Dirty Obsession (Dirty 1)

Wes takes Sloane in his arms. “I just want everything to be perfect for you, baby. I don’t care about a little sweat.”

I can’t help but laugh to myself when Wes calls Sloane baby. She seems like anything but a baby to me.

Wes’s phone rings, and he steps away to answer it.

“We need to talk,” Sloane says, hissing through her teeth in a similar way that she did two days ago when she spoke to me on the beach.

“Then, talk,” I say, adjusting the jacket, and looking at myself in the mirror. I look strange in a tux and not just because I’m wearing a T-shirt under the jacket, but also because it is the complete opposite of who I am. I hate fancy things.

I see Sloane staring at me in the mirror, and then her eyes dart to Luther and back to me. I smile. She wants to talk to me alone.

“I don’t have lunch plans. Would you and Wes like to join me for lunch?” I ask.

Wes walks back over. “What is this about lunch?”

“I thought we should all go have lunch together, so I can get to know your fiancée a little better.”

“I wish I could join you, but that was Elijah. His car broke down. He needs me to pick him and Cody up and bring them to the tux fitting. But you two should go. It would make things easier if you two got along,” Wes says.

“I’ll just get changed, and then we can go. I’ll let you pick the place,” I say before heading into the dressing room to change.

I put my swim trunks, T-shirt, and sandals back on while I listen to Wes and Sloane whisper to each other. I can’t make out what they are saying, but it doesn’t sound like happy whispering.

When I open the curtain separating me from them, they stop and both put fake smiles on their faces.

“Ready to go?” I ask Sloane.

She nods.

* * *

I sit down at the booth across from Sloane in the swanky restaurant she chose to have lunch at. I don’t have to open the menu to know that the prices are outrageous. Most places on the island are expensive. This is just over the top.

I’m not opposed to having a good meal or even going to a swanky place on occasion but not for lunch, especially when I doubt we are even going to be able to make it through this meal.

Sloane is wearing a pale yellow dress and heels today. She looks hot as hell, and it makes me want to take her into the restroom and rip the dress off of her. I won’t. That’s not my game. But I can still imagine it.

“What are you grinning about?” she asks.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“You, naked.”

She rolls her eyes. “You really are a one-track-mind kind of man, aren’t you?”

I shrug. “So, what did you want to say?”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

I smile and lean back in the booth, extending my arm on the back of the cushion. A nicely dressed woman at the table over gives me a disgusted stare.

“Now, who has a one-track mind?”

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“White wine,” Sloane says, clearly needing a drink to get through this meal.