by V. K. Sykes
Chapter Nine
Anticipation simmered low in Sloane’s gut. He’d been traveling all week and hadn’t seen Kat since Sunday night at the gym.
When she opened the door to her condo, he sucked in a breath. Her hair curled down enticingly over her bare shoulders, and she was wearing a turquoise sleeveless tunic with two long ties loosely knotted in the front. He wanted to wrap those dangling ties around his hand and pull her in for a kiss, but restrained himself. Kat was learning to trust him, he didn’t need to get his hands on her the first second he saw her. Those slim black pants clinging to her hips and thighs weren’t helping his resolve. And then her shoes…once he’d have sworn he loved women in stilettos, but Kat made flats sexy.
Lifting his gaze, he smiled. “You look beautiful. I half-expected you to cancel on me since you had a week to think about it.”
“It crossed my mind.”
He put his hand on her lower back, guiding her to his limo. Against his palm, her muscles worked harder than average to accommodate her right leg. He shortened his stride to make it easier for her.
At the limo, he waved away his driver and opened the door. Kat’s soft hair brushed across his arm like a slow, satiny caress. That sensation shot a wakeup call right to his groin. Settling in the car next to her, he couldn’t remember the last time a simple touch set him on fire.
As the limo smoothly pulled away, Sloane resumed their conversation. “Why didn’t you cancel?” He was damn glad she hadn’t, but still curious.
She met his stare. “I’m trying to figure out why I’m attracted to you.”
He stretched his arm over the back of the seat, stroking her hair. “Having any luck with that?” Because he wasn’t. Beautiful women in his world were common. So what was it about Kat that got under his skin?
Hell, since their kiss, she’d become an obsession. No woman had ever driven him to uncontrollable need so fast.
“Maybe it’s just my dry spell. You’re a very sexual man.”
He was, but she’d taken his appetite to a new level. “How long has it been for you?”
She started to turn away.
Oh no, he wasn’t having that. Bringing his other hand up, he cupped her face. “Don’t look away. Tell me to fuck off if you want, but don’t look away.” He stroked her lips with his thumb. Light gloss. He wanted to lick it off. “Your choice to tell me, but I am very, very interested.” His voice went husky with the need to know everything he could about her so he could give her as much pleasure as possible.
She parted her lips.
Her warm breath feathered over his thumb. It took a conscious effort not to slide the digit into her wet mouth.
“Five years.”
His guts tightened, and blood thundered through him. “Five years since you’ve had sex?” he clarified.
“With a partner.”
Holy fuck, he did not need to think of her with her own hand between her legs, stroking her clit, trying to reach orgasm. Panting, straining, her body flushed and nipples peaked…her pussy wet and throbbing. Needing release.
Jesus, he wasn’t going to be able to walk.
But he realized she was thinking too hard, maybe remembering that incident she’d mentioned to him in her bakery. Sloane recalled her saying she had panicked during sex. He kept touching her, feeding the very real connection between them. “You had a panic attack last time you tried. Tell me what I need to know about that.”
“It was a rebound thing a few months after my fiancé and I broke up. Another guy from physical therapy.” She closed her eyes. “I felt like I was being smothered when he was on top of me. I told him, but he was, um, in the moment and didn’t hear me. I panicked and screamed.”
That helped him get his dick under control, but it didn’t diminish his lust for her one bit. “Did you feel that way when I kissed you?”
Her expression softened, and the tension in her body eased. “No. Not until the end when you were trying to scare me.”
He’d been doing exactly that, needing her to tap out, needing to prove to her she could trust him. But he’d wanted her so damned bad, she had to be the one to stop it. His usual discipline had vanished beneath the power of her response to him. But his attention had been one-hundred-percent focused on her, he wouldn’t have missed her plea to stop. “No matter what is happening, I’ll hear you.”
“How do you know?”
He leaned down. Slowly. Inching toward her. When he was close enough, he said, “Because I’m not getting off, baby, until you do. Several times. I’ll be paying very close attention to you.”
