Page 135 of Sin With Me

Eve’s bedroom door clicks closed and my spine stiffens. I roll my neck as I focus on my call and the feeling of the acrid smoke burning my lungs, letting it ground me.

“I gotta go,” I say, watching her step out of the hallway, a sandal in one hand, the same ratty leather bag she’s always carried in the other. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her eyes snap up at that, and she gives me a confused look before shaking it away.

“Alright. Just take care of yourself,” Kon mumbles, his voice softer than usual. It makes my chest clench, aching for his familiarity. My home. My family. It’s not here. Not anymore. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding my question.” I grin at the rough bark in his tone.

There he is.

I end the call and shove my phone into my back pocket. Eve’s eyes rake over my body, taking in my tight black tee, black jeans, and combat boots. It’s basically my uniform at this point. Same shit I was wearing yesterday, and the same shit I’ll wear tomorrow. I don’t know why she’s looking at me like this. Regardless, I let her take her fill, doing the same thing right back.

She’s wearing a long, yellow sundress that’s flowing around her ankles with white polka dots on it. It’s got tiny ruffled sleeves and a neckline that, on anyone else, would be modest. But on Eve, it’s indecent, with her tits practically spilling out.

Her long, curly hair is down and free, framing her delicate shoulders with a wildness I’ve missed seeing. She’s barely wearing any makeup and her freckles are visible from here.

She looks hot as fuck.

And it pisses me off.

“You’re leaving?” she asks quietly, and I blink, stopping my obvious ogling.

Damn, she really is different from the girl I once knew. Even after seeing her naked body on Favorite Fans, I’d still expected her to look the same. But right here, right now, it’s clear the Eve I left four years ago is gone.

“Seriously, Roman?” She scoffs, crossing her arms below her tits, shoving them up higher as she tries to put on a show of a confidence I don’t buy. Her chest is heaving rapidly, her pulse jumping in her throat. “What are you looking at?” She’s uncomfortable with my attention on her, and it ignites something inside me.

Good. She should be uncomfortable. I’m fucking uncomfortable.

“Nice hair.” I smirk around my cigarette, taking another drag as I close the distance between us. A ripple runs over my back as I pass the old bookcase with my eyes locked on hers. “You look freshly fucked.”

Her blue eyes widen, her hands fall to her sides, her shoe and bag dropping to the floor. For every step I take forward, she takes one back, until she hits the living room wall and has nowhere left to go.

Fuck, it makes me feel good. She’s like a little bunny, helpless against the big bad wolf.

“Stop it,” she weakly protests.

With just inches between us, I can smell her sweet scent wafting off her as if my nose is directly planted in her soft hair. It makes my body hum. I bring a finger up and wrap one of her slightly frizzy curls around it. Her hair is naturally curly, but untamed and always more on the cusp of a crazed bed head than anything.

“So soft,” I whisper, rubbing the strands between my fingers. “Does Daddy play with your hair? Get it nice and fucked up when he’s deep inside your traitorous cunt?”

“Ro,” she gasps, her neck craned back to meet my eyes.

Eve’s not short for a woman, but I’m tall. Taller than her, taller than Isaac. She barely comes to my shoulders and with her eyes locked on mine, wide with fear and anxiety, I feel massive. I feel powerful, which isn’t something I ever thought I’d feel standing in this house.

And she—she looks small.

I hope she feels it, too.

“What’s wrong, little sister?” I blow a stream of smoke in her face, chuckling at the dramatic way she chokes and sputters. I pull the cigarette from my lips, and tug her strand of hair, forcing her to keep her eyes on mine. I lean in, getting far closer to her than I’d intended. “Having buyer’s remorse?”

She tries to bat my hand away, but I tighten my fingers in her hair until I’ve got a chunk fisted in my grip. I click my tongue in warning, committing every guilty, sad look that flits across her porcelain skin to my depraved memory.

“You know,” I whisper. “I always knew when you made the choice you did, things would never be the same. But you know what they say. You made your bed, and now you have to lie in it.” My eyes flick between hers, my hand shaking with the need to press my cigarette against the wood by her head, to send everything up in flames around us. “I just didn’t realize it was his bed you’d be lying in.”

She gives up trying to remove my fingers, my grip unrelenting and settles for shoving at my chest. It does nothing but cause her pain.

“What are you talking about?” she hisses, her blue eyes burning with so many emotions, they become clouded. I can almost watch the memories flit through her mind like a movie. But then she blinks, and our bubble pops. “Let go of me.”

Shaking my head in disappointment, I tug on her hair one last time, and bring her curls to my nose, inhaling deeply. Just one hit before I turn my back on the lying bitch.

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