She doesn’t respond.

I wince, because I hate that I’ve put her in this position. I hate that she even doubts me. I hate that I’ve given her all the reason in the world to. And I hate that I don’t know a single goddamn thing I could say to make her believe what I feel for her.

I lean in and kiss the side of her head, then I lower my arms and wrap them around her.

I don’t try to convince her with more words.

I don’t feed her apologies that are way too late.

I just hug her, because I can’t stand to know she’s feeling what she’s feeling.

After several moments of being frozen stiff in my arms, she slowly begins to relax. Her hands come up and fist in my shirt, and she begins to melt against me. She presses her face against my chest and starts crying, so I cradle her as tight as I can.

I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper in her damp hair. “You’re all I see, Sloan. Beyond the job, beyond right and wrong. You’re all I see.”

I press my lips to the side of her head and when I feel her mouth press against my neck, I pull her closer. She’s still gasping for breath, probably a combination of fear, anger and our current proximity. We find each other in the dark and when our lips finally meet, it’s as if she’s silently begging me to kiss away her doubts.

I do. Our mouths crash together in desperation. I push her against the wall of the house again and slide my hands to her waist. Every second that passes is a second that never should have, but it’s ten more seconds I wish I could have with her tonight.

When I press into her, she moans against my mouth and that sound pushes away everything else. The anxiety, the common sense. My need for her completely takes over, and based on the way her hands are sliding inside of my shirt, so does hers.

I’m in the fog and I don’t see myself finding my way out of it anytime soon.

Fucking hell.

My mouth works its way down her neck. I bring one of my hands up to her breasts and slide it between her skin and her bra. I’m met with skin as smooth as silk. “Goddamit, Sloan,” I whisper, dragging my mouth up her neck again. When I reach her lips, she dips her tongue in my mouth and her hands fall to the button of my jeans.

I lift one of her legs to my side. Then the other.“My car,” I whisper, wrapping her around me.

It’s dark enough outside and the property is encased with enough trees that I’m not worried about neighbors seeing us as we climb in my backseat. The only thing I’m worried about is the fact that her fiancé is inside the house and getting caught would mean…

I don’t even want to think about that right now. Dalton hasn’t texted me yet, so we’ve got time.

I shut the backdoor and reach over the front seat, grabbing a condom out of the glove box. When I fall back against the seat, she’s sliding on top of me, mouth on mine, hands on my chest.

Down my chest.

I lift her bra over her breasts and work my mouth over her at the same time she frees me from my jeans.

Once I get the condom on, I grab her hips and position her on top of me while she pulls her panties aside. I lean my head back against the seat so I can watch her face as I enter her.

We make eye contact and I begin to lower her on top of me, slowly. Everything grows much quieter in the car as we both hold our breath. My eyes never leave hers the whole time she’s taking me in. When we’re finally skin to skin and I’m fully inside of her, we simultaneously release a sharp exhale.

“My God,” I whisper.

It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt-finally being inside of her.

It’s the guiltiest I’ve ever felt-knowing how much danger my lack of willpower is putting her in.

She leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck. “Luke,” she breathes against my lips.

I fucking die.

She called me Luke.

My mouth finds hers again and I kiss her the way she deserves to be kissed. With conviction. With respect. With feeling.

She begins to move on top of me and she’s all I see.

I close my eyes and she’s all I fucking see.

Sloan-35

Sloan

I had no idea it could feel like this.

That sounds so cliché, even as I’m thinking it. But his hands, his mouth, the way he touches me-it’s like my response is what he lives for.

I don’t know how I went from hating him two hours ago in the kitchen to feeling more for him in this moment than all the days before combined.

Knowing that he’s not like Asa…that’s he’s the complete opposite of Asa…it’s so…attractive.

He’s good. He’s a good guy. They actually exist.

It all came together like an epiphany while I was floating in the pool. Him calling himself by the wrong name. Him taking a Spanish class that is years beneath his ability, only to conveniently be in there with me. The way he continued to reassure me that I needed to trust him, but he would never say why. Using another girl as a decoy.