My breath catches.
“It means something to me,” he says, voice low and rough. “This. You. What I feel when you’re near.”
My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
Sin steps closer, slow, like he’s giving me every chance to change my mind.
His hand slides to my waist, then stops there, like he’s testing his own control.
“You sure?” he asks again, voice low. “Tell me you’re sure.”
I tip my chin up. “I’m sure.”
His eyes darken. He swallows once, and it looks like it hurts.
Then he guides me to the couch.
It’s worn, dark leather, the kind that creaks when you move. The kind that holds the shape of a man’s life.
I sink down, and Sin follows, sitting close enough that our thighs almost touch, then stopping like he can’t let himself close that last inch without permission.
I turn toward him. “Sin.”
His gaze locks on mine. “Yeah.”
I reach for him first. My fingers slide into his cut, curling over the patch like it’s an anchor. Like it’s proof he’s real, and this is real, and I’m here.
His breath goes rough.
“Ruby,” he warns, and it’s the softest warning in the world.
I lean in anyway.
This kiss is slower. Deeper. Less like fire and more like sinking.
His hand cups the back of my head, gentle and guiding, and then he pulls away just enough to look at me again.
“Say it,” he murmurs. “Say you want this.”
My lips are swollen. My cheeks are hot. My voice comes out honest.
“I want you,” I whisper. “I want you to be my first.”
Sin closes his eyes for a second like he’s bracing for impact.
When he opens them, he looks at me like I’m the only thing in this world.
He kisses me again, and his other hand slides down my arm to my wrist, lacing our fingers together, holding me like I’m something precious.
I melt into him, breath hitching, and the world narrows to the couch, his mouth, and the steady way he keeps stopping to make sure I’m still choosing.
When he finally breaks the kiss, his forehead presses to mine.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice ragged.
I shake my head, barely.
Sin’s mouth brushes my cheek, then my jaw, pausing near my ear.
