Page 12 of A Sin So Pure

Beauty and brutality. Pleasure and danger. She’s a study in dichotomies.

I’m so unbelievably fucked.

Leo snaps in front of my face; the apples of my cheeks flush with heat.

“Drinks are ready,” he says, pushing a glass of white wine forward from a line of four drinks.

One for each of us—me, Leo, Josie, and Nora. The bartenders know our orders by heart.

I down a few gulps, the fruity fragrance filling my nose as the cool liquid slides down my throat. I shoot Leo a glare over the rim, daring him to comment at my rapid consumption. He doesn’t, but there’s that devious spark cloying at the edges of his brown eyes.

Leo’s attention flicks over my right shoulder. A second later, there’s warmth at my back. Lithe arms draped in billowing white silk reach around me. One gloved hand grips the bar to my left and the other grabs the crystal glass of whiskey on my right.

“Lust.”

Nora’s hot breath tickles my ear. Gooseflesh spreads on my skin like wildfire on a drought-ridden land. The flush consumes my cheeks and neck.

“Pride,” I say, tilting my head towards hers.

We’re so close our lips could touch.

But neither of us leans forward, both of us relishing in the tension that lives in the space between our bodies. We stay suspended in this moment, the rest of the world a blur of color and static sound around us.

“How are you?” she asks, voice thick as honey.

“Can’t complain now that you’re here,” I whisper. “Happy one year, by the way.”

Nora steps back, smirking over her glass. The loss of her warmth feels like a punishment, but she knows that. This is how it is between us: a push and pull.

She hums, reaching forward with her free hand to finger the end of my hair. She wraps a blond strand around one finger, twirling the golden wave so that it gives a delicious tug at my scalp—not enough to hurt, but enough to tease.

“You wore your hair long.”

I shrug. “Didn’t feel like curling and pinning it short today.”

“I like it.”

“I’m also doing fine. Thank you for asking, Nora,” Leo interjects.

My cheeks somehow get hotter as the bubble around the two of us pops. But Nora laughs, leaning over the bar on both forearms to match my Second in a standoff that’s all too familiar.

Leo isn’t angry; this is just how they are.

“Hi, Leo,” Nora drawls.

“I fucking hate parallel parking. Especially now that every Tom, Dick, and Harry has a car. Next time, you’re driving, Nor.” Josie sidles up to the bar, to the right of Nora.

“I told you we should have come with Hattie and the boys,” Nora mutters into her drink.

“Yeah, but then I can’t leave whenever I want.” Josie pauses and leans around Nora to shoot me a dimpled grin. “Hey, Mo.” Then, her attention shoots to Leo, her brows knitting together. “Why are you behind the bar?”

Her fingers tap on the bar with nervous energy.

Josie’s always like this, fidgety around so many people. Some empaths love it, the rush of emotion from crowds—others get overwhelmed. Josie is the latter.

She’s a different kind of empath. One that doesn’t just sense emotions, but can hear thoughts too.

“Don’t worry, I was just helping out during the big rush. I can still be your wingman on the dance floor,” Leo teases.

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