Page 18 of Royal Sin

“Sorry for bothering you,” I said, tugging on the door handle. But his weight kept it from budging.

He ran a hand through his dark hair. “For heaven’s sake, woman, you never answered my texts, and you just show up here—how long were you waiting?”

I wrapped my arms across myself. “Not long.”

Leonard leaned down. “Anna….”

My gaze slid from his. It was too intense, too full of—

There was a dark rust stain on his neck. It was the wrong shade to be motor oil. I glanced at his jeans. Those were more visible now, and definitely not from his bike. Something darker, more concerning.

“Come upstairs, you’re freezing,” he chided, voice dropping to a more gentle tone.

Before I could protest, he slid his hand in mine and gave me a tug. I dogged after him, sneaking glances at the substance on his skin.

“What happened?” he demanded, pushing the button for the elevator to take us to the covered walkway that led into the apartment complex.

Gathering my bravado around myself like a shield, I said flippantly, “What makes you think something happened?”

“You showed up at my apartment with tears in your eyes.”

A loud cry of protest erupted from me. “I wasnotcrying!”

“I said in your eyes, not on your cheeks, little author.” Leonard put his hand on the opening door to hold it for me. “You don’t have to tell me your troubles, Anna. But if it helps, I’ll listen.”

The time it took to reach his two-floor apartment suite was spent thinking. If this was a real relationship, I would confide in him. But try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to cross that line. All I knew was that one wrong move, and this thing with him would be done too.

And why the thought of something that hadn’t lasted a fraction of what I had with my oldest friend breaking apart hurt just as bad was not something I wanted to address.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll go wash up and join you for that nightcap. And if you want to tell me, you can.” Leonard squeezed my fingers before going to the interior stairs and climbing to what I assumed was the master bedroom.

I walked to the bar cart in the chic living room and poured two glasses of expensive-looking scotch. This was a bad idea. But I carried them upstairs as a talisman against whatever bad feeling lurked in the corner of my mind.

Letting myself into his bedroom, I stopped short, my breath catching at the sight of him standing in the bathroom across the space. Water cascaded down his powerful back as he leaned over the sink, muscles shifting beneath smooth skin. The intimacy of the moment struck me—I wasn't supposed to be here, witnessing this private ritual. The sight of Leonard, nearly naked and vulnerable, brought out an undeniable hunger. Water drippeddown his sculpted back as he scrubbed vigorously at his hands. I should have turned away, given him privacy, but I remained frozen, two glasses of scotch clutched in my hands.

I wanted him.

He glanced up, catching my reflection in the mirror. Our eyes locked for a moment before he reached for a towel.

“I should have knocked,” I said, my voice barely audible over the running water.

Leonard dried his hands methodically, each movement deliberate. “It’s fine.” He turned to face me, making no move to cover himself further. “Is one of those for me?”

I nodded, extending a glass toward him. As he approached, I noticed faint bruising along his ribs and a small cut above his eyebrow I hadn’t seen before.

“What happened to you?” I breathed.

He shook his head. “We’re not talking about me.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about me either,” I asserted, holding out the scotch. “I just want to feel.”

Leonard prowled closer. He took the glass without breaking eye contact. “Salud.”

“Cheers.” I downed the liquid. Fire clawed down my throat, but I refused to cough.

An impressed look flashed through his black eyes.

Seizing the moment, I stepped into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He bent over me, mouth coming down to claim my kiss.

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