, and endless stream of tears, I have no idea how I managed to drive home without crashing. Engine off, I sat in my car and glanced at Rocco's empty spot. Prayer isn’t really my thing, but I closed my eyes sent up a quick thank you to whoever saw fit to give me a brief reprieve before I had to deal with Rocco, though he would be home any minute.

Listless and depressed, I didn’t want to move. Maybe if I cried hard enough, I’d pass out. Then when I woke the nightmare would end and my life would be normal again, sans unattainable men and the stupid desire for danger and cheap thrills. It was Rocco, and the thought of him finding his pregnant sister a snotty, weeping mess in her car, that got my ass moving. I dragged my carcass to the elevator, rode it to the correct floor, unlocked the deadbolt, trudged down the hall to my room, and shed my clothes, and it o

nly took seven minutes. I ended my unsuccessful excursion under my rainfall showerhead, hoping the loud pounding of water would drown out the pitiful cries that tore from my chest. I got three whole minutes of solitude before Rocco knocked on the bathroom door.

So much for taking a little time to process what happened.

“Kylie? I thought you said you weren’t going to be here when I got home.”

I did say that, because I thought I’d be with Seb.

Crap, crap, crap.

I rinsed the soap from my face before answering. “Plans fell through.” I cringed. My voice sounded like I gargled with straight up gravel. I closed my eyes and prayed for the second time that night.

Please don’t let Rocco have heard that.

“Okay.”

I tracked Rocco's heavy footfalls as they exited my bedroom. Once I was sure he was gone, I let out the breath I had been holding. What had my life had come to? Hiding in the shower for a few minutes of privacy? I needed to find my own apartment, because thought of Rocco hearing me sob sent a bolt of fear down my spine. Rocco hated to see me cry. It made him beyond upset and he always overreacted.

I wiped the water out of my eyes and glanced down at the small swell of my belly. No moving out for me any time soon. Not with a baby on the way and no one to help. That depressing little nugget brought on a fresh wave of despair. I wanted to hate Seb, but I couldn’t. Besides, I had no one to blame but myself. I accepted his invitation to meet in the hotel bar, knowing exactly who he was and his reputation with women. I chased the high of being with a man like Seb. The thrill that came from sneaking around behind Rocco’s back.

I was such a mess, I cried until my fingers pruned and thick steam filled the shower stall. Then I turned off the water and towel dried. I sighed. Rocco would be waiting for me. I pulled on some comfy sweats, braided my damp hair and let it hang down my back, and went looking for Rocco before he came looking for me. Easy enough. I opened the bathroom door to find him sitting on my bed, handsome face creased with stress, mouth distorted into a frown.

I took a deep breath and plastered on what had to be the fakest smile ever.

“Umm, hey.”

How lame. If Rocco didn't think something was wrong before, he definitely did after that.

Right on cue, Rocco’s dark brows knitted, and the familiar wrinkle above his nose made its first of what would likely be many appearances of the evening.

“Sit,” he demanded as he pointed at the bed. “We need to talk.”

“Can we maybe do this tomorrow?” I made my way into the walk-in closet. “I’m exhausted.”

After dumping my dirty clothes in the laundry basket, I whirled around, completely unprepared to find my brother practically up my ass. I ended up face to chest with a wall of muscle and squealed in surprise. Rocco stood just inside the closet, all huge and menacing with his big body towering over me and blocking the only exit.

Rocco’s harsh expression faltered and he deflated a bit. Then he let out a long sigh, one that made me want to roll my eyes so hard they’d get stuck up inside my head.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Tomorrow. But I mean it, Ky, no backing out.” Rocco thrust a finger at me. “Get some sleep and we’ll talk in the morning.”