Page 28 of Sin Bin

“Zoe, noprying.”

“Does this have to do with the sex thing?” I ask, because there’s no way I can’t at this point. He’s made such a big stink out of it that it can only mean one thing . . . “Did you pick up a life-altering STD orsomething?”

The ridiculous comment pulls a laugh from him. “I don’t haveherpes.”

“I’d hope not,” I sayprimly.

“Even if I did, it wouldn’tmatter.”

“It wouldsort ofmatter,” I tell him, waving my hand back-and-forth in aso-somotion. “I have to say, this doesn’t make your actions any better. You’ve still beenadick.”

“I’ve always beenadick.”

“Well, this last year you’ve really uppedtheante.”

“I trymybest.”

He says it with such a blasé tone that I roll my eyes. “Maybe you should try yourworst?”

He mimics me and rolls his eyes too. “I’ve been at my worst, Zoe, and I can tell you that this me isn’t nearlyasbad.”

I want to press him for more, but the expression on his face stops me. Sometimes it’s best to find a speck of patience—not that Ihaveany.

ChapterNine

ANDRE

She’s planningsomething.

For the last hour and a half since we hit the road, Zoe has been fidgeting restlessly in the passenger’s seat. Which, in turn, makesmefeelrestless.

Although, in full honesty, I’ve been feeling that way for seven days now. Having Zoe back in my life is both a blessing and a curse. I missed her spitfire attitude, and, if our last few interactions have shown anything, I still get my rocks off on driving her up a wall just so I can see the heat darken her brown eyes and warm her cheeks withcolor.

Maybe that makes me an asshole, but damn it, it’sfuntoteaseher.

But that’s also the problem—when I’m knee-deep in our banter, I forget that I’m supposed to be making her want nothing to do with me. That’s the goal, that’s the mission, and I’m pretty sure that I’m failing seventy-percent ofthetime.

I cast my eyes over her slim body. She’s decked out in comfortable attire, and, for once, isn’t wearing stilettos. She looks exactly like the Zoe I remember from our movie nights, when she rested her feet in my lap and cradled a massive popcorn bowl against her stomach. AndthatZoe isdangerous.

Who am I kidding? Zoe Mackenzie is dangerous to me in every way thatmatters.

The sound of her nails tapping against her cell phone leads me off the edge. “Do you needtopiss?”

Out of my periphery, I see her shoulders jerk. “What?No.”

Don’t look at her, man. “Do you have to change your pad orsomething?”

“Oh, my God, Andre. Why would you evenaskthat?”

This time, I do cut a glance in her direction. Her pink lips are parted in shock, and, fuck me, but I want to kiss them. Of course I do—because when have I ever found Zoeunattractive? The answer to that is never; everything about her shines like a beacon only I can see. The thought of pounding my forehead into the steering wheel sounds like a blast right about now. “Because,” I mutter, unclenching my jaw, “you keep moving around. My sister does the same thing when she’s on her . . .thing.”

“Thing, Andre?” Her laughter echoes in my car, the sound so fucking sweet it almost hurts. “How oldareyou?”

I palm the steering wheel, following the curvy Connecticut highway. “Oldenough.”

“Then say it with me now,” she says, poking me in the arm with her perfectly manicured finger. “Period. One more time, slower now so you can really work on it . . .perriooddd.”

Is it wrong that I simultaneously want to toss her into the backseat and kiss her silent, as much as I want to keep egging her on? I go with the latter, because, fuck it, the kissing thing is strictly off-limits.

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