***
Max
Twenty minutes had passed and still no Sloane. Max had thought she would’ve been right behind him once she put the clothes he gave her into her room. Maybe he’d been too hard on her.
Thinking he should check on her, he hiked back upstairs and stopped just outside the closed door. Leaning in to listen, he could faintly make out the weeping inside. Shit. Why did he have to be such an ass earlier? Sure, she had insulted him, insinuating that he was just another cheating bastard. Did she think so little of him? Or did she think so little of all men? Foster certainly didn’t seem to bear the brunt of any ill will.
Placing his hand on the door, he thought about knocking. He should apologize, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to face the hurt he had caused. Not while both of their feelings were still so raw. Slowly, his hand slid down the door in defeat.
He made his way back downstairs to the kitchen to make a sandwich for himself. He would make Sloane one if and when she came out of her room later. Plopped in front of his television, Max scanned through the channels while he ate his turkey sandwich. By the time he finished eating, there still wasn’t anything on that he cared to watch. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and brought up the contact information for Foster.
“Hey man, what’s up?”
“You talked to Sloane earlier, so you have the majority of it.”
“Yeah, she puts on a good face, but she seemed a little trampled on.”
“She was.”
Max recounted the events of the day as he’d remembered her describing to him. He pictured her face as she bolted out of the stairwell, right into Winston’s arms. He’d wished it was his arms she ran into. She’d felt so good pressed up against him as she waited to give her statement.
Foster’s voice brought him out of his haze.
“She must have been terrified.”
“All she wanted was that sorry excuse of a boyfriend to comfort her.”
“I made some calls after I talked to her. Brody told one of his buddies he was going to see Carmela after his shift. I’ll give Sloane a call to see how she’s holding up.”
“She’s upset, but all right. She’s lying down.”
“How would you know?”
“They knew her name, Foster. Probably her address as well. No way could she go back there, much less go there alone.”
“She never told me that earlier. This isn’t good.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“All right, I’ll try to work around mine and Bella’s schedule so she isn’t ever alone. I know your rule about women, but can she stay there tonight? Or should I come get her?”
“No, she’s fine. You don’t have to rearrange anything. I don’t have anything I need to do for a few days that require me to leave the house. She can stay here.”
“You really are sweet on her, aren’t you?”
“Shut up, dude. I’m just trying to help her out.”
“You keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll even start believing it. All right, man, take care of her. I’ll touch base with you tomorrow.”
Max slumped back against the couch after disconnecting the call, scrubbing his face with his hands. The burdens of the day settled unacceptably on his shoulders. Resigned that there was nothing more he could do tonight, he made his way up to bed, stopping first to brush his teeth. The toothbrush he had giving Sloane was open on the countertop.
He stopped by her door again. All was silent inside. Opening it quietly, Max peered inside to make sure she was okay.
Sloane was wrapped around one of the many pillows that covered the bed, her long porcelain legs cradling part of the cushion. Her golden hair spilled over another. She had changed into nothing more than the shirt he had supplied, and it had ridden up, just barely hiding the swell of her ass cheeks. Her soft moan brought his dick to attention. Silently, he backed out of the room and marched to his own. How the hell was he supposed to sleep now?
Tossing and turning, Max couldn’t get the image of Sloane spread across the bed in the next room out of his mind. The way the moonlight illuminated her skin, causing it to practically glow. What would it feel like to touch her? To run his hands over her velvety skin? Grasping his shaft, he began stroking it slowly, imagining Sloane’s supple thighs wrapped around him.
His strokes became longer, pulling harder as his hips thrust up involuntarily to meet his hand. Max pictured her above him. Her golden tresses falling across his chest. Slowly his orgasm built, quickening his breath. He was close. A few more thrusts and he would find sweet release. Knowing Sloane was in the next room just made it hotter.
Her sudden scream of “Max!” brought his orgasm instantly. Only his concern kept him from truly enjoying the moment. He donned his boxer briefs after using a towel to clean off the evidence from his stomach, even as he left the privacy of his bedroom. Without knocking, he entered the room. Sloane was sitting on the bed with her knees up to her chin, her arms wrapped tightly around them. She looked terrified. Max rushed to her side, lowering himself onto the mattress next to her. He pulled her head against his chest.
“It’s okay, babe, I’m here. Everything is all right.”
“I was being chased. He almost had me this time.”
“It was just a dream.”
“I’m so sorry, Max. I didn’t mean to wake you. I feel ridiculous.”
“I wasn’t asleep. No reason for apologies. You’re safe here. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
“Will you…will you stay here with me?” She focused on her hands, which were absently rubbing the tops of her feet. She quickly added, “Just until I fall back asleep?”
***
Sloane
Sloane felt stupid and vulnerable after Max darted into her temporary room. She was hugging herself, trying to chase Booker’s face from her memory. Every time she closed her eyes, his face appeared. She could imagine him chasing her through the stairwell. Max didn’t seem to mind, though. He pulled her close, rubbing her arm to comfort her.
