Page 23 of The Pursuit of Happiness (Satan’s Angels #2)

He takes the last breaths of my orgasm from my mouth and when it’s over, we stare into each other’s eyes as he slowly withdraws his hand from my pants and adjusts my clothes so that I’m not exposed in any way.

I watch as whatever tension was in his shoulders from what happened with Rogan dissipates, the Slater that I know coming back. His demeanor returns to its usual state, calm and playful. I’ll admit, I like his wicked side just as much as this one.

He beams, “Do I win fake boyfriend of the year after that performance?”

I laugh, blood rushing to my cheeks, “I can’t see how you’d lose when you’re the only person in the running.”

Sly chuckles, “Good point.”

A noise sounds from the end of the hallway and our heads both whip in that direction immediately, both of us on alert.

Did someone see us? Embarrassment floods my features and rises from the depths of my stomach up to my chest, squeezing my heart in its cold, black hands.

I shove Sly away from me to put distance between us as quickly as possible, not wanting whoever that is to see us together, to assume I just came on Sly’s hand in a club hallway.

Sly gives me an offended look before his attention shifts to the figure coming into view.

I practically stop breathing in anticipation, but relax when I realize it’s just a drunk girl looking for a bathroom.

She offers us a crooked smile as she stumbles around.

“The bathroom is across the club in the other hallway,” Sly offers politely, though I’m pretty sure he’s only saying that to get rid of her.

She laughs, “Thank you.” She looks at us a little closer and her eyes light up, “Ohmigosh! You’re Slater Nicks! And you’re Aria Kane! I saw your sex tape. It was sooooo hot,” she winks at him.

My stomach practically shrivels up and dies inside of me, that’s how bad the embarrassment is hitting me right now.

God, what if she heard me moaning? Or saw something?

That’s all I’ll ever be known for. That stupid fucking sex tape that I wish never happened.

That was the first thing that came to her mind and I realize that this is how people will see me forever.

They will always see me as a whore and I just gave them more reason to do so.

If what they say about me isn’t true, why did I just let Sly finger fuck me against a sticky fucking wall?

It’s because what they say is true. What’s worse is that I can’t control myself around Sly. Being near him makes me weak, dims my focus. I shouldn’t have let him do that to me. I just proved them all right.

The girl vanishes from sight and Sly turns back to me, moving so that he blocks me from the entrance view of the hallway. He gives me a confused and hurt look, “What was that?”

I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. Why did I wear this bralette top? I look like a hooker. “What was what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

His brows crease, “Shoving me away like that?”

I shrug, “Someone was coming.”

He scoffs, “So you push me away and treat me like some disease you don’t want to catch?”

I take another step away from him and train my eyes on the floor, “I didn’t want her to see us.”

“See us? Don’t dismiss what we just did with two words, Aria.

” He’s annoyed by my dismissal. I don’t blame him for feeling that way.

He just doesn’t understand what this is like for me.

He’s not the one being slut shamed and ridiculed for doing the exact thing that he did. I’m the one suffering the most here.

I feel tears lining my eyes and I try to force them away, keeping my eyes glued to the shiny black floor, most likely from spilled liquor and nothing else. “It was just a hookup. It won’t happen again,” I keep my voice from cracking, forcing restraint in my words.

He reels like I just punched him in the face, “Are you serious?”

I nod, “I have to be.”

“What? Aria, how can you say any of this right now? I know you just felt something too,” he sounds so betrayed and I want so badly to undo everything I just said and be touching him again, but I can’t.

I don’t know what to say in response, so instead I decide to say nothing.

I step around him and storm down the hall, not saying anything to him.

I only glance up from the ground when I’m halfway down the hall.

A loud crashing sound comes from behind me and I jump, my whole body tensing in fear.

I turn around reluctantly and find Sly with his fist buried in the wall, breathing raggedly.

His head is down and he stands there, frozen.

He just punched a hole in the fucking wall.

I didn’t think Sly was capable of that level of anger.

It hurts to know that I’m the cause of said anger.

I ruined this whole night. I want to calm him down, but I’m scared I’ll let that weak part of me that wants him win and I’ll end up proving the world right about me again.

The only way to calm him down is to get him out of here.

“Can we please leave now?” I ask, my voice shaking.

He takes a minute to respond and then he mutters, “Okay.”

I hurry down the hall, rushing back to the booth. I’ll leave getting the car up to him while I say goodbye. I’m not sure if Ivory is still here or if she left with Brody. When I make it back to the booth, all of the members of Thunderstrike are seated, calm with drinks in hand.

Rogan’s body tenses and his demeanor shifts when I come into view.

He looks bitter again, his lips curling into a frown.

I really can’t take any more drama for one night so I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder.

“Sly and I are heading out. It was nice meeting you,” I smile awkwardly at Nate and Miles.

Nate gives me a concerned look, “Is everything okay?”

I nod almost immediately, “Everything is fine. I’m just not feeling too well. I wanna sleep it off.”

“Feel better,” Miles frowns, worry etched into his features.

“Yeah,” Rogan adds, “feel better.” He doesn’t display a single ounce of sincerity on both his face or in his voice.

I give him a weak smile, “Thanks.” I’ll be polite. The last thing I want is more drama with Rogan after earlier.

I guess Ivory did go home with Brody. What a fucking disaster this has turned out to be. I rush out of the VIP booth and to the entrance where I’m sure Sly will be. I find him by the door, waiting for me. I hesitate as I walk over to him. He looks at me but quickly looks away, “Let’s go.”

I don’t take a step, “Aren’t the paps outside?”

He nods.

“Should we…hold hands or something?” I ask anxiously. I know he’s so mad at me right now that he probably can’t even stand to look at me, let alone hold my hand, but he sighs anyway, grabbing my hand before he leads me out of the club and to our limo.

Cameras flash in our faces and I keep my head down.

It isn’t until we make it into the limo and the car starts moving that I open my mouth to speak, but I don’t know what to say.

No words come out. Instead, I clamp my mouth shut and watch as Sly looks out the window, his jaw set in anger or irritation.

He doesn’t say a word to me and I don’t blame him.

Not after I dismissed what happened between us like it meant nothing.

It meant something, I just don’t know what.

The only problem is that it can’t mean anything because that would give the world all the ammo it needs against me.

I was right to put distance between us. We have a business relationship and I won’t mix business with pleasure.

Still, I can’t help but feel disappointed at the loss of the pleasure we shared and the way his fingers felt inside of me. I miss most the feeling of his body pressed against mine, his warmth seeping through what little clothing I have on.

Slater Nicks is dangerous to my career and if I want to prove the media’s whore allegations wrong, I have to stay far far away from him. Even if it means hurting my own heart in the process.