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Lost to the ecstasy of Sloane’s skillful mouth on hers, Ari’s body vibrated. She needed more. More contact. More of Sloane. Without breaking their kiss, Ari fumbled with Sloane’s fancy belt. Her inability to find the clasp cost her the upper hand. Sloane pushed Ari’s thighs apart before she could undo her pants.

“I really hate pantyhose,” Sloane protested with a groan against her lips.

Before Ari could regain the advantage, Sloane scratched her inner thigh, tearing through the thin material. Throwing her head back, Ari reveled in the sensation of Sloane’s animalistic destruction.

“Fuck,” Sloane whimpered, running her fingers over the soaked fabric keeping them from direct contact. “You’re so wet.”

The pained desire in Sloane’s voice was intoxicating. Ari grabbed her hand, pressing it harder against, certain the slightest friction would be enough to ease the throbbing ache.

“Sloane,” their secretary’s voice blared over the intercom on the o ce phone.

Breaking their kiss, Ari stared at Sloane trying not to panic. Did someone hear us? Do they know what we’re doing?

Heat and shame tore through her. Sloane, however, looked completely unconcerned as if her clothes weren’t rumpled and her hair and makeup weren’t a sexy mess.

“Yes,” she replied calmly, her eyes still trained on Ari’s lips like they were the prize at the end of an obstacle course.

“O cer Kaminski is here,” he explained. “He said he’s been waiting fifteen minutes. You were supposed to meet him downstairs to go over some things before trial.”

Sloane grimaced before cursing under her breath. “Please ask him to have a seat in the conference room and I’ll be right with him,” she replied calmly.

When the intercom switched o , Sloane glanced down at her torn garment and licked her lips. “I’m not sorry,” she declared as if Ari was wondering.

“Well, you’re a jerk, so that checks out,” Ari countered, sliding o the desk and praying her wobbly legs could bear her weight.

CHAPTER 24

SITTING in her car unable to leave the o ce parking garage, Ari stared at her cupholder. More specifically the balled up torn pantyhose stu ed inside.

What the actual hell happened today?

The more she thought about it, the more panic rose in her throat. Ari leaned against the headrest. She didn’t dare close her eyes. Every time she did, she was consumed by the memory of Sloane, the taste of her still on her lips, her body still tingling where she’d touched her. She was marked, like the angry marks left after a jelly fish sting. Running her fingertips over her mouth, Ari could still feel Sloane’s kiss and smell her perfume all over her clothes.

After an hour, Sloane still hadn’t come o the elevator.

She hadn’t strode toward her car in the navy-blue suit that gave her that cold, poised look Ari found so irresistible.

Defeated, Ari turned the key in the ignition and after its usual stall, started her car and began her journey home.

When highway tra c stopped as she neared the airport, Ari watched a plane take o and wondered where it was going.

She pictured a passenger staring down at the rush hour

parking lot grateful to be hundreds of feet above the congestion.

The image of Sloane’s smudged lipstick hit her like a truck. Desire throbbed through her body again, but this time it was tinged with fright.

Kissing Sloane was better than she’d ever imagined. In all the times she’d been kissed in her life, no one had ever robbed her of her ability to think or breathe.

But a new memory was forming. Sloane had messed with her before. Flirted with her to get a reaction or as part of some head game.

Ari’s stomach sank as it soured. After years of rivalry, she just didn’t trust Sloane. They’d crossed too many lines, attacked each other too often and without provocation.

By the time she traveled a dozen miles in an hour and pulled into her apartment complex, Ari was exhausted from overthinking. Fear had squeezed every ounce of exhilaration from the afternoon mauling. She was left with the severe sinking feeling that it could never work. That Sloane was a fast-track to jeopardizing her career at the prosecutor’s o ce . . . and her heart.

Ari grabbed her shredded pantyhose before getting out of the car. As she passed the dumpster area on the edge of the parking lot, she tossed them away along with her hopes.

WHEN SLOANE FINISHED her meeting with the cop, she was hoping to find Arwyn waiting in the o ce. Not only was she gone, but she’d cleaned up the scene of the crime. All the