Page 15

CHAPTER 13

SLOANE

T he hotel valet barely had time to hand Logan the keys before he stepped in behind me, crowding the guy out so he had to step away. Logan’s truck—a massive, red behemoth that looked like it ate smaller cars for breakfast—idled at the curb. Logan opened the passenger door and motioned for me to get in.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” Logan said to the valet, who was still hovering close by, his eyes on my ass.

I hesitated, my hand brushing the edge of the seat as Logan’s hand appeared, firm but careful on my lower back, steadying me as I climbed in. It was unnecessary, but…nice. Too nice. It made my skin prickle.

“Is your leg okay?” I asked, realizing all this walking around might be hurting him.

“I’m good,” he said with a sunny grin.

Once he was behind the wheel, Logan threw the truck into drive, and we were off. The city lights blurred by as he maneuvered through traffic with the confidence of someone who thought stop signs were suggestions. His hand rested casually on the steering wheel, but his eyes—those sharp, unrelenting, beautiful eyes—kept flicking to me every couple of seconds.

“So,” he started, his voice light but probing. “Where are you from originally?”

“Here and there,” I said, keeping my tone breezy, but also not wanting to talk about my childhood. At all.

“Hmmm.” He shot me a grin, his teeth white and wicked. “All right, Ms. Mysterious. Favorite food?”

“Depends on the day,” I said.

“Okay. What about music?” he pressed. “What makes you sing in the shower?”

“Again, it depends.”

“You’re killing me here,” he said with a laugh, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers. “Fine. What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re not busy?”

I opened my mouth to avoid the question…but my mouth had a different idea, apparently. “I paint,” I mumbled, crossing my arms and leaning back in my seat because for some reason that admission felt as vulnerable as if I was standing in front of him naked.

“What kind of painting?” he asked…actually sounding interested. He was holding my hand again, his fingers intertwined with mine like he was trying to make sure I didn’t run away.

“Oil and watercolor,” I answered, shifting in my seat uncomfortably.

“Well, I can’t wait to see something you’ve painted. We can hang them all over our house.”

I scoffed, trying to ignore the utter panic that came with not only his words…but showing him something as personal as my paintings, and tried to pull my hand away. “You didn’t just say that.”

He grinned at me unrepentantly. “I’m going to say a lot of things like that. So prepare yourself.”

“This is all part of your master plan to make me fall in love with you?” I asked sarcastically.

He laughed softly and winked before turning back to the road. “You’re catching on, Calloway. Has it worked yet?”

I scoffed and tried to bite back a smile, but it came out anyway, like he had some kind of magic that could pull them out of me when no one else ever could.

We pulled into the valet of a fancy steakhouse, and my stomach grumbled. Steak happened to be my favorite food. Logan handed the keys off, but not before making sure the valet didn’t look at me for too long. His hand found the small of my back again as he guided me through the entrance, his grip light but steady.

It almost seemed like he was proud to be seen with me.

That was strange. Not just strange…it was weird. I wasn’t used to it—being walked into a place like this, in the open, no hesitation. Where was the catch? The order that I come in from the back? The rules about keeping my head down and not making eye contact?

The hockey game had been weird enough in that Tyler had been acknowledging me in public…but this felt different. This felt like more…

As we entered, heads turned, and I shifted uncomfortably. But they weren’t looking at me. They were looking at him .

And I didn’t blame them. Logan was a sight to behold. Even if he hadn’t been an up-and-coming sports star, there was something about him—a magnetism that was hard to look away from.

He glanced down at me, a small smile on his lips. I wanted to lash out, to tell him to stop staring at me like that—like I was the center of his universe. I could feel it radiating off him, that quiet pride, and it made my stomach twist.

The hostess greeted him with a bright smile, one that faded as she watched him let go of my hand and instead wrap his arm around my waist so I was glued to his side. Logan gave her our reservation name, and then he kept me close as we were led through the maze of tables to our seat near the window that looked out on the whole city.

“Do you like it here?” he asked once we were settled. His voice was soft, uncertain, like he cared way too much about the answer.

“It’s good,” I said, trying to sound casual.

His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Good? That sounds like ‘fine.’ We can go somewhere else if you don’t like it. Seriously. I just guessed, but I should have asked. You probably don’t even like steak. Fuck.”

