Page 60 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“I didn’t factor in the fumes in here.”

“I don’t smell anything.”

“You should put your nose here,” I say pointing at a spot on the side of my neck.

“Now who’s flirting?”

“This isn’t flirting. This is flailing.”

“Hot,” he says with that sexy grin.

“You think you can stop me from crossing a line?” I ask.

“Why would I stop you?” he asks. “Have you tasted yourself?”

“Jesus,” I groan, and just as I lean in to grab hold of his lips with mine, the elevator comes to an abrupt halt. The doors side open, revealing the lobby.

Christian takes a sharp breath, and I duck my head, my forehead bumping his shoulder. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you drunk. You’ll do less damage that way.”

My new assistant pats me on the back and gestures toward the lobby. I stumble into it, my dick stiff and aching. He overtakes my stride, leading the way to the stairwell down to the basement, where it takes every ounce of will power in my cells not to shove him against the wall and take his mouth.

But I manage not to. I even make it into his extremely dark apartment and onto his worn, spring-loaded, sleeper sofa where he brings over two glasses and a bottle of Espolon. “I’m sure whatever you’ve got is better,” he says, taking a seat more than an arm’s length away.

“You don’t like this one?” I ask, examining the bottle.

“I like it fine, but it’s thirty bucks. You strike me as the hundred-twenty dollar type.”

I laugh. “I have no idea how much anything costs. Literally anything.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Do you think that makes me unrelatable?”

“Nah, you seem pretty grounded in your privilege.”

“What does that even mean?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Just that I like it, I guess. You’re one of the good guys, Gibson.”

“Thank you.”

He nods.

“No, seriously,” I say. “That means a lot. I don’t always feel like it.” Marianne’s blackmail scheme comes to mind.

“So, what did you want to tell me about on the roof?”

“When? I feel like I said way too much in the elevator.”

“So that was it? You wanted to kiss me? Kind of a random answer to the question I asked.”

I sip the tequila, and it’s not bad at all. Smooth and slightly peppery, which I actually prefer to the sweeter ones or the smoky mezcals.

“You said you had a lot on your mind, and I asked like what.”

“Oh. Yeah. That was my marriage.”

“Your open marriage? Just to clarify.”

---