Page 13 of Save Me (The Wolf Hotel Mermaid Beach #2)

I weave my sleek black car up the pothole-riddled driveway.

It’s five minutes to six, and my palms are sweating.

I haven’t been nervous to meet a girl since …

I can’t remember when. But Sloane never responded to my text, and I have no idea what’s waiting for me here.

I don’t kn ow if she’s playing hard to get or avoiding me.

I pray it’s the former. I’m up for a good chase.

Her Cherokee is here. That’s a good sign.

So is Frank’s pickup.

I park next to it and climb out, adjusting the collar of a clean dress shirt. I go through at least two a day in this heat.

The hens are busy grazing on feed in their coop, but Ralph wanders nearby, watching with those beady little bird eyes.

“Not today, motherfucker.” I pull out the carrot I sent Archie to grab from the hotel kitchen, snapping it up into bits and tossing them toward the trailers—and away from my freshly washed hood.

He scuttles after the bright orange chunks.

The sound of a door creaking draws my attention to the house and the figure standing on the porch.

Damn . All I can do is stare.

For too long, I guess, because Sloane starts to fidget.

“Does this work for your dinner thing?” Her toned arm stretches as she pinches the skirt, drawing the gauzy pink material away from her body.

I can’t decide where to look first—on the slit that shows off her shapely legs, the plunging neckline that hints at those perky breasts, her delicate shoulders, the tendrils of ash-blond hair that cascade down her back in loose curls.

Finally, I land on her mesmerizing face. “You match the hotel color scheme.” The fuck if I know if that’s the right shade of pink, and that was probably a stupid thing to say .

She falters. “That wasn’t my goal.”

Yup. Stupid. “You’re perfect.” She’s more than perfect. She’s a vision.

Her eyes drift over my midnight-blue shirt and gray pants—tailored to my body as everything in my closet is quickly becoming—but she doesn’t say anything.

“If I step away from my car, will he shit on it?” He’s halfway through his treats.

“Fifty-fifty chance.”

“I guess I’ll risk it.” I close the distance to the porch as Sloane slides her purse strap over her shoulder and takes the steep set of stairs down in delicate gold sandals that show off dainty feet.

Even her feet are sexy. Her back is bare save for two thin dress straps that crisscross down.

There’s so much exposed skin, and my fingers itch to touch every square inch of it. “Where is everyone?”

“Frank’s out for a swim. No one else is home yet.”

I’m two feet away when I catch the first waft of her perfume. I inhale deeply. “God, you smell good.” I step in closer and inhale again. “What is that?” It’s like salty ocean air mixed with a spicy floral. It’s intoxicating, but everything about Sloane makes my blood roil.

“Just a perfume from Gigi.” She lifts her chin in defiance. “So we’re clear, we’re not having sex tonight.”

I school my expression. “Okay.”

“I mean it, Ronan.”

“So do I. And honestly, it’s probably the best thing I’ve heard all day.” Between Abbi and her pastries and Belinda ambushing me, eliminating sex from the equation is smart. If I have to deal with my frustrations in the shower later, so be it .

Sloane’s curious frown has me chuckling.

“Long story, and you don’t want to hear the details. I’m just happy you showed up. I expected to find you in a bikini again.”

“I was considering it.”

“And I was getting ready to beg.”

“Wait. You said ‘convince’ yesterday. But if watching you beg is an option, I’ll be back in a sec. I just need to change …” She takes a step back, up one stair, putting her at eye level with me.

I slide my hand around her nape, keeping her in place. Silky strands of hair tickle my fingers. “We don’t have time for games now, but I’ll be happy to play later.” Though I’ll be the one helping her get this dress off.

Soulful jade eyes peer into mine. A heavy, worried look clung to them yesterday. Now … I’m not sure what I’m seeing there.

“Better day today?” I whisper.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know.” Her gaze drops downward, to my mouth.

I can’t hold back any longer. I lean in and kiss her, first tentatively, my lips grazing hers, the tip of my tongue tracing the seam of her mouth, tasting a hint of cherry from her lip gloss.

But the second she responds, I deepen it, sliding my tongue against hers in a slow-moving, intimate dance.

Screw Henry’s dinner party and my obligations; I could stand here all night, doing this .

A dull thud sounds, breaking us apart.

Her throat bobs with a hard swallow. “That was my purse.”

“I’ll get it.” I stoop down to collect the woven box before she can flinch a muscle, stalling on a sublime view of the sexy slit in her dress. It’s high—higher than I realized, reaching almost to her hip. It would take no effort to lean in and bury my face between her thighs right here.

Fuck me. I’ve changed, but not that much. This is going to be too tempting to ignore.

Her breathing is a touch ragged when I get to my feet and slide the purse strap over her shoulder.

“I really like this dress.”

“Good.” She clears her throat. “It’s staying on me tonight.”

“As it should.” I can easily work my way under it.

Her eyes narrow a touch, like she doesn’t believe me. “Right. Well … we better go. Ralph’s almost out of carrots.”

“I have more if needed.” I slip my arm around her back as we walk to the car.

This feels right.

This feels good.

Henry Wolf is not fucking this up for me.