I blinked at him, thrown by how earnest he was. “It’s fine, I promise,” I said, more firmly this time.

“Fine isn’t good enough,” he said, almost pouting. “We’ll go somewhere else. What do you like? Italian? Sushi? We can get tacos. Do you like tacos? Ari has this one taco place that he drags us to all the time.”

I stared at him, trying to reconcile the big, intense guy who just moments ago was smirking like he ruled the world with the one now babbling about tacos like a golden retriever desperate to please.

“It’s perfect,” I said, my voice soft because the bastard was ripping through my defenses like they were made of paper. “I like it here. Steak is my favorite.”

His grin instantly returned, bright and easy. “You just told me something else about you.” He did a fist pump in the air, and a small giggle escaped my lips.

“Fuck, that’s my new favorite sound.”

I blushed at the look in his eyes.

And for a second, I forgot how strange this all was. I forgot the rules, the walls…the constant need to be on guard. In that moment, with his eyes shining as he stared at me like he’d found everything he’d been looking for in life, it felt like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a trap.

But then again, in my experience, things that felt too good to be true always were.

* * *

Dinner with Logan was going perfectly. I could barely eat because I was so caught up in listening to him, in looking at him…in just being with him.

He was smiling across the table, saying something about the game, and I caught myself smiling back.

“Sorry, I have to use the restroom,” he said a few minutes later, a slight blush to his cheeks, like he was embarrassed.

It was adorable.

“I’ll be right back.” He slid out of the booth before turning back to me. “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” I murmured, surprised at how much I meant those two words.

“Good,” he said, a hint of that cockiness leaking into his voice. “Because I would find you.”

With those…interesting…words, he headed to the hall with the bathrooms.

The second he was out of sight, I felt it—a shift in the air. My stomach tightened, and before I could even look around, I heard a voice that I dreaded.

“Sloane Calloway. If it isn’t my lucky day.”

The voice sent a cold shiver down my spine. I didn’t have to look to know who it was—Charles Spiker. A rich financier…and one of my regulars. My stomach rolled at the memory of the last time I’d seen him, his old, shriveled dick down my throat as he pounded into me.

I hadn’t been able to swallow normally for a week.

I forced myself to glance up, and there he was.

Charles’s hair was steel gray, combed back with too much product, because he thought it made him look distinguished. The navy suit he wore was expensive, but even the finest craftsmanship couldn’t disguise the paunch straining against the buttons of his shirt or the way the fabric pulled awkwardly over his midsection.

His eyes—small, watery, and too close together—raked over me with a lecherous intensity that made my skin crawl. His gaze lingered far too long, his lips curling into a smile that was more predatory than polite. There was a shine on his forehead, the kind that spoke of too many martinis and too little shame, and his cologne was heavy enough to choke a horse.

“Charles,” I said quietly, my voice steady. It had disappeared, that glittery, light feeling I’d been experiencing only moments before. The familiar numbness was seeping back into me.

He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my breasts.

I wanted to disappear.

“You look stunning, as always,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ll be contacting you soon for a little… meetup . I know how much you enjoyed last time.”

His words dripped with suggestion, and I felt like I’d been punched. My throat tightened, and the best I could do was muster up a blank look as a wave of disgust washed over me. Why men like him pretended they were doing me a favor by fucking me—I’d never understand.

They were all unequivocally terrible in bed.

It was a good reminder, though. This was my life. Whatever Logan said, whatever Logan did…it wasn’t real.

I had a stained soul. I’d traded it at eighteen.

You didn’t come back from that.

I’d never be clean again.

Charles chuckled softly when I didn’t respond, his gaze flickering over my shoulder as he straightened up. “You can try to pretend you’re something else tonight, but we both know the truth, don’t we?” He smirked, and with one final look, he turned and walked away.

I exhaled shakily, my heart pounding. A bead of sweat slid down my forehead, and I hastily wiped it away, wishing there was a way to wipe away my worthlessness at the same time.

Logan returned a few minutes later, sliding back into his seat with that easy smile. “You didn’t leave.” He sounded relieved, and once again I had an insane urge. I wanted to pick up my mashed potatoes and throw them at him, because there was no way he was for real.

You shouldn’t play cruel jokes on people who are already broken.

It never went well.

