She didn’t react.
Because she was sleeping.
I yanked myself away from her pussy, alarmed at myself. What was I doing? I was no better than Jennifer?—
Stop with that. I gritted my teeth and unzipped her jacket to make her more comfortable.
She wasn’t wearing anything underneath other than a bra. I removed the sleeve and found a piece of cotton wrapped around her bicep . . . and blood?
Carefully, I unwound it.
My tongue stuck to the top of my mouth. Her raw flesh was easy to see through the cut. The slice had been deep.
Fuck, she was bleeding, and here I was, feasting on her. I pressed the fabric on her arm, holding it to staunch the bleeding.
I ripped my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Elias, since he tended to answer without fail.
“What?” he growled.
“She passed out.”
The line went dead, and I tossed my phone onto the ground. I was already tugging the other sleeve of the jacket.
I smoothedmy palm down her arm, and just as quickly, removed it, leaning back in the chair I’d dragged closer to the couch. Instinct drove me to touch her, and I let myself have the brief pleasure of giving in. Sinclair had already cleaned the cut and threaded the split sides of her flesh together.
Sinclair was checking her vitals while I fought not to touch and caress. I was so close to sliding my cock inside her.
And if I fucked her, what if I couldn’t stop wanting to keep her?
Exhaling, I pulled away, setting my tingling palm on my thigh. Her sweet cookie scent played along my senses, making me hard as a rock. I adjusted myself, clearing my throat.
Sinclair snorted.
“Stiffy, eh?” It wasn’t a question.
I raised an eyebrow, pointedly focusing on the bulge under his zipper. His smile only widened, and he tugged the blanket I’d covered her with until her chest was bare, displaying half her body.
I’d seen countless breasts, different shapes, sizes, everything out there . . . Before the place was big enough, I was tasked with selecting women to work for The Bordello. Beauty was meaningless to me, something fleeting. Objectively, Briar Rivera had features too angular to quantify as a great beauty in this day and age, yet she pulled me in. All her features put together created a striking visual, beautiful in its sharpness.
“You’re going to start drooling.”
“Fuck off.” I shoved Sinclair’s shoulder, and his cackle only pissed me off more. As much as he was making fun of me, he kept touching her, too. A little graze of her arm, or her cheek—he was straight-up fiddling, and Sinclair wasn’t someone who shifted around that way.
He had just as severe a reaction as I did.
“She’s a beauty,” Sinclair mused, running his fingertips down the side of her neck where her Scent Gland was. Her pheromones were especially potent there. I would have claimed her there if?—
There was no point in thinking about it.
Sinclair stopped shy of the swell of her breast. His breathing had increased a notch, or was it mine? I found myself leaning forward—anticipating.
He trailed his fingertips up to her pebbled nipple, leaving goose bumps behind.
“You want a taste?” Sinclair’s husky tone seethed with his intention. He leaned down, nestling his nose against her Scent Gland, and drew in a breath. I sat frozen while he grazed the spot with his teeth. Teasing fate, as always.
“Sin,” I snapped.
He groaned.
