by V. K. Sykes
She shrugged. “I could have lived with that. I can’t exactly throw stones since I froze when Kellen was stabbed.”
He frowned at her. “When I got out there that night, I saw you crawling across the asphalt, cutting up your hands to get to your friend. Not running away. It’s not the same as David running and leaving you.”
“Kellen was still stabbed.” She fisted her hand in her lap. “Anyway, everyone has flaws, Sloane. I never thought David would be brave in the face of violence. But I thought he was strong in other ways. I thought we had something real and honest.”
“And?” He urged her to tell him.
She lifted her shoulders. “He’s lying. I began having these flashes, and they aren’t the same story he’s telling. Someone else was there that night. Someone who called him Dr. Burke.”
That slapped him right in the solar plexus. “You told your family?”
She sighed, clenching and unclenching her fist. “They don’t believe me. They can’t. David’s key to the drug they’re bringing to market.” She paused and said, “He saved my mom’s work on Alzheimer’s. She couldn’t get to the next step, but David did. It’s easy for them to believe him. While I’m the average daughter who never measured up.” When she lifted her head, stark vulnerability shimmered in her eyes. “I didn’t want to find out who they’d choose, me or him.”
Average? It began to make a sick kind of sense. Her parents, brother and David had doctorates, impressive resumes. “You have a degree, right?”
“Just a BS in chemistry.”
Just? Like a degree in chemistry wasn’t pretty damn impressive? But not impressive enough for her family. He wasn’t touching the who-they-would-choose comment. On no, he’d been there.
His mom had chosen her Prince Fucking Charming every time.
So he got it. It was fucked up six ways to Sunday, but he’d seen a lot of screwed-up families that treated each other like shit, both with his mother and various foster families he’d crossed paths with. He wasn’t going to be able to fix this.
Didn’t need to, he reminded himself. He and Kat—they were plus-ones. That was the beauty of the arrangement, sex and convenience, but no emotional shit storms. Did they continue? Or cut their losses? He leaned his head back on the seat, closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. “What now?”
“Your driver drops me off. I thank you for everything, and we go back to our lives. I bake, you go SLAM something.”
She said it with zero inflection in her voice, but he couldn’t help a small smile. “Violent name for a company. It’s named after me. Sloane Adam Michaels.”
She faced him with a twitch of her lips. “You’re a violent man, Sloane Adam Michaels.”
Mesmerizing. She was behind her wall, throwing off comments, trying to push him away. The streetlights slid by, casting her alternately in layers of lights and shadows. “God, you’re beautiful.” But that wasn’t it, wasn’t the reason he couldn’t seem to end it now. It was the strong woman fighting to break out who intrigued the hell out of him.
“Don’t.”
Did she doubt him now? “You believe them? That I’m using you to get to your family?” She’d denied it, but her family had planted the thought in her head. Was it taking root now?
She stared up at the roof of the car. “The carjacking. How is it that you came outside just as we were being attacked?”
Stifling a flash of anger took effort. He rarely explained himself but conceded it was a fair question. Given the things Kat had told him about her family and David, he could understand her caution. “I was looking for you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“When I spotted you in the ballroom, standing there by that cake, I told you I thought I recognized you. It nagged at me. I was sure I’d seen you before. So I decided to find you. Ask your name.”
“You could have asked the bride.”
“I wanted to ask you. When you did tell me your name, then I knew where I’d seen you before. At your sixteenth birthday party.”
Wariness brimmed in her eyes. “You were there?”
“I was the dishwasher. I was eighteen, barely scraping by, and doing anything to fund my training to fight. I remember you in the center of that ridiculous winter wonderland party. You were, at the time, untouchable to me.” He stopped there. She didn’t need to know any more.
Didn’t need to know about Sara and how he’d hated the younger Kat for being so alive and loved while Sara was dead.
“So you knew who my family was?”
Furious, he snapped out, “I’m worth billions, Kat. I don’t screw women to get further in the business world or extract some murky revenge.” It was utterly ridiculous. He’d won in the skirmish with her father. Going after revenge for petty shit wasn’t his style.
No, he saved revenge for those who preyed on and murdered an innocent girl.
Not tonight. Don’t think about it. All of that had nothing to do with Kat, with them.
The limo pulled into Kat’s complex and slid to a stop in front of her condo.
“I’m home. Good night, Sloane.” She held out the barely touched glass of water.
Kat was dismissing him. As if he were that kid again, no more than a dishwasher. He grabbed the glass and slammed it into a holder. He wasn’t letting it end like this.
Ethan opened the door on her side.
“Close the damn door,” he snapped.
“No.” Kat put her hand out, forcing Ethan to catch the door before it hit her. She got out.
“Fuck this.” He threw open his door, went around the limo and caught her hands, halting her before she could escape to her condo.
For the first time since they’d left her parents’ house, something sparked in her face. A flicker. What exactly was that?
And why was he standing here, going after a woman who didn’t want him? Who shut down emotionally when the going got tough?
He had no idea, except that Kat challenged him, blasting right through his training and self-control to reveal a very raw, primal man. And that man wasn’t leaving.
