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She bites her bottom lip for a second, then exhales. “Hi. Good catch with the champagne.”
“You gotta be careful with these guys.” My voice sounds thick. I mean myself. She needs to be careful with me.
I got myself off twice this morning looking at blurry reflections of fingers.
Alone with the most off-limits woman in my life? I could do much, much worse.
“Don’t worry, I’m not sticking around.” She sucks in a quick breath. “That was a beautiful hit, by the way. You waited for the right pitch. Your instincts are perfect.”
“Not really,” I grind out. When it comes to her, my instincts are one hundred percent wrong. “Now get going, birthday girl.”
She steps closer and lifts her chin. “You know it’s my birthday?”
I swallow hard. “Of course. You’re twenty-five today.” I go for a smirk, although I don’t know if I achieve it. “Do anything special?”
As far as jokes go, it’s not great, but I expect a laugh.
Instead, her gaze shifts, turns…something. Something I can’t read, something that’s in conflict with everything I know about this girl. Woman.
Leave her alone.
But I can’t.
Because I can’t resist her when we’re this close in proximity, and I want to see more of her face in this blink-and-miss-it moment, I tug her hat off her head. Her eyes widen in surprise as her blonde hair spills loose around her shoulder.
I hand her the hat, my heart pounding in my chest. “Thought you were leaving, little one.”
“I want a present first.”
Anything.
But fuck, no, I can’t say that, because in my darkest fantasies, she asks for a kiss next, and I can’t give her that.
So I don’t say anything, and she pushes on. It’s not a kiss that she asks for, to my shameful disappointment.
“I will just as soon as you take credit for winning the World Series,” she shoots back.
My eyebrows storm up.
She gives me a look so intensely serious it feels like she’s reached up, wrapped her hand around my windpipe, and squeezed. “I watched history happen, Patrick. You were incredible.”
Patrick.
“I did my part,” I say gruffly.
“Repeat after me,” she says slowly, her eyes glittering. “I have perfect instincts.”
I laugh and jerk my head back. “Go back to the hotel, Sinclaire. Before things get messy in there.”
She shoves her hat back on her head, then pushes at my chest, which doesn’t move me at all. “Argh, you’re so frustrating, Trick.”
I catch her hands and pry them off my body, every nerve firing under my skin, howling in protest at the loss of her touch. Her wrists feel so fucking good manacled in my fingers. “That makes two of us.”
“How am I frustrating?” The words slide out of her on a breathy little whisper, and they’re followed by a thud, because I’ve backed her up against the concrete block wall.
Now we’re protected from the crowd.
But who’s going to protect Sin from me?
