Page 85 of Second Sin

From across the room, Sebastian meets my eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth—unapologetic, boyish, a little too pleased with himself. It should infuriate me. Should make me want to scold him, snap a reminder about boundaries and professionalism and how goddamn hard I’m trying to stay above all of this.

But I can’t even be mad at him.

Not when I see it—the lightness in his eyes. The kind that used to be so rare I wondered if I imagined it the first time. It’s there now. Clear. Real. Something open and soft beneath all that hard-earned edge.

I shake my head, try not to smile back. But inside, I’m already gone—melting under the weight of that one look, that one message, that one impossible, irreparable feeling that’s taken root inside me.

I turn away before I forget where I am.

But the smile lingers, no matter how hard I fight it.

CHAPTER 33

SEBASTIAN

“Okay,” Olivia says, eyeing the bags of groceries I had delivered like they might bite her. “So what did you actually buy?”

“Don’t look so suspicious.”

“I said‘whatever’s easy,’not the entire produce section,” she chuckles, pulling out handfuls of tomatoes like she’s fishing for contraband.

“Pasta felt safe. Googled it, ordered whatever didn’t look like it’d kill us.”

She snorts, tugging an onion from the bag like it personally offends her. “You ordered shallots?”

“Seemed fancy. Thought I’d get bonus points.”

She shoots me a look over her shoulder, hair falling loose near her cheek. Her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile. I catch myself staring—at the curve of her jaw, the way her sleeves are shoved to her elbows, how she moves like she belongs in this space already.

She pulls something else from the bag and holds it up like evidence.“Do you even know what this is?"

It’s green. Spiky. Swirled like some kind of cursed broccoli-pinecone hybrid.

“No fucking clue,” I mutter. “Probably clicked it by accident while trying not to think about how much I want to kiss you.”

Her laugh catches me off guard.

Hits low. Sharp. Like my body remembers a kind of joy my head still doesn’t trust.

“Is it even edible?”

I scroll through my order. “Romanesco,” I mutter. “Which is either a vegetable or a villain from a Bond movie.”

She laughs again—quieter this time—and I let myself watch her. Just for a second. The slope of her neck. The freckles along her collarbone. The way she lifts one brow like she knows she’s got me a little off-balance and she’s not even sorry.

“Must’ve clicked it by mistake.”

She sets the alien vegetable on the counter with dramatic caution. “Do we cook it? Sacrifice something to it? Or just set it on the counter and hope it doesn’t hatch?”

I curl an arm around her waist and tug her in—slow, deliberate. She doesn’t resist. Just tips her chin up like she’s been waiting for this all night.

She smirks up at me, but there’s color in her cheeks now. “Next time, just buy jarred sauce.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

I brush my lips against hers.Nothing rushed. Just the kind that says I’d rather be here than anywhere else.

When I pull back, I don’t let go.

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