Page 40

SINCLAIR

“Feel good to be back?”

I glance at Killian as I place Monty’s breakfast bowl down for him and fuss him as he trots over to eat.

“Yeah. I mean the peace was nice. Denver’s place is in the middle of nowhere. But I’m not going to lie, I’m glad to have Wi-Fi back.”

Killian chuckles as I move around the living area, packing what I need for my runway show into my bag.

We got back yesterday, and after dropping me home, Denver showed me how to use my new security system he had installed while we were away, and then he left.

My father wanted to have a meeting with him.

I haven’t seen him since. Even with Monty in bed with me last night, it still felt empty.

Killian came over this morning to be my backup for the day incase whatever Denver’s doing takes longer than anticipated.

“They’re here.” Killian pockets his phone after reading the text that just came through.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach. I’m being stupid. It’s one night since I saw him. One. Yet I’m buzzing with electricity now he’s close by.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock at my apartment door, but I let Killian answer it as I move into the kitchen.

Deep rumbles of voices flow down from the hallway, and I clench my thighs together at the deepest one.

“Hey, Sinclair.”

I turn, smiling at Jenson as he walks into the room.

“Hey.” My eyes immediately move from him to the giant, dark and brooding hulk behind him.

Denver’s back in his usual uniform of dark suit and tie, white shirt, gun on his belt… and a serious expression that gives nothing away and just makes him look pissed.

Jenson starts talking to Killian as Denver and I stare at one another. His brows lower over his intense gaze, and something about how cold and detached he is makes me spin back around under the pretense of fixing the drinks I’m making.

I swallow, my throat thick. I recognize that look. He’s all business, looking at me like I’m his client.

He clears his throat. “Sinclair? We need to leave in the next five minutes to make it to your show on time.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, keeping my back to him.

That voice. Those instructions, spoken without any warmth.

So clinical. Detached. If he’s going to try and tell me we have to stop this, like he did before I ran from him in the forest, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Smack him in the mouth, perhaps? Or burst into tears.

The way my heart’s racing right now, either is possible.

He can’t expect now we’re back in the city, we’re going to just ignore what happened.

Goosebumps prick up along my upper arms as his breath hits the back of my neck.

He’s moved so close that the heat from his body seeps through my vest and makes me burn.

The sound of his tongue wetting his lips as he leans closer, keeping his voice low so Jenson and Killian can’t hear, makes a shiver run up my spine.

“I missed you,” he breathes.

Relief and lust entwine together, making heat flood my core. I spin and lean against the counter, gazing up at him.

“Did you?”

His green eyes soften, the gold around his pupils glowing like a sunbeam in the dark.

“More than anything,” he murmurs, all delicious and gravelly.

“Then I guess I missed you too,” I whisper, aching to slide my arms around his neck and pull his lips to mine. It’s the longest I’ve ever gone without feeling his lips on mine and his hands on me. I hate it.

I bite my lower lip and we stare at one another until the silence grows and I realize Jenson and Killian have stopped talking.

I glance over and they’re both watching us. Jenson’s wearing a cocky grin, but Killian looks concerned.

“We’re going. Sterling needs us to keep looking into something.” Killian keeps his eyes fixed on Denver’s like he’s communicating in some special code.

Denver’s jaw tightens and he nods once. “Fine. I’ll call you later for an update.”

“Enjoy your show, Sinclair,” Killian says to me.

“Thanks, I will.”

“Later.” Jenson grins, before looking at Monty. “Nice bro, always looking so sharp.”

I follow his gaze to the new sweater Monty has on and hold back my giggle as Denver zones in on it.

“That’s my shirt,” he rumbles.

“ Was your shirt,” I say, admiring the way it turned out when I remodeled it into something for Monty. “You threw it in the trash. I didn’t want to waste it.”

His eyes stay on Monty and the sweater I made from the shirt he got my blood all over on our hike.

“He’s grateful to you. He likes it,” I add with a smile.

“Wears it better than you,” Jenson quips.

Denver’s eyes narrow as he takes the travel mug of coffee I’m holding out to him. Our fingers brush and the way his eyes heat when they meet mine, like he’s thinking of doing something really filthy to me, has heat pooling between my thighs.

“Wait for us,” he calls to Killian and Jenson, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “We’ll ride the elevator down with you.”

I keep my gaze on the side of Denver’s face as we drive. We’ve just dropped Monty off at my father and Halliday’s while I’m at the show. Denver’s barely said two words since we left my apartment.

“Are you annoyed about the sweater? Is that why you marched us out of there?”

A muscle in his cheek clenches and he sucks in a breath through his nose. “I don’t care about the sweater. I cared about the fact I couldn’t be alone with you in your apartment for even a second if there was a chance you were going to make your show today.”