Even when she asked him to stay, he didn’t berate her or make excuses why he couldn’t. He leaned back onto the headboard, bringing her along with him. She slipped her arms around his waist and snuggled her head against his shoulder. She felt safe with him. The steady rhythm of his breathing soothed her to sleep quickly.
Chapter Seven
Sloane
Tightening her arms around Brody, Sloane sighed. Her elbow brushed against his growing erection. Unable to help herself, she moaned, rubbing her cheek against his bare chest slowly. Her leg was thrown over his, leaving his thigh pressed against her core. Could he feel the heat through her panties? It had been over a month since they’d had sex.
Feeling brave for the first time in her life, she cupped his balls and then slid her hand up his shaft. The dull throb between her legs had her grinding herself against him slowly as his cock continued to lengthen in her hand.
“Now this could persuade me to like mornings.”
Giggling, she opened her eyes to look up at Brody’s face. Only it wasn’t Brody—it was Max looking down at her, a mixture of surprise, confusion, and desire storming in his eyes. They were breathtaking. Sloane’s brain finally came online. She remembered the events that led to her being in bed with Max.
“Ohmygod!” Sloane jumped up and stumbled halfway across the room, her hand covering her open mouth…until she realized it was the same hand that had just caressed Max’s dick. She quickly dropped it to her side. She could feel the flames dancing across her skin. With her pale complexion, she knew without a doubt her entire face and neck must resemble a beet. She was incredibly mortified.
“I am so sorry, Max!” she squeaked.
He laughed, standing up from the bed in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that were more than slightly raised in the front. “It’s okay.”
He tried to adjust himself inconspicuously, but seeing as she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, he really didn’t need to bothe
r. His tanned chest was expansive, and lightly dusted with dark hair that covered his pecks and trailed down his mouthwatering abs to end somewhere past the elastic of his briefs. Tattoos swirled around his biceps in no discernible pattern. Sloane longed to trace each one with her fingertips…and her tongue.
He had the thickest thighs she’d ever seen on a man. At least on someone who wasn’t a professional bodybuilder. They screamed of power. What would those muscles feel like contracting underneath her? How could she have mistaken his body for Brody’s? Brody was a puny awkward teenage boy compared to Max.
“I can’t believe I just molested you like that. I’m truly horrified.” She covered her face with her hands, though she peeked between her fingers to gauge his reaction.
Max stalked across the room like a prowling panther and grabbed her shoulders. She dropped her hands by her side. His whiskey-colored eyes penetrated hers, holding her mesmerized and silent in their depths. She swallowed hard, having no choice but to give him her undivided attention.
“First off, stop apologizing. Secondly, I could have easily moved your hand at any time. Thirdly, it should be me apologizing.”
“You? For what?”
“I should have realized you didn’t know it was me. You wouldn’t have done that if you did. I should have stopped you, but I didn’t.”
He took a step back, dropping his hands. She would have wanted to, though. Even standing here like a statue, she wanted to reach for him. The loss of heat on her skin from his hands almost pulled a whimper from inside her. The awareness she felt with Max was staggering.
There had never been a time before now where she’d felt every nerve come alive inside of her from just the touch of someone’s hand. When he’d smiled, it made her insides melt.
“I’m gonna go get dressed. Then I’ll make some breakfast. You must be starving.”
“Um, sure. I could eat.”
Sloane watched his chiseled ass as he made his retreat from the room. She was still in shock at what she did. She’d never initiated things with Brody. What made her try this time? Did her subconscious know it was Max all along? Dropping down onto the mattress, she replayed the incident in her head. Her body craved him. She’d mourned the loss of his warm flesh pressed against hers. Damn, she had to get herself in check. Dressing in yesterday’s clothes, she left the sanctity of the bedroom, mentally preparing herself to see Max again.
The smell of cooking bacon had her practically salivating. When was the last time she ate? Max stood over the burners, flipping bacon and scrambling eggs. He was covered by a thin white ribbed tank top that clung to every muscle and a pair of worn blue jeans. He was barefoot and the top button of his pants was still undone. The heat that rushed through her had her clamping her thighs together. Too bad it only made matters worse. Max was incredibly sexy.
“Good timing.”
He piled food onto a plate. After setting it in front of her, he took the seat beside her with his own plate. They ate in companionable silence, until finally she looked over at him as he read the paper.
“So what now?”
“Now we sit tight and wait.”
“Wait for what, exactly?”
“For me to get some reliable intel so we can find this guy. Until then, you’ll stay here with me. I can keep you safe.”
“What about your job?”
“I can do everything I need to for my current workload from the comfort of my home office. So don’t worry. Okay?”
“Okay,” she sighed.
“What, no argument?”
“You’re right. No sense arguing.”
Sloane finished her breakfast quietly. She cleared their dishes from the table. She was startled when the wall phone rang by her head.
Max pushed to his feet and walked over to grab it. “Hello.”
