Page 2 of Sin for You

He motioned to my hat and jacket. “For the fucking Arctic.”

“Um, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but it’s freaking winter and it just started snowing.”

“You walk here?” he said in that rumbling, ground-shaking voice.

“Nope. I drove, but my heater crapped itself last week.”

I pulled open the main door and held it wide for Bull. He carried the box through and put it down behind the bar. “Thaw out and then unpack this, yeah?”

“Sure thing.” I spun away and…slipped on the water I’d tracked in. “Shit.”

But before I could land flat on my back, a massive arm hooked me around the waist and I was hauled off my feet. Bull took three giant steps with me dangling in the air, then he deposited me back on my feet, muttering something under his breath.

He released me and stepped back, but not before I got a dose of the intense heat radiating from his body.

Bull was always warm—that was something else I liked about him. The man was like a giant grizzly bear, and I’d spent more than one lonely night imagining what it would be like to be wrapped in those colossal arms, held against that big body, warm and safe.

I was a serious cuddler.

And I wanted to be cuddled by Bull in a big way. I wanted to spend hours snuggling with him—preferably naked—after he’d covered me with that impressively sized warm body of his and screwed my brains out.

I blushed and cleared my throat. And Bull, clueless about the direction my thoughts had gone, frowned harder. “You’re hot.”

I sputtered. “What?”

He tugged the hat off my head, shoving it in my hand. “You’re flushed. You’re probably getting sick. Get all that shit off.”

I rolled my eyes, pretending my heart hadn’t just stopped dead in my chest and I hadn’t been hoping like hell that he’d meant something else entirely with that you’re hot comment, and smirked. “Such a charmer. Such a way with words.”

He muttered something else and headed back behind the bar, ignoring my sarcasm, and I headed to the break room to dump my stuff and get control of my overheated state.

Yes, I was well aware how clichéd it was having a thing for my older brother’s best friend. But it really wasn’t my fault. My crush on him started when I was ten, when Mase brought a sixteen-year-old Logan home after school one day.

He’d been big then as well, and shy. He’d had trouble meeting my dad’s eyes, had ducked his head and blushed a lot. He’d barely looked at me. I didn’t even think he knew Mase had a sister.

But the next week when Larry Winters, who was two years older than me and should have known better, lifted up my skirt outside Dino’s Diner, flashing my undies to everyone, Bull had come to my rescue.

He’d witnessed my humiliation and had charged across the street, heading straight for Larry. Bull had towered over the boy, crowding him against the side of the diner, and looking him in the eye, had shaken his head.

Bull didn’t touch him. Didn’t say a word. Just shook his head. Larry had peed his pants and run away.

Then he’d looked at me and said, “Okay?” Yes, he’d been a boy of few words then as well, and I’d nearly swooned.

I’d been smitten instantly.

I remember being struck by how beautiful he was. The man still was, but now in an intensely different, uber-masculine kind of way. I hadn’t forgotten the gorgeous face under that beard, though. And those eyes. Yeah, they were still the same melted chocolate, warm and enticing, but so, so bad for you. Well, for me anyway. Because Logan had never shown even the tiniest indication that he was interested in me romantically…or, um, sexually. Nothing. Nada.

The romance part I was more than happy to forgo and planned to avoid at all costs for the foreseeable future—sex was another story.

It wasn’t going to happen with Bull, though.

If anything, he saw me as an annoying little sister. Not what you wanted from the man who’d featured in your earliest fantasies.

Who still featured in your fantasies.

Only the stuff I came up with now was a whole hell of a lot hotter.

I really needed to stop doing that.