Page 11 of Sin for You

They didn’t need me out here making them nervous. I headed back to my office where I could scowl in peace. I knew exactly why I was pissed off, and that just pissed me off more.

I shut the door behind me and sat at my desk.

“Shit.” I missed those smart-assed comments from Quinn.

And I hated that she was avoiding me.

That kiss. My gut gripped tight at the memory. Christ, I’d almost kissed her back. What the fuck was that? It had shocked the shit out of me, that split second when I’d tightened my hold on her, when I’d contemplated tugging her closer instead of pulling away.

When the urge to kiss her back almost won out.

God knew where it had come from. I didn’t have those kinds of feelings for her, never had. She was Mase’s kid sister, that was it. Maybe we’d grown a little closer lately, kind of like friends, I guess, or at least friendly.

And yeah, her lips had felt nice, and she’d smelled really good, and her body had been all warm and soft, and, fuck…curvy. But they could have been anyone’s lips. Her body could have been anyone’s and I would have reacted the same, right?

The problem was I hadn’t had a woman in a while, and when Quinn kissed me, I got confused, that’s all. That’s all it was.

I shot to my feet, shoved my fingers through my hair, and paced to the other side of the room. We needed to forget it happened, move on, get things back to the way they were. I fucking hated all this weirdness between us. Christ, I hadn’t been sleeping, and, yeah, my mood had been foul.

We needed to put this aside, forget all about it—so I could sleep, so she’d go back to her usual smart-assed self. Teasing and joking with me and being happy and shit.

And it was up to me to fix it.

* * *

Quinn

Bull had been in his office the whole night. He was avoiding me again. He’d been doing that all week. I guess I couldn’t blame him. I’d thrown myself at him. He was probably terrified I’d do it again. Force my unwelcome, obviously unpleasant lips on his and try to make him kiss me.

My face heated.

What the hell had I been thinking? Was I so messed up after my last shitty relationship that I’d confused concern and comfort with desire? No wonder I never saw the signs, subtle or not, that my relationships were about to fall apart. All four of them.

My first real boyfriend, Travis, the guy I’d let punch my V-card who I thought I was madly in love with, had dropped me home after prom and then slept with someone else. She’d told me the next day that I was dumped while he skulked in the distance, too afraid to tell me himself. The second betrayal was Patrick. We’d been dating eight months, he’d assured me we were exclusive, but when I arrived at his apartment early to surprise him, I found him kissing his other girlfriend goodbye at his door.

Then there was Ross. He was just the nicest guy—well, I thought so. We’d had so much in common and I really thought we had this amazing connection. I was falling for him, hard. We’d been dating six months when I found him in the parking lot of the bar I worked in, in his car, getting a blow job from another woman.

And the final kick in the guts, the one that hurt the most: walking in on Bevan, my fiancé of twelve months, having sex with another woman in our bed—our neighbor, a woman I’d spent time with, had gotten to know.

Obviously not as well as Bevan.

I just hadn’t been enough, for him, for any of them.

So yeah, the universe could stop throwing assholes at me now, thanks. I’d gotten the message loud and clear. Love wasn’t in the cards for me. Stop looking.

And now I’d scared away Bull as well.

I should have found another job as soon as it happened, and if I had experience doing anything else, I might have. Hell, maybe I should’ve just packed up and gone back to Portland.

But the idea of going back, of possibly bumping into Bevan, made me feel queasy.

A couple had just sat in my section, so I forced a smile, took their order, and headed for the bar. I glanced up and stumbled a little when I saw Bull standing there. We’d managed to avoid talking to each other for five days, mainly because Bull had stayed in his office during my shifts, but it looked like my luck had run out.

Plastering a smile on my face that probably looked fake as hell but was all I could muster right then, and ignoring the humiliation burning my cheeks and the butterflies flapping like hell in my belly, I put my tray on the bar and rested my elbows on the wooden surface. “Hey, Bull.”

His brown-eyed gaze hit mine, and my belly did this involuntary swooping thing that just made me blush harder.

His brows lowered. “How you doin’?” he said, all deep and rumbly.