Chapter 3
Sin
I get the fuck out of Laurel’s office before I do something reckless, like kiss her.
My chest is tight, my jaw locked so hard it aches, and my cock is painfully hard behind the zipper of my slacks. The damn thing throbs with every step I take down the hallway, reminding me exactly how close I came to losing control in there.
Jesus Christ.
All because she looked at me with those big sea green eyes and that stubborn mouth while pretending she didn’t feel the same thing I did.
Bullshit. She felt it. I know she did. I watched it happen.
Saw the exact second her breathing changed when I leaned over her desk.
Saw her pupils widen when I said her name.
And then she looked at my wedding ring and shut down so fast it felt like getting punched in the throat.
Good.
That should’ve been the end of it.
Instead, all I can think about is dragging her into my lap and forcing that sharp little mouth to stop arguing long enough for me to kiss her. Fuck. I stalk into my office and nearly groan when I see Wilder sitting in the guest chair across from my desk.
Out of all my brothers, Wilder looks the most like me. Same dark hair. Same size. Same permanent expression that makes people nervous. The only difference is he looks like he belongs in a prison fight. Right now, the bastard looks entertained.
I close the door behind me and head for my desk, resisting the urge to adjust myself because Wilder will absolutely notice.
“Yes?”
He leans back in the chair casually. “Want to tell me what in the hell is going on?”
I sit down slowly. “You’ll need to narrow that down.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He gestures vaguely toward the hallway. “Maybe we start with the fact that you looked two seconds away from bending Laurel Cross over the conference table.”
I go still.
“Wilder,” I warn quietly.
Wilder grins immediately. “That bad, huh?”
I glare at him.
The asshole laughs harder. “Holy shit.”
I drag a hand down my beard and lean back in my chair, trying unsuccessfully to think about literally anything other than Laurel standing in front of me in that tight skirt and silk blouse. Or the way she snapped at me in the meeting.
With respect, we do not sell toothbrushes.
Christ. That should not have turned me on as much as it did.
“She mouthed off to you in front of the board and shareholders,” Wilder says. “And instead of getting pissed, you put yourself on her project.”
“She’s smart.”
“That’s not why.”
I say nothing. Because there’s no point denying it to my brothers. They know me too well.
Wilder studies me for a second before asking, “How bad is it?”
I exhale slowly through my nose. “Bad.”
He whistles low. “Fuck.”
Yeah. Fuck is right.
The attraction hit me the first day I met her. Most people either fear me or try too hard to impress me. Laurel did neither. She got irritated. Challenged me in meetings. Rolled her eyes at me once when she thought I didn’t see it. And every single time, it made me want her more.
There’s something dangerously addictive about a woman who doesn’t bend for you. Especially when you know exactly how good she’d look underneath you instead.
I close my eyes briefly. Big mistake. Now all I see is her flushed face in her office. Her lips parting when I leaned closer. The way her body reacted before her brain caught up. Fuck. My cock jumps painfully again.
“You’re married,” Wilder says finally, his tone more serious now.
Guilt hits instantly. Sharp and ugly.
“I know.”
“And Ms. Cross works for us.”
“I know that too.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? Because I love my wife.
I do. Jenna is a good woman. Loyal. Beautiful.
Smarter than people realize. She’s stood beside me through every disaster my father created before he died.
But somewhere along the way, things between us became…
cold. Quiet. More friendship than marriage.
I didn’t even realize how numb I’d gotten until Laurel Cross walked into my life three years ago and made me feel like a fucking animal every time she got near me.
Wilder watches me carefully. “Does Jenna know?”
“No.”
“Would she be surprised?”
If I’m honest? No. Jenna noticed Laurel the second she walked into that conference room today. I saw it in her face when she looked between us. She saw the tension immediately because it was practically choking the damn room.
“She pulled away,” I say quietly.
Wilder frowns. “What?”
“The second she saw my wedding ring, Ms. Cross pulled away.”
Understanding flashes across his face.
“Well,” he says after a beat, “that’s probably a good thing.”
I stare at the closed office door. Maybe. But it sure as fuck didn’t feel good.
Wilder sighs and scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Listen, I get it. You’ve been married to Jenna a long time, and I’m sure things get stale.” He points at me. “Just don’t fuck it up by sleeping with an employee.”
“I’m not going to sleep with her.”
“Fuck her. Whatever the hell you want to call it.” He leans back in the chair. “Just… don’t.”