I tried to smile, but my face felt stiff. “Yep. Still here.” And as an afterthought, I added, “What you’re paying me for.”

He frowned at that, his eyes flicking to where Charles had been standing moments ago. “Who was that?”

My gaze dropped to the table. He’d seen.

My stomach knotted, and I felt the heat of shame crawl up my neck. “No one,” I finally muttered, picking up my glass of water, hoping the cool liquid would calm down whatever was happening inside me.

Logan didn’t press it, but the magic that had been there before he left was gone. The rest of the dinner felt strained, the conversation awkward and stilted. Logan tried to pull me back into the moment, asking questions, making light jokes, but I couldn’t focus. I was too in my head, too wrapped up in this familiar, sick feeling.

Logan noticed. I could see it in the way his smile faded, the way his eyes darkened with concern, but he didn’t push. He didn’t ask again. He just watched me, and the weight of his gaze made me feel even worse.

By the time dessert came, I was barely touching my food, my thoughts spinning in a thousand directions. I felt like I was slipping, like the ground was crumbling beneath me, and no matter how hard I tried to hold on, it wasn’t enough.

I was never going to be enough.

* * *

LOGAN

The second I saw him standing at the table and the scary blankness on Sloane’s face as she looked at him, I’d known something was wrong.

I didn’t have to be a genius to guess what had happened. She’d had a run-in with a former client…I said former because, obviously, he was never going to be a client again.

Dallas was huge, but Charles Spiker was a known entity around town. His law firm was actually one of the sponsors for the team.

And I was about to ruin him.

I texted Lincoln’s PI on the way to the table.

Charles Spiker. Find me something on him. Anything.

I sat back down at the table, trying to cajole Sloane out of the shell she’d crawled into, but her walls were up. All the easy conversation from before I’d gone to the restroom was gone.

I cursed my bladder.

And then my phone buzzed.

Spiker’s dirty. Skimming from his law firm. Offshore account in the Bahamas. I’ll send you the details.

I stared at the message, a small grin spreading across my face.

Sloane was picking at her apple crumble when Spiker finally got up from his table, a cocky swagger in his walk as he headed toward the restroom.

“I’ll be right back,” I told her, remembering to shoot her a reassuring smile before I left the table.

Not that she was looking at me.

I followed Spiker into the bathroom, my pulse steady but the rage simmering underneath as I clicked the lock closed on the door.

He was at the sink, adjusting his cufflinks. I glanced at the stalls, making sure we were alone before I came up behind him. He caught my reflection in the mirror, and his eyes widened.

“Logan York? Well I’ll be. Heck of a game the other night?—”

That was the last thing he said before I grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the mirror. The glass cracked with the impact, shards splintering across the sink as he let out a strangled grunt. Before he could react, I shoved him toward the nearest stall, his body crashing against the door.

“What the hell—” he cried in a garbled voice.

I didn’t answer. I kicked the stall door open and slammed him into the toilet, forcing his head down into the water with a sickening splash. He struggled, thrashing under my grip, but I kept him down, his hands slipping on the slick porcelain as he tried to push back. His muffled shouts echoed in the stall, but I didn’t let up.

“You made a mistake tonight, Spiker. Coming near what’s mine,” I growled as I lifted his head for a second, enjoying his gasping breaths before I forced his head deeper, his feet kicking uselessly against the floor.

He gurgled, trying to scream, but it only came out in choked gasps as water filled his mouth. I yanked him up by his hair, his face dripping and pale, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

“You don’t get to touch her. You don’t even get to look at her,” I hissed, my fingers tightening in his hair before slamming his head into the side of the stall again. His skull made a dull, wet thud as he cried out, his body slumping against the toilet.

“Fucking hell!” He coughed, blood running down his face now, mixing with the water. “You’re insane!”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I snapped, pulling him back up. His hand scrambled against my arm, trying to stop me, but I grabbed it, twisting it behind him. His scream ripped through the small space, sharp and desperate.

“Please,” he cried. “What do you want?”

I smiled darkly. “I already have everything I need. You’ve been skimming money from your partners. Offshore accounts. You’ve got some dirty little secrets, don’t you, Charles?”

His eyes widened, real fear creeping in. “I—what—how do you?—”

I slammed his hand into the toilet tank, the bone crunching under the pressure as he screamed again. “13948209. That’s your account in the Bahamas, right?”

