Page 4 of My Favorite Sin

“Ally, you know I don’t give a shit about you taking my room. You’ve been on a long flight and arebound to get jetlag. It’s easier if you take the bedroom so I don’t disturb you.”

Dan opens the door to his room and places my luggage inside. It too is dark in there, soaked in neon blue light.

“Okay, um, thanks.” I step into the room, staring at his king-sized bed, imagining the two of us— No. I shut down that trail of thought. “I suppose… goodnight, then.”

“Ease the fuck up, okay? We’re not like this.” Dan jabs my ribs as he walks by, and I squeal at the sharp poke. A smug grin tugs at his lips and he shuts the door on his way out, leaving me alone in his bedroom. “Night, sis.”

I spin around, staring at the door he left through, my eyes wide and my cheeks hot all over again at his parting words. There was a tone to them I can’t figure out. Slightly sharp and sarcastic. Also suggestive. Sexual.

Overall, Dan has been nice to me in the few hours I’ve been back in the country. I wonder how much of his behavior is genuine, considering how things ended between us. If Dan is furious with me, I won’t hold it against him. What I did was harsh but necessary.

After I graduated from high school, Dan secretly sent an audition tape to the Paris Conservatoire of me playing the piano. I didn’t have confidence to apply to the institute myself, due to my anxiety around auditions. When I received my acceptance letter, it was the tipping point that made me realize I’m in love with him. He’d done something so incredibly thoughtful for me and we kissed for the first time ever, which sounds bizarre considering everything we’d done prior.

We never engaged in sex together. It was always one-sided. Me, stripping out of my clothes, the innocent virgin eager to be taught about my body and how to give myself an orgasm. Though what we did was wrong, the physicalbarrier between us was a comfort, making me feel like I hadn’t technically done anything with Dan.

The kiss was different. It broke that barrier. In came a rush of emotions that made me realize I was in too deep and I couldn’t resist my feelings for him any longer. Sooner or later, someone would have found out about us, and I was so addicted to Dan that there was no other option than a clean break.

I accepted the scholarship and fled town. I should have said a proper goodbye to him in person instead of through the letter, but I couldn’t go through with it. I knew he would find some way to convince me we should be together. I would have given into him too.

Trying to forget those memories and that Dan is sleeping on the other side of the wall from me tonight, I take in my surroundings, scanning his bedroom—the built-in closet with a mirror sliding door; the massive windows that give a jaw dropping view of the Manhattan skyline.

I sit on the edge of the bed to remove my shoes, my attention snagging on the bedside table to a photo of Dan and our three older brothers at a black-tie event. They’re all very handsome men but don’t have anything on Dan, in my opinion. I have a normal, healthy relationship with my other stepbrothers, and it will be nice to see them again.

Behind the photo of Dan and his brothers is one of the two of us. There are no faces, thank God. The photo is from the waist down. But I know it’s us. I remember the exact moment. We’re sitting together on a couch. My legs are draped over Dan’s and his hand is high on my leg, between my thighs in such a possessive way.

A thrill runs through me, traveling to that same spot between my legs where he held me. The feeling turns intoan ache, one I’m all too familiar with whenever I think of Dan touching me.

In the next room over, the shower turns on. My eyes flick to the sound, finding light seeping beneath what I assume is a second bathroom door. It only deepens the ache low in my core.

In an attempt to not think about Dan in the shower, I change into my pajamas and crawl between his black satin sheets, needing to sleep this night away, along with the growing pulse in my groin.

But sleeping through this tension, this urge for release, is near impossible.

My eyes snap to the bathroom at the sound of something deep. A… groan?

My body flushes with even more heat. The pulsing between my thighs gets heavier. Outright painful. It was only a small groan. Maybe not even a groan at all. Maybe I’m imagining the whole thing. Surely Dan isn’t…

The shower turns off. I hear him leave the bathroom.

My God. I just heard Dan jerking off. I know I did.

An image comes to mind of what he’d look like with his hand wrapped around his cock. Of all the things that happened between us, I never saw Dan without his clothes on. I never got to see him come.

Jesus. I shouldnotbe thinking about Dan jerking off.

Or what he would sound like having sex.

Or how his muscles would flex when he thrusts.

I told myself this obsession would stop in Paris. I promised myself—I even promised Dan in the letter I left him—that I would be returning as a friend.

I’m going to keep that promise.

But not right now.

Not while I’m in Dan’s bed. It won’t hurt if I give in just one more time.

I squeeze my thighs, teasing the ache. I’m sure Dan has brought many girls back to this bed. We never spoke in depth about his sex life, but I know he’s experienced. Girls have always flocked to him, and not only because he’s a Blackwood, though his father’s wealth never hurt. Dan is the kind of guy who gets invited to every party, has countless friends, and fits in everywhere he goes. He doesn’t do girlfriends, just fucks girls, and never the same one twice. He hasn’t mentioned any girlfriend since my return, so I assume not much has changed.

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