She swayed toward him, her breath fluttering.
She’d gone five years without a man’s touch. Five. Years. Here she was trusting him to give her that intense pleasure, and that was hot enough to give him a sunburn. He told her, “You’re going to look into my eyes just like this when we break your dry spell. I’m going to watch you come, shaking with pleasure until you can’t take anymore.”
And then he’d give her more. As much as she wanted.
***
Kat was drowning in him, his fingers on her face, his thumb stroking her lip. His words slamming her heart against her ribs. She wanted it.
Wanted him.
That kiss a week ago…she’d almost climaxed right there in the gym’s staff break room. With her clothes on. From nothing more than his kiss and a little well-placed friction.
And now he was doing it again, surrounding her, his scent flooding her senses. His lips were maybe two inches from hers. “You’re going to kiss me.”
“Most definitely.”
“Soon?” Her voice was breathy, light…insubstantial.
“Once I solve a problem.” He moved his thumb over her bottom lip, then dipped it in, just barely.
Just enough to touch her tongue.
Kat nearly moaned. Her nipples tightened and ached. Heat flooded her limbs and trickled down through her folds. “Problem?”
His sensual eyes glittered. “How will I stop this time?” He slid his thumb in deeper, gliding along her tongue.
She closed her mouth, tasting him. His rich and musky flavor enticed her to want more.
“Once I taste you, I’m not going to want to stop. I’ll want to taste down your collarbone, lick your breasts, suck your nipples.” He pulled his thumb out. “How will I stop, Kat? I barely stopped last time and only because you tapped out. But you won’t tap out this time, will you?”
“I don’t know?” Was she asking? Agreeing? Begging? Somehow, Sloane had made all the desire she’d lost surge up like a tidal wave ready to consume her.
“You have the power, Kat.” He drew his finger over the curve of her jaw, stroking her clavicle.
Flutters danced in her stomach. She couldn’t take any more. “What?”
“You’re safe with me. You want to stop, we stop. But if I kiss you, taste your mouth, it’s only going to make me hungrier. Starved to know how the rest of you tastes. Your nipples, your belly, the soft skin of your inner thighs.” He brushed his mouth by her ear, his breath warm and teasing. “Then I’m going to spread your legs and kiss, taste and lick my fill of you.”
Her clit throbbed even as shock seared her. She sucked in a breath. “You’re torturing me.”
“You deserve it, Kitten. I stayed half hard the rest of the week after that kiss.” He licked the shell of her ear. “That’s the hold you have on me.”
She shivered, falling under the spell Sloane wove out of words and touches.
He pulled away from her ear. “One kiss. That’s all we get until after the party. One kiss. Can we do that, Kat?”
Her pulse thrummed, and her body sang with new and vibrant desires. Was this what normal women felt? Some part of her was scared. Terrified. This power he had to bring her to this level of arousal…
Too much. Too strong. He was creating a need in her that was nearly violent with its intensity.
“I can tap out?” She had to reassure herself she had some power.
“It’s your dry spell, Kat. Your decision.”
“Kiss me.”
He covered her mouth, his lips warm seduction as his balmy scent filled her nostrils with soap and aged oak blended with pure male. Only a sip of his flavor teased her, like a dark and decadent chocolate truffle that she was desperate to capture and savor. More, she wanted to taste and touch as much of him as she could get access to. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she traced and shaped the powerful shift of his muscles through his sports jacket.
He made a noise in his chest. A fierce demand. Brushing his hand across her cheek, he slipped his fingers beneath her hair to cup her nape. His thumb stroked her jaw, inviting her to open for him.
She tilted her head, to give him what he demanded and to take what she wanted.
He slid his tongue into her mouth. Learning, exploring, commanding. His rich taste flooded her senses, filling every cell, and still wasn’t enough. The hot, bare skin of his throat seared her fingers as she dragged them along, his skin pebbling in reaction. His pulse at the base of his throat throbbed strong and fast. Excitement arrowed through her to feel and taste the effect she had on him.