His face went white as a sheet, blood pooling from his nose, his eyes wild with panic. “Fuck,” he moaned, clutching his broken hand to his chest. “How do you know about that?”

“I know everything.” I crouched down, gripping his hair again, pulling his face up to meet mine. “Now, here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to forget Sloane. You’re going to pretend she doesn’t exist. If you ever talk to her again, or even think about her, I’ll make sure your little law buddies know exactly what you’ve been doing. I’ll blow up your entire life, and you’ll be finished. Got it?”

He whimpered, tears mixing with the blood on his face. “Okay,” he gasped. “Okay, I’ll—I’ll leave her alone. Please, just—stop.”

I let go of his hair, standing up and looking down at the pathetic mess of him crumpled on the bathroom floor. “You don’t get another warning. You come near her again, and you’ll lose more than your hand. I’ll take everything from you.”

He didn’t respond, just rocked back and forth on the floor, cradling his broken hand, his face twisted in pain and terror. I stepped over him, my jaw tight, my fists still clenched.

“And the same thing goes if you say anything about this to anyone. Clean yourself up and leave out the fire exit.”

“Okay. I promise. Please,” he cried, looking nothing like the smug asshole he’d been just minutes earlier.

I washed my hands and then walked out of the bathroom, the sounds of his whimpers fading behind me.

Sloane finally looked up at me when I got to the table…and then her eyes widened. “Are you all right? There’s blood on your shirt.”

Oops.

I glanced down and saw that some of Charles’s nasty blood had splattered onto my shirt. I’d have to burn it later.

“Just a hangnail,” I told her reassuringly, holding my finger up for a second before I quickly put it under the table so she couldn’t look closer. “Are you going to eat any more of that?” I nodded at the still-full bowl of dessert.

“I’m full,” she lied, biting down on her plump, red lipstick-stained lower lip. “But everything was delicious,” she quickly added, like she didn’t want me to think she was ungrateful.

“I’ll get it boxed up, and you can have it later,” I told her, watching as her eyes softened for a moment at my gesture.

After I paid, I grabbed her hand again and started leading her out of the restaurant. She tried to pull her hand away, but I wasn’t having any of that. As we passed the table where Charles’s companions were—and he wasn’t there—her shoulders relaxed.

What a fucker. I should have drowned him in that toilet. The only consolation I had was not only were his hand and nose broken…but there’d been urine in the toilet water I’d dunked him in.

Disgusting…but excellent.

“What’s your address?” I asked her when we got back into the truck.

“What?” she asked, looking adorably confused. “We’re not going back to the hotel?”

“It’s our first date. I’m going to take you to your front door and kiss you again. Then I’m going to leave. It’s a Circle of Trust policy to not sleep with someone on a first date.”

A complete lie. But it was a policy for me tonight.

She gaped at me and blinked a few times before she had a response. “What’s a Circle of Trust?”

I shook my head as I pulled away from the curb. “You have so much to learn,” I said dramatically.

Her answering giggle was everything I could hope for.

The drive was quiet after she gave me her address, and I could tell by the pensive way she was staring out the window that she was deep in thought. We got to her very nice condominium complex, and I got out and walked around to open her door.

“You don’t have to walk me up,” she told me quickly, and I took the opportunity to smooth a piece of hair behind her ear…and then quickly kissed her.

“This is how first dates work, Calloway,” I told her, and she may or may not have swooned from me saying that.

Sloane obviously needed love; every little thing I did, she soaked up like she was a dying, dry land getting its first drop of rain. I couldn’t wait to give her everything she wanted and more.

I grabbed her hand as we walked into the high rise, my dick hardening at the shy, wondrous look she gave me.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, the words blurting out of me because in that moment, I was more confident than ever that there wasn’t a more stunning creature on the planet.

Sloane yanked her gaze away, concentrating on her fancy lobby like her life depended on it. “There you go again,” she whispered. “Acting crazy.”

I grinned and kissed the top of her head. “Get used to it.”