I don’t answer immediately because the truth is ugly.
The truth is I haven’t wanted someone like this in years.
Maybe ever. Not just physically—though Christ knows that part’s bad enough.
It’s everything about Laurel. The way she argues with me.
The way she refuses to be intimidated. The way she walks into rooms full of powerful men and somehow becomes the most dangerous person in them.
She makes me feel restless. Wired too tight beneath my skin like I want to wreck something. Or someone.
Wilder watches me carefully. “I think you should remove yourself from this project.”
“No.”
His brows lift. “You sure about that?”
“I can handle it.”
“Can you?” He pauses deliberately. “Because from where I’m sitting, you looked about two seconds away from dragging her into your lap.”
I glare at him. “You’re exaggerating.”
“The fuck I am.”
Silence stretches between us.
Then Wilder says, “It’s the seven deadly sins, Sin.”
Something dark flickers through me.
“It’s literally designed to tempt people.” He gestures vaguely toward the hallway where Laurel’s office sits. “And now you’re flying across the country alone with a woman you clearly want.”
“I said I can handle it.”
“Yeah?” He tilts his head. “Then why are you looking at her office door like you’re thinking about kicking it open?”
Because I am. Because every instinct in me is screaming to go back down that hallway and finish whatever the hell almost happened in there.
To crowd her against that desk until she stops pretending she doesn’t want me too.
To see if she’d still argue with me while I kissed her breathless.
Jesus Christ. I shove up from my chair and stalk toward the windows overlooking downtown Chicago.
The city stretches below in steel and glass, but it does nothing to cool the heat crawling under my skin.
“I’m not going to touch her,” I say finally.
Wilder snorts softly behind me. “You keep saying that like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
My jaw tightens. He’s not wrong. That’s the problem.
Because the second Laurel looked at my wedding ring, guilt hit me hard enough to make me feel sick.
She reminded me—without saying a damn word—exactly who I’m supposed to be.
A husband. Not some asshole fantasizing about his employee bent over her desk in the middle of the workday.
“You love Jenna,” Wilder says quietly.
“I do.”
But even as I say it, Laurel’s face flashes through my mind again. Her flushed cheeks. Her sharp mouth. The way her voice shook just slightly when she said, I think you’re married. Like she hated that fact as much as I did in that moment.
Wilder exhales slowly behind me. “Then act like it.”
That one lands. Hard. Because he’s right. And I hate him for it.
A knock sounds at my office door before I can answer.
Wilder looks toward the sound and then back at me slowly. “Tell me that’s not her.”
The problem? The second I hear her voice through the door saying, “Mr. Sinclair?” Every rational thought in my goddamn head disappears.
“Come in.”
The door opens, and Laurel steps inside. Every muscle in my body immediately tightens. Fuck me.
She smiles when she notices Wilder.
“Wilder. I didn’t know you were still here.”
Before I can process what’s happening, she crosses the room and leans down to kiss the side of his cheek.
Wilder does the same to her automatically, casual as breathing.
How in the hell have I never noticed how comfortable she is with my brothers?
Wilder’s grinning at her. She’s smiling back at him.
Relaxed. Warm. Familiar. Meanwhile, she barely looks at me without turning defensive.
Jealousy twists low in my chest before I can stop it and the realization pisses me off instantly.
“You wanted something?”
The question comes out rougher than intended, enough that Laurel’s brows lift as she turns toward me. Apparently I’m not hiding my mood very well.
“Mr. Sinclair,” she says carefully, “I’d like to ask you one last time to reconsider. I can handle this project on my own.”
There’s that stubborn tilt to her chin again. The one that makes me want to argue with her just so I can watch her get worked up.
“No.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “You didn’t even think about it.”
“I already thought about it.”
“And?”
“And my answer is still no.”
She folds her arms beneath her chest, and my brain instantly betrays me by noticing exactly how that makes her blouse tighten across her big tits. Jesus Christ. Focus.
“Laurel,” Wilder says carefully, clearly sensing the tension thickening the room, “Sin’s just trying to help.”
She snorts softly. “That’s not reassuring coming from one of his brothers.”
Wilder outright laughs. Traitor.
I keep my eyes on her. “You’re not handling this project alone.”
“I’ve handled every major campaign for this company for three years.”
“And this one is different.”
“How?”
Because this one feels like you. Dangerous. Addictive. Impossible to control.