More. She went farther, dipping into the V of his shirt, touching the brawny muscle beneath feverish skin. She wanted to lick her way across his chest. Across all of him. The need was so vivid, she sucked his tongue in raw craving. He brought on her brazenness, the part of her she’d repressed for so many years. The freedom and power spurred her on. She loved the sensation of bringing a man as confident and powerful as Sloane Michaels to his knees with her touch and kisses.
Oh yeah. This new intrepidness suited her.
Sloane groaned and dragged his head back until a few inches separated them. His hand cupped her nape, his thumb stroking the tender place between her ear and jaw. “One kiss,” he said.
She blinked and her surroundings came into focus—they were in Sloane’s limo, totally losing control. Okay, that wasn’t bad. In fact, it’d been pretty amazing. His pupils were so dilated barely any brown remained. Because of their kiss. Kat let herself soak it all in.
Stroking her jaw, he said, “Thank God you have pants on. If you’d worn a skirt, I’d have your panties on the floor.”
Memories of the last time she’d worn a skirt rushed her veins with a subzero transfusion. Her desire iced. Kat wasn’t like other women. Scooting over in the seat, away from him, she stared at the dark privacy screen. “I don’t wear skirts.”
Vividly aware of him sinking back in the seat next to her, she hated herself for letting her fears and old memories destroy the moment.
“That kind of shit is really going to piss me off, Kitten.”
Snapping her head around, she saw the barely banked violence glittering in his gaze. Yet he’d called her kitten, his pet name for her. The contrast confused her. “Because I won’t wear skirts?”
“Because you’re pulling back, shutting me out.”
He was even shrewder than she’d thought. “This another one of your terms, Sloane?”
Catching her hand, he linked their fingers and pulled her closer. “I don’t like you building walls between us. It makes me determined to kick them down.”
“Are you always this demanding with your lovers?” What was he stirring in her? Fear? Lust? Excitement? A challenge, because for some reason he didn’t seem to doubt that she could hold her own.
He ground his jaw. “You’re bringing it out in me, Kitten.” Cupping her chin, he stroked the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “Good thing you have a safe gesture. Because I am not as tamed as everyone wants to believe, and there’s just something about you that is tripping my switch.”
This time, Kat shivered.
***
A hush moved like a wave over the large wood deck decorated with lighting and flowers, plenty of seating and a bar set up on one end. Even the servers moving around filling drink orders and offering appetizers quieted.
Sloane ignored the reaction, ignored the attention following them as he steered Kat toward his goal. He needed a drink to try to knock back the tension roiling through him. Why the hell was he putting himself through this? He could find another plus-one. A woman who wouldn’t drive him to the very edge of his control. That kiss in the limo…
Then the way she’d emotionally retreated?
Shit. Just shit.
He’d need the whole damn bottle.
Reaching the bar, he managed to regain some civility. “What do you want to drink?”
“Cyanide. On ice with a twist of lime. Or water. But I’m not budging on the lime.” Kat had popped her butt up on a barstool. Her irises swirled colors of the ocean with just the barest hint of gray.
God he needed to touch her. Bracketing his hands around her waist, he lifted a brow. “Is the cyanide for you? Or me?”
“I haven’t decided.”
He didn’t like the shadows haunting her. Or the way she absently rubbed her right leg like a nervous gesture. Sloane caught her hand, settling it on her thigh and holding it. “Maybe start with something lighter and work up to cyanide. A glass of wine? Some fruity drink?”
Kat’s grin flattened. “My parents have spotted us and are approaching.” She sighed. “I’m probably going to need that cyanide.”
Sloane put his back to the bar. Squeezing her hand, he said, “Your mom looks like you.” An older, more brittle version of Kat, but with the same shape of face and eye color. A tailored navy dress and pearls added polish.
“Looks are deceiving. My mom is a molecular biologist determined to prevent and cure Alzheimer’s. She and David, a neuroscientist, are very close to getting their latest drug approved. It will be life altering. A blockbuster.”
