Page 29 of Sin for You

Why the fuck had I gone and bought new jeans as well as the shirt? It was obvious that’s exactly what they were: new. I didn’t do shit like that. Everyone knew I didn’t do shit like that. God, what were they thinking? Probably that I was trying to impress someone, that I was trying to get someone’s attention.

The door opened and I glanced over, about to take a deep pull of my beer, wishing it was something stronger…and my hand stalled in midair.

Quinn.

My skin prickled instantly, and my back started sweating.

She was wearing a dress. Short and black. Quinn never wore dresses.

And heels. High sexy stilettos. Spiked ones that made her legs look even longer. The dress plunged at the front, showing off the soft swells of her breasts, and had a split over her right thigh. Too much skin. Way too much fucking skin. I searched the room, noting how many male eyes were on her. Too many.

“She looks good, doesn’t she?” Cassy said beside me.

Quinn had looked good before. She didn’t need to change anything as far as I was concerned.

I glanced down at Cassy, at the pride on her face. “You did this?” I said, more grit in my voice than before.

She smiled up at me. “I helped. Quinn wanted a change, to shake things up a bit.” She patted my arm. “I’m going to go grab her before someone else does.”

The muscles in my lower back felt tight, and sweat slid down between my shoulder blades. Going by the eyes still on Quinn, a lot of someones wanted to grab her before Cassy could.

I gripped my beer tighter, unable to look away from Quinn as she moved farther into the gallery, greeted Cassy, the way they talked animatedly to each other, and as she made her way around the room, smiling and laughing and chatting with a whole lot of other people.

What she didn’t do was look at me, not once.

Ever since Quinn came home, one thing was a given: whenever she walked into a room I was in, she sought me out. Her gray eyes would search the room until they found me, and as soon as they did, the tension in her shoulders would ease, like she needed me somehow.

She hadn’t done it when she came into work after I’d slept at her place, or the next night, and she wasn’t doing it now. It wasn’t like she’d been purposely ignoring me—she still greeted me and said good night—she’d just stopped looking at me like she needed me.

I never realized how much I liked it until she stopped doing it.

Honestly, I hated it.

I knew deep down what it was about. I made her feel safe, secure, and after what had happened with her prick of an ex-fiancé, she’d needed someone to give her that. For some reason, she’d chosen me.

And yeah, I knew that’s why she tried to kiss me. Quinn was all mixed up after what she went through. She didn’t actually want me. She’d just been momentarily confused.

Looking at her now, she sure as fuck wasn’t confused about her feelings for me anymore.

A weird feeling started up behind my ribs, somewhere in the center of my chest. I rubbed at it and took another deep pull of my beer, scowling as she moved out of view.

I finished my beer and grabbed another one, then before I knew what I was doing, I was heading in her direction.

Chapter Seven

Quinn

It had taken two glasses of wine and a serious talk with myself to walk into this gallery, but once I was here I felt good. I felt kind of…well, beautiful.

I took a sip of the champagne Cassy had put in my hand when I walked in and stared up at the painting in front of me. Cal was extremely talented. Like I had no idea how much. Mainly he did landscapes from around the area, but that didn’t do them justice. They were moody and bold and so emotive they hit you right in the chest.

I never knew art could reach a person like that, but Cal had that gift, and if I’d had the money, I would have loved one of his paintings in my home.

Not all were landscapes, though. There were two of Cassy, and they were breathtaking. One of her on a white horse, bent over the animal, hair flying out behind her. You could see the movement, feel the adrenaline, it was that good. The other was Cassy with her back to the canvas from the waist up, bare except for the beautiful tattoos down one side of her body. Her head was turned so you could see her profile, and she was looking at something or someone, a secret smile on her face.

Cal. She was obviously looking at Cal, who I’d noted had put sold tags on both paintings. Going by Cassy’s little headshake and the way she’d bitten her lip trying to contain her smile as she watched him do it, they weren’t sold at all; more likely he’d changed his mind and didn’t want anyone else to have them.

My heart squeezed a little. What would it be like to be loved like that?