“Oh.” I grin. “Because you wanted to get me naked?”

He exhales, his shoulders softening. “Because I’m going crazy every second I can’t touch you.” He places his hand on my thigh, letting out a gentle groan as he squeezes my flesh.

He drives with one hand on the wheel, in relaxed control as he massages my thigh with his thumb. It’s so simple, yet something about it makes me wet.

“I could be late?” I suggest, squirming in my seat.

He squeezes my thigh more firmly. “No, you can’t. This show’s important to you. It’s the reason we’re back here earlier than I wanted. You aren’t going to be late for it.”

I pout as he glances at me.

“Princess,” he growls in warning, which only makes me wetter.

“Fine,” I huff. “I just… you haven’t… since we came back to the city, we haven’t…” I fold my arms and stare out of the window like a sulking child.

“I haven’t taken care of you?” He squeezes my thigh when I don’t answer. “I want to, believe me. It’s just been full on since I got back. I had a lot to get caught up on.”

“It’s fine.” I shrug.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

I whip my gaze back to his, but his eyes are on the road and his face is straight, giving nothing away.

“You want to sleep over?”

“That a problem?” He frowns.

A bolt of excitement jabs me in the stomach.

I expected to have to talk him into it. Like being back was going to play with his conscience until we came clean to my father and Sullivan about us.

Whatever ‘us’ is exactly. But a part of me was hoping we wouldn’t have to do anything yet.

Because even though it’s selfish, I’m enjoying having something to myself for a change.

So much of my life I’ve been protected. Decisions have been made for me.

Denver is my decision, and mine alone. And I want to keep it that way a little longer.

“No problem,” I answer, turning to the window again so he doesn’t see my goofy grin.

“Will Monty be wearing more of my clothes when I wake up, though?” Amusement laces his tone, and I can’t help but look back at him.

“He looks good in it, admit it.”

Denver’s lips twitch. “Yeah, he does. Did you make it yourself?”

“I did.” I beam, rather proud of myself.

“I’ve picked up a trick or two working in fashion.

I know my way around a needle and thread.

Plus, I know where it came from. I’m really careful about the brands I work with.

You wouldn’t believe some of the workers’ conditions that make garments for some fashion houses. ”

“Child labor,” Denver says.

“Exactly. For an industry that’s all about beautiful things, it’s really ugly.

I saw it when I visited a factory overseas on a shoot.

I took Monty with me, and the kids there loved him .

Kids, Denver. They were filthy and overworked and…

” I rub at my chest, at the ache there whenever I picture their little faces.

“The real beauty was there. In every snotty-nosed cuddle and dirty-handed stroke they gave him and me. I thought of Molly when she’s older and I… They don’t even get to go to school.”

“I know.”

I narrow my eyes at him, but he keeps his attention on the road, even though my gaze must be burning into him.

“You know?” I drop my head back against the headrest and roll my eyes. “Of course you do. You know everything because it’s your job.”

He squeezes my thigh, and I snort.

“How long?”

“How long?” he repeats, glancing at me.

I can’t help but smile at the warmth in his eyes as they meet mine.

“How long have you known who Julian really is?” I ask.

Denver presses his lips together. “Since a few days after I saw you out with him that night.”

I shake my head and laugh. “Jeez. There’s no hiding anything from you, is there? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because it was for you to tell me when you were ready. We have to be ready to talk about these things. As long as I know you’re safe, I don’t need to know more until you’re ready to share it with me.”

I gaze at him. Maybe that’s what it’s like for him and Dixie, and her mom, Lizzie. And why he hasn’t told me more about what happened between them yet. Maybe he’s not ready to share that part of himself yet.

“I don’t understand why you keep it a secret, though.”

I shrug. “People expect me to be a certain way. And I’m fine with that.

They don’t need to know that Julian’s helped me start a foundation to help get those kids out of the factory and into school.

It’d look like some vain publicity stunt if I were to share it.

Our investors are good people who are helping because they care about the changes they’ll make, not because they care what it’ll do for their image.

And besides, only my family’s opinion of me matters, no one else’s. ”

“I admire that, I really do.”

“But?”

He glances at me. “No buts, Sinclair. You’re doing something great.”

“But you think I could use my name to help give it more publicity? To raise more money and awareness.”

“I didn’t say that.”

I reach up and run the backs of my fingers over his cheekbone and down the planes of his handsome face.

“You didn’t have to. You’re right. I’m just… not ready yet.”

He turns and catches my fingertips with his lips, kissing them. It’s the first bit of real contact I’ve had with him since we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and drove into Manhattan, and my pathetic heart soars at the momentary flash of warmth against my skin before it’s gone.

“We’re here,” he says, taking his hand from my thigh. “Time to get back to work, Princess.”