I leaned forward, burying my face in my hands, and let out a sharp, bitter exhale. My skin still buzzed with the ghost of Sin’s touch. My mouth still burned from the almost kiss. And yet, if he were here now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from doing it.
What the hell was I doing even thinking about him? It wasn’t like I had anything to offer him.
He deserved better than this—than me. He wasn’t some plaything I could pull close and push away when it got too real. He wasn’t a secret I could keep buried. He was fire and hunger and freedom. Chaos. And I was the idiot standing too close with a gas can.
I sat back and stared at the ceiling. I was going to break something. Maybe myself. Maybe him. Maybe both. And yet…I couldn’t stop wanting him.
I didn’t know how.
“Screw this,” I muttered, shoving my laptop shut with more force than necessary. I had no answers, no clarity. Just the same storm twisting tighter inside my chest. I snatched my keys from the top drawer of my desk and walked out before I could stop myself.
The club was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against your skin. Only the low hum of refrigeration units and the faint flicker of exit signs remained to remind me I wasn’t the last person left in the world. But itfeltlike it.
Like always, this place was polished, controlled—like me.
Only I wasn’t in control anymore.
Not since him.
The night air slapped me in the face as I stepped into the parking lot, cold enough to bite but not enough to shake the heat simmering under my skin. I slid into my BMW and let the engine growl to life, headlights slicing through the darkness, catching brief glimpses of a world too calm for how unsettled I felt.
I didn’t have a destination. I just drove. Until instinct took the wheel.Sinclair,my mind whispered.I told myself it was to make sure he got home safe. That it was my responsibility. That no one else would be looking out for him tonight. But those were lies. Convenient ones.
The truth? I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not after what happened at the club. Not after the way he looked at me before I sent him away.
The headlights caught him first—alone on the side of the road, head down, arms crossed tight like he was keeping himself from falling apart. Wind tugged at his curls. His silhouette looked fragile and furious all at once.
I almost didn’t stop. I almost kept driving, told myself it wasn’t my problem. But I wasn’t that kind of monster. Not with him.
My car rolled to a stop beside him, and I lowered the window. “Sinclair.”
He turned slowly, eyes glassy, a flush high on his cheekbones. He smirked, all teeth and bruised ego. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Iceman himself.”
“Get in the car.”
“Bossy,” he slurred, but he opened the door and dropped into the passenger seat like he belonged there. Like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
He smelled like smoke, liquor, and something darker—trouble wrapped in temptation.
And God help me, it smelled incredible on him.
After checking my mirrors and buying some time, willing my racing heart to calm down, I pulled back onto the road, focusing on the center lines like they could keep me from veering into disaster.
We didn’t speak for a while. I counted the seconds to distract myself from the heat radiating off him.
“You always rescue your staff like this?” he asked, voice a little slurred, a little too sharp.
“Only the ones who insist on walking home drunk in the early hours of the morning.”
“Chivalrousandjudgmental. A man of contradictions.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t afford to. Words turned to ash on the tip of my tongue as dreams leaked from the vault in my mind. Dreams that could never come true.
He turned in his seat, folding one leg beneath him like he didn’t give a damn about decorum. “You keep acting like you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I answered, too fast.
“But youlookat me like I’m something you’re trying to resist.” He leaned in closer. “Like if you let yourself want me, everything would fall apart.”
