Sloth

by Lana Pecherczyk

  His lips crashed down onto hers. He was rough. Insistent. Demanding. Hot. And then his hands cupped her face, holding her in place, keeping her lips against his as if he feared she’d pull away.

  For what seemed a long moment, Sloan did nothing. She froze.

  It’s always you, Sloan.

  Then she melted against him and deepened the kiss. She was gone, lost in his passion. Soon, she didn’t know where her emotion began, and his ended.

  Ten

  Max had never wanted anything more than he wanted Sloan. He kissed her as if she was his air, his water, his sustenance. He had to have her. Had to make her see how much he ached for her, explain how she felt like home. She was the sense of belonging his empty heart had lost. He desired her. Needed her. Had to know if she felt the same way, and she did. She did.

  She might be too stubborn to admit it, but she kissed him like she missed him.

  Hard up against her soft body, he devoured her mouth, tongue dueling with hers, teeth knocking. She smelled good. Soft, feminine, heady. His hand dropped to her neck, to her shoulder. He needed to touch more of her.

  Touch her. Slide beneath her dress. Caress her bare skin.

  God, her ass. Taut and plump at the same time. Curves built with muscle and a little extra on the side. She lifted a leg and dug her heel into the back of his thigh, drawing him closer, nudging their desperate bodies together.

  She wants me.

  He ground into her, cock painfully hard and needing relief. His mind, a starved beast, wanted everything she had to give. Wanted it all. He’d dreamed of her for so long.

  The flat of his palm rubbed down her front, put pressure over the arch of her breast, felt the hard nub of her nipple pushing back at him.

  “Tease,” he accused and then squeezed. She groaned into his mouth, begging for more.

  “More what?” he rasped.

  “Everything,” she moaned. “More everything.”

  Then his lips were on her neck, trailing kisses down her front, down to where he rolled her sensitized bud between his thumb and finger. Tweaked, tugged, plucked. He stopped. Fingers tucked into the edge of her dress, ready to pry the fabric down and set her free. His cock gave a jerk at the thought, at the image in his mind of beautiful bouncing breasts, the same image he’d built to perfection over the years. Ragged breaths plagued him as he waited, watched her flesh fill and rise each time she took a breath.

  “What are you waiting for?” She stretched the fabric down, releasing herself.

  “You’re beautiful. Let me enjoy this.” Holy fuck, he loved it when she got bossy, but damn him if he rushed this. Damn this elevator. He wanted to take his time, to know every perfect inch of her pale, teardrop-shaped mounds. Dusky rose nipples. More than a handful—her tits were his fantasy come to life. She whimpered, impatiently, and he grinned, heavy eyes lifting to hers. “So demanding.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  He drew her breast into his mouth and gave a guttural groan around her flesh. Bloody hell. This wasn’t a fantasy. This was Sloan’s wet, supple flesh in his mouth and it tasted so good. He gave in to his desire. He licked, laved, nipped, and sucked while he kneaded and molded the other with his hand. Sloan’s fingers speared into his hair, gripped tight and pulled, crying out for more. More. More.

  The floor jolted and moved beneath their feet. The room tilted, and…

  Alert, Max drew back, his mouth popping off Sloan. “We’re moving.”

  “We’re what?” She blinked, dazed.

  “Crap.” Quickly, he lifted her dress to cover her, and then stepped in front of her in case the door opened. “The elevator is moving again.”

  “Now?”

  Focus, Max. Breathe. He picked his jacket up. When the doors open, just get out. Get Sloan to the room. He shot her a look. Feverish eyes and flushed skin. Black strands haphazardly over her face. A growl of sensual intent ripped from him. Get her into his bed.

  The doors opened, he cleared his throat, preparing for an interaction, but no one stepped in. The hall was empty, and Sloan was taking his hand and tugging him out of the elevator so fast he had to jog to keep up. Somehow, they fumbled their way into their suite, checked no one was home, and ended on Sloan’s bed.

