Page 28 of Sin for You

Nope, wasn’t happening.

Jerking off would solve the problem, but there was no way I was doing that in Quinn’s house with her just upstairs after dreaming about eating her pussy.

I cursed when my dick jerked, impossibly getting harder.

Shit. I folded my hard cock up so it was against my stomach and pulled up my boxer briefs, wincing when I zipped my jeans closed. Thankfully, my shirt was long enough to cover the head of my dick—fat and purple and looking as pissed off as I felt—poking out above the waistband.

I washed my hands and went back out, quickly pulling on my jacket and zipping it up for extra coverage. I was folding up the comforter when Quinn jogged down the stairs, looking all fresh and bright-eyed, more rested than I’d seen her in a long time, dark hair down and wild.

She was wearing a T-shirt but it had the shoulders cut out, showing a good amount of her olive skin. “Morning,” she said. “You sleep okay? I was worried you’d be uncomfortable.” She motioned to the couch. “It’s not really Bull sized. Coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, trying to act like a reasonable, coherent fucking human being. You know, saying actual words.

She headed down the hall, and that’s when I saw the back of her jeans. There were roses stitched on the back pockets and they brought the eye right there, down to her pert little round ass. Oh hell no. They wouldn’t work in the bar, a lot like that shirt she was wearing last night and the skirt, too.

“So thanks again for sticking around,” she said, pouring me a mug of coffee from her machine that had obviously been set up with a timer.

I took it and drank deeply, trying to shake the fog in my head and the vivid memories of that dream. “Don’t need to thank me. Would you thank Mase for the same thing?” I said for some fucked-up reason.

Quinn frowned. “Well, yeah, I would, actually. Brother or not. And in case it slipped your mind, you are not. You went above and beyond, so, yes, I do need to thank you.”

I inwardly winced at my desperate attempt to get my head back on straight, back to where I needed it to be. Which was an epic fail, because Mase sure as fuck wasn’t having the kinds of dreams about his sister that I was.

She’s not your sister.

No shit.

I quickly finished off my drink, suddenly desperate to get the hell out of there. “I’m gonna set up a motion alarm out there. The cougar comes back, a shot of cold water hits him and sends him away. Should sort out the problem.” She opened her mouth to speak and I shook my head. “Don’t tell me not to do it, and don’t thank me,” I said, probably a lot harsher than I’d intended.

She closed her mouth, leaned against the counter, and crossed her arms. “Fine.” She shrugged. “You do whatever you need to. But let me know how much it costs. I’m paying for it.”

I shrugged as well. “Fair enough.” I went back to the living room, shoved my feet in my boots, and headed for the door.

“I have to head out, but I’ll see you at work later,” she called after me.

Christ.

I needed a drink. Fucking shame it was barely morning.

* * *

It was hot and stuffy in here, and there were too many people.

Yeah, I was happy Cal’s exhibition at Cassy’s Springhaven Gallery was going well—shit, sold tags were already going up and things only got started half an hour ago—but this wasn’t my kind of deal. Hell, it wasn’t Cal’s. I still couldn’t believe Cassy had convinced him to show his paintings.

Putting down my beer, I undid the cuffs on my black button-down and rolled them up. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was on edge, restless.

Quinn’s not here yet.

Jesus, was that it, really?

Fuck me. My head was still all over the place where she was concerned.

“You look nice,” Cassy said, coming to stand beside me and handing me another beer.

I felt my face heat.

I grunted and inwardly winced.