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Pretending not to care, Breanna cut into her pancake.
Sinjin snickered under his breath.
And with a shake of her salt-and-pepper bob, Francie went out the door.
Wait a gosh darn minute… “Francie’s your aunt?”
“She’s my mother’s younger sister,” he answered, going back to his phone. “What’s in the box?”
None of your fucking business. “Stuff.”
A boom crashed from outside. It sounded like an avalanche. Not that she’d ever heard one before. “What the hell was that?”
“Snow.”
“But it’s not snowing.” Confused by his answer, Breanna cocked her head, her brows pulling together.
“From the roof,” he explained. “It’s copper—standing metal. That way, the snow slides off.”
“Oh, I see.” Not really.
“Now, what’s in the box?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“When it comes to you, princess…” Taking her package, Sinjin strolled toward the door. “…everything concerns me.”
“Hey, that’s mine,” she called out, chasing after him up the stairs. “Stop being a dick.”
Ignoring her, he punched the code into her door and went inside.
Asshole.
Sinjin stood in the middle of her living room, balancing the package on his shoulder. “You want it? Come get it.”
“Give me.” Breanna swatted at the box, her efforts fruitless.
Amused, he swiped his tongue across his lip and grinned. “So, I’m a dick, huh?”
“Yup, sure are.”
“Yeah, well, you would know.” Tossing the box to the sofa, his arm curled around her waist, and dragging her to his chest, he slammed his mouth into hers.
Shivers—the good kind—tickled their way up her spine. Pancakes and coffee and warm maple syrup. With just one taste of his wicked skillful tongue, Breanna forgot she was mad at him. Fingers threaded in her hair, Sinjin held her lips to his, cradling her head in his hands. Consuming and possessive, the intensity of his kiss addled her brain. She couldn’t think, and with all reason gone, she gave in.
Hands skimmed down her back, his electrifying touch leaving a trail of tingles on her skin. Softly groaning, he sucked at her bottom lip, pulling it with his teeth, while pressing his hardness against her belly.
Yesss. A whimper of sound escaped her.
Would he fuck her now? Tear the clothes from her body and consumed with want, lay her down right here on the floor? God, please. Because she was dying. Breanna couldn’t breathe, and she ached, her need for this man burning her alive.
But he didn’t.
With a brush of his lips, Sinjin pulled away. Whiskey eyes gazing into hers, he combed his fingers through her hair.
Breanna shook her head and sighed. Rubbing her lips together, she went to the sofa, her fingertips tracing the mailing label on Kayleigh’s package.
Sinjin planted his hands on her shoulders. “What’s in the box?”