  She threw him down and straddled him, dress skirt hitched up around her smooth thighs. “Take it off.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He trailed his hands up her thighs, drinking her in, sliding under her dress. His thumb found the juncture between her legs and pressed, causing her to mewl and grind down on him. He pushed the dress up further, revealing her panties. Red lace. Holding her hips, he ground upward with his own. A long drawn-out moan fell out as the sensation spearing through him, licking up his spine, dancing around his heart. Again, and again, he rubbed into her through their clothing.

  “Max,” she breathed, desperation lighting her eyes. “Off. Now.”

  He lifted her dress higher, but she slapped him away. “Not my dress.” She pawed at his shirt, popping buttons down the front. “Your clothes. Take them off.”

  Before he had a chance to correct, she’d ripped open his shirt, popping buttons off.

  “All good,” he murmured. “Didn’t need it anyway.”

  As she took the sight of him in, heat burst in her eyes and he received a shock of satisfaction. She so wanted him. She missed him. He was a fool to think otherwise. No denying it now. He sat up, reaching for her mouth with his, letting her guide the shirt completely off. When her hands began a slow, mesmerizing quest around his torso, he felt his chest swell. From the way she savored, he knew she’d fantasized about their first time too.

  She sighed appreciatively. “Okay, Max. I forgive you.”

  Every muscle in his body locked cold with rigidity. He swallowed. Forgive him? “What?”

  She rocked against him, and it took every ounce of restraint to put his hands on her hips and halt her movement.

  “What do you mean, forgive me?” he asked.

  “For walking out on me.”

  His jaw tightened. Heat prickled his face. No. Absolutely not. He pushed her off him. “You’re the one who walked out on me, Sloan. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Shock, then denial, then anger flashed in her eyes but he didn’t care. The cold bucket of water had been thrown and his desire was thoroughly doused. With all the too-ing and fro-ing, his brain had turned to mush. He shuffled to the exit. She still had no idea. All these years, all this hurt banging around his chest. When he got to the door, he pivoted.

  “For the record, Sloan. You didn’t wait for me.” He paused. “And I needed you.”

  “I needed you! You came, and then you left! What the fuck was that, Max? Who does that after seeing their girlfriend get wrongly blamed for murdering a building full of innocents?”

  He gaped. “I turned up, Sloan. I got called away.”

  “You said you’d quit.”

  “They needed me. A friend was in danger.” Gale. He’d been taken. Missing in action. What the fuck was Max supposed to do? The mate who’s family had basically adopted him after his parents died. The mate who’d saved his life countless times. The mate who’d taught him to surf and loaned him a stupid old seventies longboard when he couldn’t afford his own. His stupid smiling squinty eyes and stupid beard that wouldn’t grow. A band constricted around his chest, getting tighter by the minute.

  Hands on hips, her brow puckered in the middle. “I didn’t know that.”

  The deep breath he’d been holding expelled slowly. “Look. I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I don’t want to talk about this right now.” It was the truth. He was tired. She might not be, but he had to get some rest for the big hike tomorrow. Besides, she would ask about Gale, and he just couldn’t. It was too much. His raw heart barely pumped. Fuck. A few quick strides and he was in his room, closing the door behind him.

  Sloan’s fist pounded the door. “Max!”

  “Go away, Sloan. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
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  “But…” her voice trailed off. Maybe he heard her say she didn’t know. Maybe he heard her say she was sorry, but by that stage, he was already stripping off his clothes and turning the private shower faucet on, setting the temperature to scolding hot. All he wanted to do right now was sleep and forget.

  Fifteen hours later, Max trudged through the wilderness, strapped with his hiking pack and supplies. He followed three tireless Lazarus inhumans along limestone tipped mountainous slopes. A sprinkling of Aspen and Pine sheltered them from the view of possible roving drones. The trees thickened the closer they got to the encroaching mountain.

  Since they’d left the hotel that morning, he’d not said a peep to Sloan, despite her silent attention. He’d kept his distance. Her confession still grated. She believed he’d left all those years ago without a word. But he’d left a message. It was all he had time for. Granted, when he’d found out about Wyatt’s ex-fiancée being the cause of trouble in their lives, he should have suspected she’d never passed on his message, but he’d only learned about that a few months ago when Parker had hired him. Regardless, Sloan had the tech skills and resources to hack into military databases. She could have learned everything about his sudden mission, if only she’d looked. Instead, she’d taken the fact he’d not turned up as the end of their relationship. He’d been ready to marry her.

