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“But—” I start, until Margot presses a finger to my lips.
“No buts. My treat. We’re going shopping.”
And because she’s grinning at me with so much enthusiasm—and because it’s the first time I’ve ever really hung out with Marco’s sister one-on-one, and I want her to like me, I agree.
12
Ankor
Being away from Sinclair is torture. What makes it even worse is having about fifteen people text me links to my ex-girlfriend’s psychotic YouTube video. But Lily’s always been transparent like that. It’s clear what she hopes will happen. That Sinclair will freak out and break up with me, and I’ll pay Lily to tell Sinclair the truth.
It might have worked on a lesser woman. Or some of my own other exes, truth be told. But not on Sinclair.
Margot texted me to warn me that Sinclair had seen the video, but also to mention she didn’t buy it. I wasn’t surprised. I never thought she would. She’s too smart for that.
Still, between spending a full day of work away from her for the first time in weeks, and having this blow up in my face, it’s been a long day. The whole way back home, my mind is lost in thoughts of all the things I plan to do to Sinclair tonight, and of how fucking sexy she’ll look spread-eagled across our bed, naked and begging for me. I get hard just picturing those plump, perfect lips of hers wrapped around my cock, with her kneeling in front of me.
With thoughts like those on my mind, I’m already rock hard by the time the elevator reaches the penthouse. I step off it and call her name.
No Sinclair. But I do hear the sound of the water running in our bathroom. I follow it to the bedroom, where the door is cracked just a little. Through it, I can see steam rising from the shower. I also spot a few shopping bags, from what I recognize as Margot’s favorite store nearby. I have a feeling my sister took Sinclair out for a little retail therapy, after the whole video blow-up.
“Sinclair?” I call softly as I step into the bedroom.
“In here,” she calls from the bath. “You can come in.”
I don’t need a second invitation. I enter the tile bathroom and through the steam, I catch a glimpse of her just shutting off the shower and reaching for her towel.
I catch her wrist before she picks it up, and with a grin, pull her to me.
“I’ll get you all wet,” she protests, even as she presses her soaking wet, naked body against mine.
“I don’t care,” I murmur, leaning down at the same time that I tilt her chin up toward me. I catch her in a slow, searing kiss, parting her lips with my tongue, taking my time to taste her, savor her.
When we break apart, she’s breathless, her face redder than it was when she first finished her hot shower. My grin widens.
But something in her expression makes me hesitate. “Are you all right?” I murmur softly. “Margot told me you saw the video.”
“I stumbled across it when I was using your laptop.” She winces.
“Sinclair, I am so sorry—”
“For what?” she interrupts, surprising me. “You didn’t post that video. Or make your ex claim all kinds of weird things about you.”
“Still. You shouldn’t be put into this situation.”
“Neither should you.” She plants her hands on her hips. It’s impressive how, even naked, she can still look commanding. It’s also more than a little sexy.
“I’m glad it didn’t bother you. I was worried.” I reach out to trail a hand up her arm.
She shivers, and her anger melts into something softer, sweeter. Into the Sinclair she only lets me see. The sensitive one I love best. She meets my gaze a little slower, this time. “I mean… I was a little bit jealous.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Of what?”
“Come on, Lily is gorgeous. Not to mention internet famous or whatever. How can I compare? I’m just some regular girl.”
“Sinclair.” My voice goes low and dark and serious. “You do not believe that.”
“She is beautiful,” she replies.
“Maybe. But you?” I catch hold of her waist and, before she can react, swing her up into my arms. Sinclair squeals, and wraps her arms around my neck. I don’t give her time to adjust—I toss her right onto the bed, and lie across her, her soaking wet body pressed against the mattress as I slide down her, until I’m kneeling beside the bed at her feet. I catch one ankle and lean in. “You are perfect,” I tell her, my eyes locked on hers.
She’s holding her breath. But when I suck one of her toes into my mouth, she lets it out in a faint sigh.
“All the way from your toes,” I whisper, my breath hot against her skin. “To your perfect feet.” I lick my way along the arch of her foot. She stifles a giggle. I’m sure it tickles. But I just keep going. “And your perfect ankles.” I trail my tongue along the smooth, soft expanse of her skin, switching over to her other leg halfway along. “Up your perfect calves.”