We got into the elevator, and Sloane punched in a code to get up to her floor—which I, of course, memorized—and the doors opened up into a condo that screamed money. Sleek lines, marble countertops, and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a killer view of the city. But amid the magazine-perfect décor, I soaked in the few little personal touches. There was a cozy throw blanket draped over the pristine leather couch and a stack of well-worn books on the coffee table. Glancing around, I spotted a small collection of framed photos on a shelf—most of them black-and-white shots of places around the world, but there was one of a little girl, grinning wide and holding a puppy in her arms.

“Nice place,” I told her, genuinely meaning it. She had taste—even if I didn’t want to think about how she had so much money.

I pretended to look around. “Any pets? Roommates?”

“It’s just me,” she said with a shrug that I could see right through. My girl was lonely.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” she asked.

I wanted to…more than anything, actually. I wanted to walk around this whole place and learn all I could about her. But I was trying to prove a point tonight—that I was in this for more than sex.

So I was going to have to pass.

The fact that I would be coming back tonight after she’d fallen asleep wasn’t something we needed to discuss.

“Not tonight, baby,” I told her.

“Ah-yes, still holding to that little rule of yours.”

“Yes.” I grinned. “I’m very proper about these things.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “How are second dates, though? What are your rules for that?”

I pretended to think it over. “Only one rule for that one, really,” I told her.

“And what is that?”

“That they happen tomorrow, any free second we have.”

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. “That’s quite the rule.”

“No games between us,” I told her as I pulled her close and brushed a soft kiss against her lips.

“No games,” she whispered, staring at me with that same wide-eyed disbelief she’d had the entire night.

“Give me your phone,” I told her in a rough voice, because I was so turned on, it was hard to talk…or think. And I really needed to get this last thing done.

“What? Why?” she asked, her eyes a little dazed as we separated.

“I’m going to put my number in your phone and text myself so I have your number.”

“Oh, right,” she said, pulling out her phone and handing it to me after she punched in her code. That was a good sign, she was much more trusting than I thought she’d be. I was starting to wear her down. “I’m sorry about this…”

“About what?” I asked as I quickly pulled up the app Ari had sent me that I could use to track her phone.

“Being so awkward. I’m not usually like this,” she told me, wringing her hands in front of her nervously as she searched my face. “It’s just?—”

“What, baby?”

“This is a first for me—dating. Even if it’s not really dating because you’re paying…” She was rambling, and it was adorable.

I typed in my number and saved it as Boyfriend before texting myself. “It’s definitely a date,” I corrected her after I finished. “And this ‘situation’ between us…is only going to be temporary. You’re going to fall in love with me. It’s only a matter of time,” I told her with a smirk. “I always get what I want. It’s a trademark of mine.”

She scoffed, and I watched as a dark thought flitted through her head and the humor in her eyes faded.

“It won’t happen this time, Logan,” she whispered in a solemn, devastated voice. “I promise I’m something you won’t win.”

I brought her close again and tipped up her chin so she had to look at me. “Why not, Sloane? Why not give me a chance?”

Sloane searched my face, her deep blue eyes glistening with emotion.

“I made a vow to myself that someday, no one was ever going to control me,” she said. “That someday, I would be the captain of my own destiny.” Her lower lip quivered, and my hands squeezed at my sides knowing that she needed to get this out. “So you might be the most beautiful man that I’ve ever seen. And you might say the prettiest words I’ve ever heard come out of a guy’s mouth.” She brushed a piece of hair out of her face and straightened her shoulders. I could see the decision in her eyes before the words had even come out of her red-stained lips. “What I’m trying to say…is that I may give you my body. I may be the best fuck you’ve ever had in your life. You might even start to think that you’re in love with me. But that would be a mistake, Logan York.” She paused, her tongue peeking out to lick her bottom lip slowly. “Because I’m never going to give you my heart. That would just be another form of controlling me. And I could never do that.”

I stared at her for a second, a slow grin sliding across my lips. I leaned forward and pressed a hard, long kiss on her mouth, not pulling back until her skin was flushed and her breath was coming out in gasps. “We’ll see about that.”

With that promise, I headed toward the elevators. “See you tomorrow,” I told her as I stepped through the doors and winked as they began to close.

My last glimpse of her was her shell-shocked face.

At least until the elevator was descending and I could pull up the app on my phone. Then I was able to look at her through the camera as she stood there, holding the phone in her hand and staring at the doors.

I kept the app up for the entire drive back to my place, listening as she watched TV and then got ready for bed.