He glanced at Ethan. “Hang tight.” Wrapping his arm around Kat’s shoulders, he took the keys from her unresisting hand and unlocked the front door.
She walked in, and he stood there, knowing if he crossed that threshold…
“You did your thing, Sloane. I’m safe in the house.”
Her eyes fixed over his shoulder, ignoring him. The thread of common sense snapped, and he strode in, forcing her to step back.
Slammed the door. And stalked her.
She backed up. Right into the wall behind the door. She tried to stare into the distance.
Sloane smacked his hands against the wall on either side of her head.
Her gaze shot to his. Wide and focused. Right there with him.
Color started rising into her face. He caught the tie hanging down the front of her shirt and wrapped it around his hand. “I told you before, you want to tell me to fuck off, then say it to my face. But you don’t hide behind a wall.” Christ, he was losing his mind.
She sucked in a breath. “Right, ’cause you’re Sloane Michaels. No one tells you no.”
He lowered his face to hers and tugged on that tie just enough. “Say no. Or tap out. Do it.”
She glared at him. “You’re a goddamned bully.”
“Keep taunting me.” His cock was getting hard, his blood running hot. But there was fire in her gaze now.
“And? What are you going to do?”
He brushed his thumb across her throat, catching the flutter of her pulse. Her mouth parted, her chest rising and falling fast beneath his hand. He examined her face. “You need this, don’t you? You need to be scared, pushed, challenged. You need to be able to fight back.”
She grabbed his hand, trying to move it off her throat and pull it from the tie of her shirt. “Yes, okay? I want to feel whole. I want to just feel.”
He released her shirt, caught her hands and pressed them aga
inst the wall over her head. “What do you feel now, Kitten? I have you pinned. Helpless.”
“Bullshit. I can stop you.”
“How?” Christ, how sick was he that he got off on this shit? “Come on, Kat. How?” He stayed right in her face, pressuring her.
She used her thumb to tap three times on his hand.
Sloane released her. Stepped back.
She tilted her chin, smiling in triumph.
His breath caught, strangled right there in his chest. She was fucking gorgeous. Bold pink streaks in her hair, and her eyes burning with victory. Damn near felt the heat of her glory, and he sure as hell wanted to touch it. More than touch it.
He crowded into the space he’d just vacated. “That’s round one.” Coasting a finger down the side of her throat, he felt her shiver. Her nipples pebbled beneath her shirt and bra. He looked up. “Wanna go for round two, Kitten?” He caressed the sensitive skin at her nape. “You want me to strip off your clothes and make you feel? Make you come? No holds barred? Think hard, Kat. Yes means fuck me now until I scream your name.”
Chapter Twelve
Sloane’s voice teemed with sinful promise.
Exhilaration raced from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet. Her nipples chafed against her bra, and her panties were going from damp to embarrassing.
No man had made her feel this whole. In control and strong and wildly desperate. Like he could come at her with everything he had, all six-and-a-half-feet and two-hundred-plus pounds of raw, untamed male, and she could stop him with one finger.
But why would she when all he wanted to give her was pleasure? Riding the moment, she blurted, “I want that.”
A shudder rippled through him. He fished his cell out of his pants and thumbed the screen. “Texting Ethan.”
Right. She’d forgotten his driver waited.
Sloane returned to her and hovered, his brown eyes growing richer.
“What?”
“You. So brave, Kitten. You were born a fighter, a woman of passion, and you spent your life trying to force yourself to be passive. But now you’re letting her out.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Trust that woman, Kat. If you want to stop, we stop.”
Wild flutters beat at her heart, and for a second, tears stung. It went beyond lust, this was trust. A bond forming that scared her in places even her panic attacks didn’t touch. Sloane saw her, believed in her.
All her life, Kat wasn’t good enough. Not smart enough, not valuable enough. And since her injury—broken. Shattered. She didn’t know how the pieces fit back together. But Sloane’s deep, tawny eyes showed her a different view.
As if she were healing into the woman she was meant to be.
Tilting her head, she kissed him.
He bent his knees, wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her. He cupped the back of her head in his palm and took possession of her mouth, filling her with his sensual flavor.
Kat hooked her legs around his waist. That left her open, exposed to the heavy, thick ridge of his cock straining through their clothes against her core.
Latching on to her hip, he pressed her into him and groaned in approval.
The vibrations and pressure built low in her belly. She wanted it, wanted the feel of a man moving inside her. Wanted to feel his skin against hers. She tugged at his shirt buttons.
Sloane broke the kiss. Holding her, he started walking. “Bedroom.”
“Left. End of hall.” She wiggled, yanking his shirt from his pants.
Sloane’s long legs ate up the distance to her bedroom. Moonlight streamed in from the window, drenching her king-sized bed with the blue comforter and piles of pillows.
He kicked the door shut, strode to the bed and set her to her feet. In a smooth motion, he pulled her top off.
The air hit her bared skin, and doubts crept back in. Sloane had been with a lot of woman. It had been five years for her.
His warm hand settled on her cheek. “Want to slow down?”
The glow from the moon emphasized his savage beauty, yet his hand on her provided gentle support. Reassured, she shook her head and shoved the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the tattoo on his right biceps. Swirls of flames around the letter S created a powerful image. Far as she could tell it was his only tattoo. “Tell me about your tat?”