  She knew about Sammie. The thought contradicted every prejudice he’d constructed since their separation. Sammie was nothing to him. A means to scratch an itch, but the fact Sloan knew about that brief moment of his life meant that she had looked him up... just at the wrong time. Could it be possible this was all a miscommunication?

  “Stop here,” Parker announced as the group made it to a patch of trees. He pulled out his canteen to take a swig. As with the rest of the men, Parker wore just his gray battle pants and a simple T-shirt for the hike. They had protective gear packed away for when they got closer to the site.

  Max also took a swig from his canteen, letting the cool water run down his parched throat. When he was done, he surveyed the landscape. More trees. Mores slopes.

  “What does the GPS say, Sloan?” Parker asked.

  With her hair tied at her nape, black boots, dirty beige singlet and gray battle pants, she was the epitome of one of her favored gamer characters. The cross bow slung over her shoulder also added to the tough, but feminine vibe. Sexy too. After their episode in the elevator, he’d had the most intense hard-on the entire night. Even after they’d fought, and he’d sorted himself out in the shower, it came back. Every time he’d thought of her, which was often, he couldn’t get rid of it. He hated his body for already being there when his mind was not.

  Sloan went to Parker and conferred over the data on her satellite connected iPad.

  “Hey, dude,” Tony said, coming up to him.

  The man managed to look as though he’d sprung straight from one of his movie sets, despite coming in late, drunk, and with lipstick all over him. He somehow made the messy hair, puffy-eyed-bachelor-look like it was always meant to be that way.

  Tony clapped Max on the shoulder. “No hard feelings about last night?”

  Max frowned, trying to understand.

  “The elevator.”

  “Oh. Yeah, nah. It’s all good, mate. I get it, you were trying to help.”

  Tony inspected Max’s face. “Thought it would get you two on the same page, but guess I was wrong.”

  “Me too.”

  Tony slid a gaze toward his sister. “Everything cool?”

  Max also stared hard. He wasn’t sure.

  “How is it,” Max said, avoiding the topic. “You look like you stepped off a movie set, while I’m in LeBron James Sweat-Mode.”

  “I don’t do it on purpose.”

  It started as a joke, but Max detected a tone of resentment in his voice, and faint scowl on his face.

  Tony added, “But you’re used to this, right? The hiking, I mean. We’re not pushing you too hard?”

  “Yeah—” Max pulled his sweaty shirt from his chest and fanned the cool air in. “All good, mate. Piece of cake.”

  “So, look. Here’s the thing. Remember that time we had to go into that forest overnight, and it was just us and no superiors?”

  A smile tipped Max’s lips. That year Tony had spent training with his SAS regiment had been one of the best in his life. Tom-Tom and Daymo were there. And of course, Gale. “That’s when the boys started calling you Hollywood.”

  Tony gave an exasperated sigh. “Like I said, can’t help it if I’m beautiful. Where do you think I got the idea to act?”

  A fly buzzed and Max waved it away. “Thought you got it from those b-grade pornos you used to watch.”

  For a moment, Tony stared back with wide eyes. Probably because back in Australia, the only way to deal with a tall poppy was to cut it down, and Tony had been the tallest of all. “Stay grounded” was their motto. Max and the crew had spent their training time teasing the shit out of Tony—and they expected Tony to do the same for them. They used to tell him the only person who’d ever watch him star in a movie was his mom, and then it would probably only ever be a porn. That spawned a crap-load of mom jokes.

  For a minute, Max thought maybe the joke had worn off, but Tony smirked. “Good one, Johnson.”

  Max smirked, eyes crinkling. “I would add a mom-joke, but seriously, your mom scares me.”

  “Me too. Damn it’s good to hang out with you again.” The two of them chuckled and shared a quiet moment. Then Tony ditched a pebble at Max. “You know, if I’d been able to, I’d have gone back with you.”