There was a long pause before Max turned, his body stiffening slightly. He handed his phone out toward her. Sloane took it, a questioning look no doubt on her face. Max looked less than happy.
“It’s for you.”
For her? Foster and Bella must be wondering what in the world was going on. Maybe she could stay with them for a few days instead. She took the phone from Max’s outstretched hand.
“Hello?”
“Sloane, honey, are you okay?” Brody’s voice boomed through the handset.
“I’m fine. How did you know I was here?”
“I called Foster. He reamed me out pretty good after he told me what happened.”
She looked at Max. He casually leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of him. He was so damn striking that it was harder than she would have thought to pay attention to the conversation she was having. Watching him was too distracting. Mentally, she took a deep breath, fortifying her resolve to not even think about falling for a man like him. It would only lead to heartache and she’d had enough of that in her life. Her gaze fixed on anything other than the handsome man in the room with her. See, look how interesting the stove was.
“Where were you?”
“I was home, honey. My phone died so I had it charging. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“Your phone was dead all night?”
Sloane could feel the pinpricks of tears forming in her eyes. Even though she had no real way of knowing for sure, deep down she knew Brody was lying. She risked a glance up at Max. The anger coming off of him was almost visible. Could he hear Brody on the other end of the line? She must look like a damn fool. Everyone at the station knew about Brody’s indiscretions. They were the perfect alibi for him. All except Foster. He was like Big Brother, always watching out for her, even when she didn’t want him to.
“Of course not, but I went to sleep while it was still charging. I’m sorry, honey. Do you want me to come get you? I can drop you at your apartment before I go to the station.”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“With Max?”
Brody’s loving boyfriend façade started to slip. There was an underlying hostility in his voice, and it grew stronger with each word he spoke. It almost sounded like jealousy, which was ridiculous—he had never been the jealous type in the past. Then again, she had never given him a reason to be.
“Are you fucking him, Sloane?”
“No. My God, how can you even think that? I’m not like you, Brody. I don’t fuck everything with a dick just because I can.”
“Most men would get frostbite after one night with you. You’re lucky I stick around like I do.”
Sloane gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand, the other squeezing the phone like a lifeline. She was temporarily unable to process the meaning behind his words. She couldn’t believe he’d just said that. The tears she fought so hard to hold back came streaming down her cheeks with a vengeance.
Max pushed away from the wall and stalked toward her. She held up a hand in a stop motion. No way could she let him interfere—she had to get used to doing things on her own again. She had to be the one to do this. She had to break this cycle, but Brody kept right on talking.
“I looked at you and thought I’d won the lotto. I was wrong. How can a woman as hot as you be so fucking dead inside?”
Every word was like a knife through her heart. She cared about him…no. Maybe what she really cared about now was the person he had been, but he hadn’t been that Brody in some time. The sex wasn’t great now like it had been in the past. That was before Brody thought their sex life should resemble a BDSM porn flick. Not that she thought there was anything wrong with them, but that life just wasn’t for her. She’d thought that as long as there was open communication, two people in love could work that out.
She wasn’t really in love with him yet, but there had been potential. If he only could’ve kept his dick in his pants.
But no more. Now, she was through bending over backwards to try to please him.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I tried. I really did try to be what you wanted, but obviously I failed. This isn’t working.”
“This, us. It’s over. I can’t do it anymore.”
Sloane hung up the phone before Brody could say anything else. Her face was damp with spilled tears. She couldn’t stand the idea of Max witnessing another meltdown, so she pushed past him. She didn’t stop moving until she was curled up on the bed again.
She did it. She’d ended things with Brody. How could she have been so stupid? For almost a year she stayed with him knowing deep down it was wrong. She should have walked after the first time she caught him with another woman. Not that any of it mattered anymore. Sloane lay there for a long time. Long after her sobs ceased. Today would hurt. She would let the pain wash over her. She would feel everything and let it be a reminder to her future self. Today would hurt, but tomorrow she would be better.
***
Max
Max was beyond furious. He wanted to put his fist through that asshole’s face. Thinking of Sloane upstairs crying only made it worse. He wanted to go to her. Wrap her in his arms and tell her it was the best thing she could have done, but he knew she wouldn’t let him. As much as he wanted to, he knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t let himself get more attached than he already was. He didn’t do relationships, and even if he did, he wasn’t good enough for someone like her. He would only hurt her in the end, and she was already broken enough. That’s what he kept telling himself.
Needing to release some of the pent-up aggression, Max opened the door to the basement and descended into his personal gym. The room wasn’t huge, but it was all he needed. An exercise bike sat along the wall, across from the clothes washer and dryer. Next to that, a treadmill. The adjacent wall framed in the weight bench and the shelving for all the free weights. A punching bag and medicine bag rounded out the equipment before him. He clicked on the radio already tuned to a station that played a little bit of everything. This is what he needed to keep his head straight.
Best Man For The Job (The Men of Fear Incorporated Book 1) Page 5