Later, I listened to her breathing as I drove back to her building after I was sure she’d fallen asleep.

* * *

I parked the truck a block away from Sloane’s place, cutting the engine and leaning back in the seat. The neighborhood was quiet, the kind of silence that comes late at night when the world’s finally asleep.

Turning the volume up on my phone, I listened to the reassuring sound of her sleeping. I’d gotten lucky she slept with the phone by her bed.

But I’d always been a lucky kind of guy.

I glanced at the clock on the dash—just past midnight.

An hour passed, and I stared at the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. My knuckles still throbbed from the encounter with Charles, and so did my knee, and I absently opened and closed my fist, trying to work the soreness out as I waited to ensure Sloane was into the deep sleep part of her night.

When I was sure enough time had passed, I stepped out of the truck and headed toward the doors. They were locked. Fuck. I hadn’t thought about that. I glanced around, spotting a keypad next to the glass, and I held my breath as I typed in her elevator code.

The door clicked open, and I grinned. Perfect—although I’d have to talk to her about increasing her safety measures after we were officially together. Getting into her place should not be this easy.

I made my way to the elevator and typed in her code again, anxious adrenaline throbbing through my veins.

Like always.

Fun fact, Asher and I had been hellions growing up, and something we had liked to do—break into places for the fun of it. There’d been an asshole in our high school, Peter, who we both despised. We’d spent a summer sneaking into his house and leaving things in his room to scare him—like dead birds—and we’d never gotten caught.

I hadn’t done anything like that in a long time, but years of breaking and entering were certainly coming in handy right now.

The elevator doors opened to her dark condo, the only light coming from the soft glow of the outside city lights filtering through the windows.

For a moment, I just stood there in the entry, listening. I could hear the hum of the fridge, the occasional creak of the building settling. But no movement. No sound from anywhere else.

After a few more minutes, I began moving through the living room quietly, my steps careful and controlled. I probably should have asked for a tour before doing this so I knew where everything was, but I’d had to make a point with her—that I wanted this for the long term, not just for the night.

Coming inside and inevitably ending up in bed would have been the opposite of that.

Although it would have been very useful right now.

A quick glance through the first door in the hallway and I saw a home gym. The second room was completely empty. The third room…jackpot.

Peeking through the cracked door, I saw Sloane, seemingly fast asleep, her body curled under the blanket, her breathing gentle and steady. The soft light from the windows illuminated her just enough to outline her features, casting delicate shadows across her face.

Fuck. She looked ethereal right now. Without much light, her hair was a cascade of dark silk, spilling out over the pillow, framing features that seemed almost too perfect to be real—sharp cheekbones, long lashes that rested lightly on her cheeks, and lips slightly parted, like she was waiting to be kissed. The faint rise and fall of her chest gave her an almost fragile serenity. I cocked my head, still studying her. It was an interesting thing that even in sleep, there was something untouchable about her, like she belonged to another world entirely.

Tiptoeing across the room, I made my way to a chair in the corner and sat down. Leaning back, my eyes locked on her sleeping form.

There was something calming about watching her like this, something that made the rest of the world fall away. She looked so vulnerable, so delicate, and it only fueled the possessiveness in me.

I didn’t move. I just sat there, watching her breathe, listening to the soft rise and fall of her chest…trying to make excuses for why I’d turned into a raging psychopath since I’d seen her.

Was that what love was? Absolute lunacy, where nothing you did made sense? It would explain why my parents had been such a miserable mess—my mom had married my dad for money, and my dad had married her because she was pregnant. If they’d loved each other, everything would have been different.

What I was feeling didn’t feel like love, though. It felt darker. It was a need thrumming through my insides, blocking out all rational thought. It was a need to own her, to devour her, to carve her into my skin…

Into my soul, maybe.

My dick was throbbing in my jeans, and the more I stared at her…the harder it got.

Until I came, right there in my pants. A low groan seeped out of my mouth as pleasure licked across my skin.

Fuck.

Sloane whimpered as she stirred, and I tensed, prepared to throw myself onto the floor if her eyes opened.

A minute later, though, her breath evened out, and I could sit back in the chair.

I kept watching her.

My pants would dry, but everything else about me was never going to be the same.

Sloane Calloway was mine.