  Max’s throat tightened at the reference to Gale. “Yeah I know, but I get it. It wasn’t your job. Not mine anymore either. You got important shit to do here.”

  Tony shrugged. “Sometimes it feels exactly like that—shit.” Max didn’t have time to query him because Tony continued, “Speaking of shit, I want to get back at Sloan for the stunt she pulled on me last night.” Tony darted a glance at Sloan, then lowered his voice. “So, you remember that time you all pulled that falling animal prank on me during that squad training in the forest?”

  Suspicion crept in. Why was he asking? “You mean the fake Drop Bear?”

  “Yeah. Let’s do the same to Sloan.”

  Max cast a wary eye to where Sloan stood, one boot on a rock, iPad balanced on a knee. Parker loomed over her as he re-tied his sweaty auburn hair into a masculine bun, biceps and pecs bouncing.

  “It only works in Australia. You don’t get killer koalas out here.”

  “What about some other animal, though?”

  “You want to prank her out here?” While they were on a mission?

  “Why not? She canceled my cards last night, dude. Picture this: two Victoria’s Secret models on my arms, end of night, about to head up to their room. I’m ready to go. They’re ready to go. I order at the bar for some late-night-action bubbles, and my black American Express card declines. That shit don’t decline, you feel me? Right in front of the ladies. Sloan fucking cock-blocked me, man. After I spent all night dancing like a fucking monkey, she rewards me with that. She has to go down for this.”

  Max stifled his humor by pressing his lips together. Sloan must have done that after he’d retired to his bedroom. “I’m staying out of your family shenanigans. I get enough prank backlash from Sloan as it is.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Sloan asked, coming over with Parker.

  “Nothing.” Tony clammed up so fast it was obvious he’d been talking about her.

  She snorted. “Probably about your lack of prank-game, bras.”

  “What’s this?” Parker growled.

  “She’s calling me a lady’s undergarment again.” Tony pointed at her with his thumb.

  “That’s because you are a big girl’s blouse,” Sloan said wryly.

  Max grinned. She’d taken that expression from him. He used to shout it at the screen when some loser pulled a soft move on him during a game.


  “She deactivated my credit cards last night,” Tony explained to Parker.

  “He trapped me in the elevator!”

  “You embarrassed me.”

  “Mess with the best, die like the rest!” Sloan got in Tony’s face.

  “Stop acting like juveniles!” Parker growled. His deep voice shook the surrounding Aspen. Birds took to the sky in protest.

  But the siblings paid no attention.

  Tony shoved her at the same time she stomped her foot. She lost her balance, slipped, landed palm first on a sharp crop of limestone and hissed in pain. “You asshole. You made me bleed my own blood!”

  Pain stab through Max’s palm and he hissed. Tony and Parker did the same thing. All four of them had their palms out, feeling the sting of a phantom injury, but it was only Sloan with the wound.

  “What the hell was that, Sloan?” Parker rumbled, shaking his hand.

  “He pushed me!” she snapped.

  “I’m not talking about your bickering, I’m talking about my hand hurting in the same place yours is wounded.”

  She tried to cradle her hand, to hide the evidence, but Parker crouched low and pulled it out on display. Gently prodding around the wound, he looked on in awe at his own hand, sensing the same flash of pain respond, just as Max and Tony felt in the same place.

  “You made us hurt,” Parker murmured, deep in thought, then flipped Sloan’s wrist to view her Yin-Yang tattoo. Max wasn’t certain what he was checking for, but had heard the tattoo was made with a special biometric ink that measured the amount of sin in their system. If the tattoo looked too black, it meant their sin was getting a hold of them. If there wasn’t enough ink showing, then it meant not enough sin was in their blood. Apparently, both extremes could be fatal—for others. She tried to snatch her arm away, but whatever passed between them had already been confirmed. Parker’s jaw tightened. “You’re perfectly balanced, Sloan. This is your power manifesting, isn’t it?”

  Max frowned, confused. Power? What power. As in, something like Evan’s electricity, or Wyatt’s invulnerability? How could her injury be a power?