Page 3 of My Favorite Sin

She rolls her eyes at my teasing and gives a laugh of disapproval as we arrive at the baggage collection. “You know that’s illegal.”

“Wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“I visited Saint-Saëns’s grave and Chopin’s tomb. Does that count? It was so beautiful but also sad. I shed a few tears.”

Of course she did. I chuckle at the information, relieved that some sense of normality has returned between us.

“I’m being weird, aren’t I? Sorry,” she says. “You probably don’t care about any of these details.”

I have no interest in this classical music stuff whatsoever, aside from the fact that Ally loves it. So, naturally, it’s become a passion of mine too.

“YouknowI care about these details. I want to hear everything. Ally…” A confession sits on the tip of my tongue. Against the warning in my head, I say the words out loud. “I missed you. I thought about you a lot?—”

“Oh, there’s my suitcase.” Ally points to the conveyor belt and leaves my side.

She heard me. I know she did. She’s setting a precedent. Ally has moved on from me, just like she promised in her letter.

I’m the only one between us who is still plagued with this obsession.

CHAPTER TWO

ALLY

“Nice place you’ve got here.” My fingers trail along the industrial-style brick wall as I walk through Dan’s living room for the first time.

It’s a one-bedroom in Soho he bought a few months back and every inch of it spells out Dan Blackwood. He’s always had a thing for dark rooms lit by neon lights. I swear that’s the only way I ever saw his bedroom back at our parents’ penthouse. We’re standing in dull red light right now, curtesy of the neon strip skirting the ceiling.

I don’t know what it is about the neon lights, but they always evoke a sinful feeling, like it’s two a.m. in a dive bar where nothing good ever happens. They make me think of sex, secrets, danger and.… all the times I was alone with Dan in his bedroom when I shouldn’t have been. I’m tempted to ask that we turn on the regular lights, but can’t seem to make myself say the words, shamefully comforted by the return of this sinful feeling I haven’t felt in a year.

I continue scanning the apartment, attempting to distract myself from thoughts of sex. On the coffee table, there are a few towers of poker chips and a mess of playingcards, along with a bottle of whiskey and five crystal tumblers.

“Did you win big?”

When Dan doesn’t answer, I glance over my shoulder, catching his gaze flick up from my ass to make eye contact. Heat pools in my cheeks which I’m thankful can’t be seen in this red light. My breath catches at the way he’s looking at me. This silence between us. The sexual tension has been thick since we locked eyes at the airport.

Regardless of whether Dan has moved on from me, I know he’s thinking about all the times I got undressed in front of him and… performed. I’ve been thinking about them too. Non-stop. As a twenty-year-old virgin, I didn’t think it was possible I could think about sex more. But since the moment I stepped off the plane tonight and saw Dan, my mind is in overdrive. My skin is constantly tingling with a nervous state of arousal, being with him again. Hearing his deep voice. I forgot how intoxicating it is to have Dan Blackwood simply look at me. To be in his presence. Be the girl he’s thinking about.

A lock of dark hair falls in his eyes. I want to reach out and touch that piece of hair and trace the shape of his lips with my fingers. He has a thin layer of stubble and my fingers crave to brush against his jaw to feel the coarse hair.

In the year we’ve been apart, he’s changed so much and is all…mannow. His shoulders have broadened. He’s taller. More muscular. I feel so tiny beside him, like a little girl. I don’t think I’ve changed much at all. Paris was meant to be a reset. A chance to meet new guys and forget about my feelings for Dan.

Paris changed nothing at all.

I didn’t meet any new guys. I didn’t make any lasting friendships. I’m still the same awkward girl from a year agowho can’t hold a conversation with anyone outside of my family.

I always wonder if talking to guys and finding a boyfriend would be easier for me if my mom hadn’t sent me to an all-girls school, or if I’d grown up knowing my father instead of the violence I was exposed to from Mom’s ex-boyfriend. The trust issues would be fewer. I’d have more confidence in social settings. More friends. Maybe I wouldn’t have been bullied for being so quiet. Maybe I wouldn’t have panic attacks or have needed to see a therapist for years.

Dan doesn’t need to know how stagnant my year abroad was. Let him think I’ve moved on from him. It’s for the best. I can’t risk people finding out about us. Our parents would be disgusted in me. Forever Families’ reputation would be disgraced and never recover.

“I should go to sleep. It’s late,” I say, needing some way to break this spell between us, though I’m not the least bit tired. I didn’t expect to feel this instant overwhelming need for Dan, and if I don’t distance myself from him immediately, I know I’ll cave in and do something with him tonight I regret.

“Of course. Take my bedroom. I’ll sleep on the fold-out couch in the living room.”

My stomach clenches, thinking about being in Dan’s bed again. He sees the apprehension on my face, and I swear a flash of annoyance crosses his eyes.

“The sheets are fresh, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

That’s thelastthing I’m worried about. “I can’t take your bedroom. That would be rude.”

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