He glanced at the ink, quicksilver anguish lashing through his brown eyes. “Later.”
That instant of vulnerability endeared him to her more than anything else, filled her with the need to take away that flicker of pain. She traced over the tightly packed muscles of his chest, finding small scars here and there. Learning the slopes and curves of him to find the spots that made his breath quicken and his pulse spike. She leaned in and licked one nipple.
Sloane arched and groaned beneath her assault.
She switched to the other one, feeling her power over him. This time, she grazed him with her teeth, a light bite.
He bowed into her bite. “Playing with fire.” His breath ruffled her hair. His hands brushed over her back to release her bra and drew it down her arms. “I bite back.”
Heat speared her nipples, drawing them into peaks.
A wicked grin curved his mouth. “You like the idea of me biting these.” He ran his knuckles over her sensitized tips, sending jolts straight to her sex. “But I didn’t say where I’ll bite, Kitten.” His hands burned a path of heat to her pants.
A thread of anxiety threatened to take hold. He’d bend down to take her pants off and see her scars. Ugly wounds had a way of ruining the mood. To prevent that, Kat circled his wrists.
Sloane released her, concern swimming in his gaze.
Wanting him turned on, engaged, she lowered her voice. “Let me.” Catching the button, she released it, dragged down her zipper and shimmied her pants low on her hips.
“Oh yeah. Keep going.”
The throaty growl of approval emboldened her. She kicked off her flats and wiggled out of her pants.
Leaving her in a scrap of black lace. A triangle that barely covered her in the front and sank between the cheeks of her ass in the back.
Sloane’s heated stare traveled down and caught on that scrap of fabric. When she dipped her thumbs beneath the thin straps riding her hips, he snagged her wrists. “Is that a thong? You won’t wear a skirt, but you’re wearing a thong?”
“I might be.” Had she ever felt this desirable? This brave?
Frank appreciation shimmered in his eyes. “For me, Kat? Did you wear it for me?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
He raked his gaze down. His nostrils flared and his breath hitched. “Best fucking idea ever.” Fusing his mouth to hers, he kissed her with hot, deep lashes of his tongue.
Kat fell into the kiss, into a shroud of intimacy that pushed everything out but the two of them.
Sloane kissed over her jaw, down her throat, laved her collarbone. Teased the tender slope of her breast. The rough dampness of his tongue charred her nerve endings. More, she wanted more. Tugging her hands free, she entwined her fingers around the heavy, silky strands of his hair.
A ripe groan spilled from him, and he closed his lips over her nipple.
Spikes of heat streaked to her core. Kat arched, pulling him tighter against her. Sensations exploded as he suckled. Her need sharpened, every pull on her nipple riding down to torment her clit. An ache bloomed in that bundle of nerves.
Sloane sank to his knees and sat back on his heels. With his chest bared, she saw his abs notched with tension. He looked up, a flush spreading across his face. “Show me your thong, Kitten.” His voice downshifted to untamed huskiness. “Turn around.”
No one had ever made her feel this…sensually savored. Worshipped and wanted. Heady excitement pulsed in her veins, making it easy for her to follow his directions and face the bed.
He rumbled a soft growl and glided his fingers over her. Cupped her cheeks, molding and caressing. “Your ass has tortured me all night in those pant
s.” He traced the line of her thong, dipping between her thighs.
His fingers brushed over the thin material, teasing little touches all the way to her clit. Hot need pooled low in her belly. Then he withdrew.
Before she could whimper her protest, he tunneled his thumbs beneath the thin straps at her hips. “I’m going to peel these off and show you how mind-blowingly sexy you are.”
Anticipation tightened her thighs as she felt the gentle tug. The slow descent, traveling the rate of an inch for each beat of her pulse, was maddening. Thrilling.
Silky material whispered softly, while Sloane’s fingers heated a trail of rougher pleasure. Her panties clung to her damp arousal, stripping away in deliberate and sweet torture. Once he had them at her ankles, she stepped out.
He rose, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to his chest. His warmth engulfed her, reassured her. He brushed his lips over her ear, nibbling her lobe, gently scraping his teeth over her shoulder. Before she could fully process that, he played with her nipples, rolling one, tweaking the other.
She ignited, arching as her blood pounded beneath his tender assault. Her clit bloomed open, begging for his touch. “Sloane.”
“Right here.” He trailed one hand down her belly and pressed his fingers between her thighs, stroking her cleft. “Hot and wet. So responsive.” The rough pad of his finger abraded her clit.
She canted into him, clutching his arm. “You’re making me burn.”
“Right there with you.” Tightening his arm around her, he slid a finger inside her, sinking deep. “Such a tight little cunt,” he groaned against her ear as he retreated and thrust in an electrifying rhythm. “So damned perfect.”
Pleasure spiraled as she moved against his hand. Kat was losing track, just feeling. His arm around her waist, his chest scorching her back. The ridge of his thick erection pressing against her hips. His fingers thrusting in and out, harder. Deeper. “Oh God.” She threw her head back. Hot chills raced over her skin.