“I admire that, I really do.”
“But?”
He glances at me. “No buts, Sinclair. You’re doing something great.”
“But you think I could use my name to help give it more publicity? To raise more money and awareness.”
“I didn’t say that.”
I reach up and run the backs of my fingers over his cheekbone and down the planes of his handsome face.
“You didn’t have to. You’re right. I’m just… not ready yet.”
He turns and catches my fingertips with his lips, kissing them. It’s the first bit of real contact I’ve had with him since we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and drove into Manhattan, and my pathetic heart soars at the momentary flash of warmth against my skin before it’s gone.
“We’re here,” he says, taking his hand from my thigh. “Time to get back to work, Princess.”
31
DENVER
I crackmy knuckles as the make-up artist runs a fingertip over the exposed skin on Sinclair’s ass cheek in the lingerie she’s wearing.
“You get in a fight with a wild cat or something, darling?”
Sinclair turns her head to look down at him. “What do you mean?”
“Your ass. It’s covered in little scratches.”
Guilt weaves itself around my throat. The tree. I fucked her against a tree, and I hurt her.
I scrub a hand around my jaw, cursing myself as Sinclair’s eyes meet mine.
“I’m fine. I didn’t even know they were there,” she says to the make-up artist. I know her words are meant for me. To reassure me. But they do nothing to quell the rising tide of nausea I have from my gut from knowing I’ve left marks on her body.
“Okay, well, now they’re gone.” The make-up artist stands with a grin, holding a brush and sponge in his hand as he assesses his work. “Beautiful, you’re all set.”
“Thanks.” Sinclair smiles at him before walking over to where I’m sitting on a bench along one wall.
“Are you going to sit there looking sulky the whole show, Brute?”
I look at her face, all golden and dewy with the make-up. They’ve styled her hair up into a high ponytail with a pink ribbon to match the baby pink bustier and panties she’s modeling. My eyes slide over the low waistband of the silk panties. She hooks a finger underneath my chin and lifts my eyes to her face.
“Thought you don’t look when you’re working?”
“I didn’t.” I hold her eyes. “But it’s kind of hard not to now.”
“Now what?” She hitches a brow with a teasing smile. I know she loves to play with me, and damn, I can’t help but let her, because hearing the fun flirty tone in her voice, and seeing the way her eyes light up with joy does something to me.
I love to see something other than pain in her eyes.
“Now that you’re my girl,” I rasp.
She purses her pink, glossy lips, her eyes bright. “You calling me your girl,Denny?”
“I’m calling you my girl, Princess.”
The smile that lights up her face is enough to make my heart swell.
