Page 14 of Scorned Beauty (Scorned Fate #5)

When I arrived in Hoboken, it took me another half an hour to find parking.

I was gritting my molars so hard because Sloane’s location showed she was on her way back to the apartment.

When I finally squeezed my sports car between a Dodge sedan and a pickup, I hustled over to her street and watched her dot move, thankful for the traffic slowing her down.

It was a chilly night, but I was steaming in my suit and overcoat. I loosened my tie and blended into the shadows in front of Sloane’s building. I glared at my phone, specifically at her location dot approaching.

A white sedan pulled up beside the space by the fire hydrant in my line of sight. I could tell there were two people in the back of the vehicle.

The fucker stepped out to the traffic side first. He tried to round the vehicle quickly to help Sloane out, but she didn’t wait for him. When he put his hand on the small of her back, the muscle beneath my left eye started twitching.

I was done watching.

I emerged from my stakeout position and crossed the street, my eyes still glaring at the hand on her back. They must have seen my rapidly advancing figure reflected on the glass door because they stopped and turned my way.

My eyes narrowed at the coat over Sloane’s shoulders. It was a man’s coat. His coat.

“Dom, what are you doing here?”

“I texted you, baby,” I replied.

The fucker had the sense to drop his hand from Sloane’s back, but was an idiot not to move aside. “I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“I don’t,” Sloane replied instantly. “Dom is the cousin of one of my best friends.”

I raised my brow at Sloane. I derived fleeting amusement from the awkward way she tried to explain who I was to her. She could hardly say friends with benefits now, could she? Although at this moment, I was more frenemy with benefits. I was definitely more than a hookup or a fuck buddy.

But Phil’s next words sent my already simmering temper skyrocketing. “Is he harassing you?”

I erased the space between us and snarled into his face. “Fucker?—”

Sloane grabbed my arm to yank me away, practically shoving me inside the building as she muttered breathlessly, “I’m sorry, Phil. No, he’s not harassing me, but I got this.”

“You sure?” He followed us inside.

“Yes.”

He was lucky my need to pound into Sloane was stronger than my need to pound him into the wall. Searing possessiveness entangled itself inside me, locking muscle and sinew. Possessiveness wanted to explode out of my skin. And with the way Sloane was clinging to my arm, she was sensing it too.

I frequently diffused tense situations, not caused them. I watched over people who I considered family. Sloane was an outlier, an undefined entity, because the urge to say “fuck it” was overwhelming.

Instead of giving in to planting my fist in Phil’s face, I whipped his coat off her shoulders and shoved it at him. “I believe this is yours.”

He shot me a glare, and I returned it with a smug smile.

I even felt a little sorry for the prick.

He must have paid for the ride and the drinks, but I was the one going up to Sloane’s apartment.

I fell back behind her, just because I didn’t like how short her skirt was, and Phil was still at the bottom of the staircase.

I didn’t want him seeing up her skirt.

She dressed up for him?

Wait. Did he already put his hand up her skirt?

“You have some nerve,” Sloane muttered when he was out of earshot. “Showing up here just because you think I reneged on our agreement.”

“You were ignoring my texts.”

Sloane laughed without a measure of mirth. “And you? I didn’t hear from you for weeks.”

There were two more floors before I stripped her naked, or maybe I was gonna spank her first.

“And you sent that picture to get my attention?”

“That colossal ego of yours is like the size of an overgrown tumor.” She muttered the words under her breath and stomped up the steps ahead of me. Just a little more defiance, Firecat. You’re getting me so hard.

Sloane unlocked the door and walked in. With the way she disappeared into the bathroom and slammed its door, she was as furious as I was.

The water started running.

“Sloane.”

“Would you give me a minute, you fucking jackass.”

The edge and irritation in her voice sent warning bells through me that the evening wasn’t gonna end in cathartic angry sex. I sensed these things. There was zero sexual tension coming from Sloane. In fact, it was like she was done with me.

In retrospect, and if I was thinking like a sane person, she had more reason to be pissed at me because I kinda ghosted her.

Kinda…because we had no expectations of each other.

And from what I’d learned about Sloane so far, she was a practical girl.

No nonsense. This woman wasn’t pining for any man.

I waited patiently for the water to stop running. Was she showering in there?

When she finally came out, I was leaning against the wall.

“You could have waited for me in the living room.” She made a feeble gesture with her arm.

“I’m fine right here.” My eyes studied her. Why didn’t I notice her pinched expression earlier? Because you were all about your outrage, asshole. “Did you get sick?”

“No,” she groaned. She was still wearing her tall boots and shuffled to the couch and plopped on top of it, falling sideways, burying her face in a pillow. Ginger immediately jumped up, but Sloane pushed the cat away. “At least not from the alcohol.”

“What is it, Sloane?”

“I’m feeling nauseous,” she whimpered, drawing her legs into herself in a semi-fetal position.

A chill crawled up my spine, and I walked toward her like I was approaching a coiled cobra. “Are you pregnant?”

Might as well get that question out of the way, no matter how the thought made my erection deflate and my balls retract.

She laughed into the pillow. “No, jerk, I got my period. The cramps are killing me.”

“Oh.” Relief swept through me and the weakening in my limbs made sitting down a good idea.

As I sank into the couch, I thought of a sympathetic response to say.

Somehow, saying I don’t mind period sex would come off as insensitive, even as a joke.

I had a partner before tell me sex helped with cramps.

I didn’t mind messy. I didn’t mind blood.

But I did mind when a woman was uncomfortable with it, and judging by how pale Sloane’s lips were, she would feel better sleeping it off.

There was an overwhelming need to make her feel better.

I wasn’t down about leaving her alone, especially when I’d decided to spend the night with her.

“You’re not getting sex tonight.”

“I’m getting that,” I clipped. How dare she think I would be so selfish with my needs when clearly she was in pain? I wanted a woman to enjoy sex. I might not be husband or boyfriend material, but if we were talking about ego, I prided myself on giving a lady pleasure first.

She snorted. “I should have ended it with you right outside if I didn’t think doing it in front of Phil would bruise your outsized ego.”

She was ending it? Whatever it was?

“We’re not talking about this right now.”

“I don’t care,” she said and shifted with difficulty on the couch.

My mind was contemplating on what to do next, and since I was still wearing my overcoat, I walked back to the pegs right beside the entrance to figure out my next moves.

After she realized I wasn’t leaving, she croaked, “What are you doing?”

“It looks like you need help.” I folded my suit jacket over the couch.

“I’m fine. Just go,” she groaned. “Let’s just end this now. It’s a sign.”

“Fuck your sign,” I snapped. “I’m not leaving you here while you’re in pain.”

“It’s not the first time. This will pass overnight. I just need to sleep it off.”

“Well, you don’t look comfortable. Should you transfer to the bed?”

“It’s a new mattress. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“Dom!”

“You can’t kick me out,” I said with determination. “I’m staying and taking care of you.”