Her parents stopped to chat with a few people while Sloane tried to sort out the dynamics. “Your ex-fiancé works with your mother?” Awkward didn’t begin to cover that.
“Yes. The Alzheimer’s Project is my mom and David’s work, their baby. They’ve made amazing breakthroughs.”
Admiration clashed with rage, creating the turbulent distress swimming in her gaze. Clearly she had a complex relationship with her mother. With an appraising eye, Sloane faced her parents as they approached.
“Kathryn,” her mother spoke first. “This is unexpected. Where is Kellen?”
So she hadn’t told her parents about the carjacking, Kellen’s injury, or that Sloane was coming with her to the party. But then again, Sloane hadn’t forewarned her of his acquaintance with her father. Kat had a way of distracting him.
“Kellen’s busy.” Kat gestured to him. “Sloane Michaels, these are my parents Drs. Diane and William Thayne.”
“We’ve met.” William’s ice-blue eyes dropped to their joined hands on Kat’s thigh.
Kat glanced up at him. “You know my father?”
Yep, he definitely should have told her. “We’ve crossed paths. Your dad was on the planning commission when I was building SLAM Fitness and Training Centers in San Diego.” He left out the part where Dr. William Thayne had vehemently opposed the gym, claiming it promoted violence over fitness for health and therefore drew the wrong kinds of people.
She pulled her mouth tight. A new couple joined them, and Kat’s expression softened. “Sloane, this is my brother, Marshall, and his fiancée, Lila Colson.”
Sloane shook hands with the man who had to be a decade older than Kat. He had a slightly distracted air, and his face was sharper, more hawkish than his sister’s. Lila’s round face was framed in mahogany hair cut short and stylish. “I believe we’ve met, though I don’t recall where.”
“We’ve been to a few of the same parties.” She looked at Kat and back to him, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend their relationship. “My family owns Colson Jewels.”
“Of course.” Now he placed her. A former plus-one, Tamara, had a best friend from the Colson Jewel family. He’d probably run across her when he’d been with Tamara.
“Your hair makes you look like a rebellious teenager, Kathryn.”
Her mom shook her head. “Never mind, my colorist can fix that. I’ll make an appointment.”
“I like it.” Sloane couldn’t quite get a grip on the undercurrents flowing. There was definite tension between her and her parents. But her face had brightened upon seeing her brother.
So far, he hadn’t seen the ex-fiancé, David.
Her father said, “Kathryn, I need to talk to you for a moment. Michaels can wait here.”
“It’s Marshall’s party. I’m sure this can wait.” Kat slipped off the barstool and hugged Lila. “Congratulations. If my brother gives you any trouble, call me.” She grinned at her brother. “I’ll remind him how lucky he is to have you.”
Marshall tugged her hair. “Katie was a pest and knew how to get her way when we were growing up. I bought her an Easy Bake Oven once as a bribe to leave me alone. That kept her busy.”
A shaft of pain wrenched Sloane’s chest. Took his breath away.
Sara.
Christ, he missed her. The way Marshall tweaked a lock of Kat’s hair, teased her with real affection, ripped the scab off the old wound.
It fucking hurt to see it.
Sloane fought the urge rub the fiery ache in his chest.
“Kathryn, I need to speak to you now.” William took hold of her elbow.
Kat tossed Sloane an apologetic smile. “I won’t be long.”
Sloane should let her go. Stay out of it. He tried to focus on the story of how Marshall and Lila met, something about Kat’s brother giving a speech at a convention…
But he kept recalling how Kat’s shoulders had bowed as she walked into the house with her parents. Like she was protecting herself. From what?
Screw it.
He strode into the house, ignoring the various guests calling out to him, and went into the living room, which boasted dark wood floors and cathedral ceilings. He heard voices and followed them to a large library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a fireplace, walls covered in diplomas and awards, and four people in the room who hadn’t noticed him yet. Kat gripped the back of a club chair. Her parents leaned against a massive desk facing her, and another man stood to the side by a set of French doors.
