Page 30 of The Pursuit of Happiness (Satan’s Angels #2)

He kisses me slowly, passionately as if he’s waiting for me to pull away and break the kiss like I have every other time we’ve crossed that line. I fist the fabric of his t-shirt in my hands and know what we’re doing is wrong. We’re wandering into that dangerous territory again.

Every moment I share with Sly is perfect, but what comes with it isn’t.

The constant scrutiny, the hate, the allegations, all of it.

It’s like gaining something only to have ten things taken from you in return.

I want Sly. I want him so badly and I know he wants me too, but he can’t possibly begin to understand what this means for me if we go there.

He saw a small glimpse of it today and he hated it.

I’m sure if we ventured further it would only make things worse.

As his tongue finds mine, I groan into his mouth and break the kiss, pushing away from him. He gives me a disbelieving look and shakes his head in blatant disappointment.

“We can’t go there, Sly,” I lament.

He shakes his head, an apathetic laugh escaping his lips, “You always say that, but you never say why.”

I wave my arms around to dramatize my point, “Are you forgetting what happened earlier tonight?”

“The pap? He got what was coming to him. What does that have to do with this? With us ?” He asks, the pain in his voice clear.

I groan, throwing my head back, “Everything, Sly. It has everything to do with us, with why we can’t be together.”

He takes a step towards me and I take a step back in return, “Stop.” I hold a hand up to stop him and he obeys, “Sly, if our business relationship is gonna work, we can’t keep slipping.” My voice splits on the sentence. “I love being your friend. Why can’t we just stay friends?”

Sly rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, “I can’t just turn my feelings off.”

I can’t either. I want to say that, but I don’t. Instead I say, “You have to try.”

He pauses before reluctantly nodding. “If you don’t feel the same, then fine. We can stay friends.”

I do feel the same. That’s what makes being his friend so hard. But what’s harder is what comes with giving in to my desires. If I give in, the floodgates open and the world can say and do whatever it wants to me. I’m not willing to endure that. Not even for Sly.

I nod, “Friends.” I want to vomit, that’s how much the words taste bitter and sour in my mouth, but I don’t. “I should go home. I don’t want to make this any more uncomfortable than it already is.”

He shakes his head, an exhausted look on his face. “You can stay the night. It’s late.”

I feel that swarm of butterflies going crazy again. Sly just asked me to sleepover. “It’s okay, I-”

“Aria, shut up and sleepover. I promise nothing is going to happen,” he refers to our previous slip up and new set of boundaries outlined in thick red lines.

I cross my arms over my chest, “I don’t know if a sleepover is the best idea after that.”

“I have guest rooms. I don’t want you on the road this late at night,” he nods towards the stairs with his chin and starts walking, a silent command for me to follow.

I hesitate as I watch him ascend the staircase and feel a tug of war within myself. It is late to go home. Besides, if I go home now, I most likely won’t sleep. I’m still anxious over what occurred outside the club. I throw caution to the wind at that moment and start following him up the stairs.

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I SMOOTH THE WRINKLES out of the white t-shirt I borrowed from Sly.

He lent me a pair of his boxers which were huge on me, but I made it work.

He set me up in a guest room and left me to it.

I walk over to the bed and pull back the comforter, climbing under the sheets and laying my head down on the perfectly cushioned pillow.

The door cracks open a moment later and Sly’s head peeks in to check on me. “Everything okay? Do you need anything?”

You . I think to myself. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

He nods and gives me a small smile, “Goodnight, Kane.”

“Goodnight, Sly,” I smile back.

He moves to leave, but I suddenly jolt, “Sly? Wait.”

He comes back into view, a worried look on his face, “What’s wrong?”

“What do you think is gonna happen? You know…after tonight,” I bite my lip in an attempt to staunch my anxiousness.

He takes a deep breath and looks off to the side, contemplating his response before he shrugs, “I honestly don’t know, but whatever happens, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He says it with such sincerity, conviction that I want to believe him and I almost do.

The problem with his promise is that I don’t want him to worry about me. I want him to worry about what this is going to mean for him . I open my mouth to protest but he beats me to it by soothing, “Go to sleep. You can worry tomorrow, but for now get some sleep.”

He retreats back into the hall, closing the door behind him and as his footsteps sound from down the hall, more and more distance growing between us, I drop my head to the pillow and worry about what tonight means for myself and for the gorgeous blond man I can’t stop rejecting, but also can’t stop slipping with.