Page 24 of Sin

“Looks like Kaleigh needs to learn the rules of consent.”

“I jumped back trying to get away from her and hit into the beer pong table.”

I laugh. He gives me an indignant look.

“It’s not funny. Beer went everywhere. Everyone laughed, and I hurt her feelings.” He looks down. “She was a nice girl. I just couldn’t like her the way she wanted me to.”

I put my index finger under his chin and raise his face so he meets my gaze. “That’s not on you. You like who you like. Fuck everybody else.”

He nods his head in understanding.

“Who else?” I ask because I’m self-destructive like that.

He swallows and looks down at his hands, and when he looks up there’s embarrassment shading his beautiful eyes. “There was nobody else,” he says softly.

“You’ve never kissed anyone but the pushy Kaleigh?”

“No,” he says on a sigh, his untouched lips trembling at the admission.

Relief rushes through me. I have no right to it. I should be ashamed of it, but instead I rejoice that that innocent face of his and the blushes he so easily gives me whenever I get close aren’t just illusions of innocence. That his lips are untouched by real passion. Almost as if they’ve been waiting—waiting for me.

I reach out to trace them. At my touch, he lets out a gasp and his lips purse in an unintentional pucker.

“Sin,” Cassidy says my name. I think it’s a plea, but it comes out more like a prayer.

I continue to explore his lips, each swipe of my thumb becoming harder, more aggressive. “You’re so good. So perfect, I never know if I should protect that goodness, or?—”

“Or what?” he croaks out.

My gaze drops to his lips. “Be the man to ruin it.”

Chapter 12

Cassidy

The last week of rain has finally stopped, and everything is bright and green. Squirrels are scampering across the campus lawns, and bird calls fill the air, but as I walk toward the commons, it’s all wasted on me as I replay last week’s almost-kiss with Sin.

“You’ve never been kissed by anyone but the pushy Kaleigh?” Sin asks, his gaze boring into me, demanding I tell him the truth.

“No,” I admit, embarrassment flooding through me. He must think I’m pathetic. Almost eighteen and never been kissed.

He just stares at me. At first, I worry it’s pity in his gaze, but the slow, sensual way his eyes slide over me seems almost like fascination.

Slowly, he reaches out to trace my lips. I let out a gasp at the rough scrape of his thumb against my lips.

“Sin,” I say his name, pleading for more, which he gives me with the rougher swipe of his thumb over my mouth. The possessiveness of it thrills me.

“You’re so good. So perfect, I never know if I should protect that goodness, or?—”

“Or what?” I ask.

His gaze drops to my lips. “Be the man to ruin it.”

I tilt my head backward, offering myself. He slowly leans toward me, his eyes intense as he gently kisses me. It may be a simple brush of lips against each other, but it’s everything. It’s fireworks. It’s flags waving. It’s the crescendo crash of symbols at the end of an overture. I’m so glad I waited for Sin to give me this experience. I know it wouldn’t have been this momentous with anyone else.

I close my eyes and wait for the feel of the next touch of his lips.

A second passes, and then another one. I open my eyes, and Sin is no longer in front of me. The library door opens. I turn just in time to see him fleeing from the room.

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