Page 18 of A Sin So Pure

Nora’s hands protectively pull me closer—if that’s somehow possible.

“You’re out past curfew,” he says.

My head whips around, my body twisting in Nora’s lap to peer at the clock mounted to the wall.

“Shit,” I say.

I scramble off Nora’s lap and realize the party has almost entirely died down. It’s an understatement to say we lost track of time.

I guess no one wanted to interrupt us.

I don’t blame them, based on the way Nora’s shooting daggers at my brother, but Conor doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, his blue eyes glint with mirth as they take in my rumpled state.

“Can you give me a minute? I’ll be right out,” I say, pushing at his chest and hoping he gets the hint.

I’m not being subtle.

He ignores me, focusing on Nora. He shoots her one of his signature grins, and I swear I hear the other girls in the room sigh wistfully in response. I may be Lust’s daughter, but Conor is her heir, and he looks the part with his flawlessly styled blond hair and pressed suit that fits him to the millimeter.

Nora isn’t as googly-eyed as the others, though.

“Good to see you outside of work, Nora,” he says.

“Same to you,” she says. Her eyes flick between me and my brother. “Imogen asked you for a moment alone, no?”

Conor chuckles with his tongue in his cheek.

“That she did,” he says. He turns, raising his brows at me. “I’ll be outside.”

I wait until he’s halfway to the door before I speak again.

“Sorry,” I whisper to Nora. I twirl my thumbs together, suddenly a fumbling, awkward mess. “I’ll, uh, see you around?”

She smirks. “Graduation’s this weekend.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Graduation,” I say.

Where the fuck did all that confidence from before go, Mo? Get it together.

“You should probably get going,” she says, ticking her head towards where my brother holds the front door open, waiting for me. She does a terrible job at holding back her playful smile. “He won’t like me keeping you any longer pastcurfew.”

I groan a curse; she chuckles.

Nora stands and gently presses a kiss to my cheek, but she doesn’t pull away. Her lips come to my ear, whispering, “Have a good night, Imogen.”

“Goodnight,” I murmur, basking in the feel of her cheek against mine.

Then I’m out the door, pushing past my brother and hoping that he’s not using his magic. I don’t want him to pick up the swirling mix of awkwardness and arousal still coursing through me. I fortify my mental shields, padding them with imaginary materials so that none of it can slip out of me.

Though I imagine the deep red blush blooming on my cheeks betrays my embarrassment enough.

Conor’s footsteps and laughter follow me down the hall.

“Ma said to make friends, not lovers, Mo,” he says, like it’s some kind of joke. But his tone doesn’t hold any cruelty, just the teasing lilt of an annoying older brother.

At least he didn’t try to threaten her like he did my last girlfriend.

Conor catches up to me and tries to wrap his arm around my shoulder. I bat his arm away once, twice, then give up when I realizehe’snot going to give up. He envelops me in a protective embrace as we walk through the city streets, leading us back home.

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