Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

I can’t picture perfect Kellan eating instant macaroni, but I don’t say so. “And if I told you I would do it? What’s the next step?” I force a tiny smile. It’s all for show, to buy me a minute to think, but that doesn’t stop my cheeks and neck from flushing like they always do when I’m aroused.

My stomach flips, but I hold my smile for a few seconds. With my free hand, I rearrange my hair. “Do you treat all your prospective dealers this way? Matt... whoever else? Do they all get an invite to stay in one of your rooms here?”

“What do you think?” He smirks.

“I don’t think so.”

There are so many things I would say right here if I wasn’t pretending to go along with this ridiculous idea of his. For starters, why the hell would I want to live with him? I can’t deny he’s hot as hell, and now that I know he’s a chameleon, he’s interesting too—but he’s also scary. Normal people don’t have so much... duality.

(I know what you’re thinking. You’re pointing your finger. But I’m not in the student government, and sometimes, on Saturdays when I’m at the house painting my toe nails, I wear a tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt. Yeah. The kind with the little dancing bears. I’m a total pot dealer at heart).

“They didn’t have to live here,” he says finally. “Neither do you. It’s an option. Can you see yourself staying here?”

“I don’t know.” I try to sound uncertain—like an idiot. “I think I’d miss my friends at the Tri Gam house.”

“I could make you forget about them.”

IS KELLAN WALSH PROPOSITIONING ME?

I breathe in through my mouth. “How?”

He doesn’t move, but I just know. I can feel the hum of tension in the air between us, and in that second, I get a wonderful idea. A devious idea.

He steps a little closer to me, sending my pulse racing. That reaction to him isn’t fake. His wide chest is inches from my breasts. I step forward.

My breasts mash against his chest as our hips brush. Half a heartbeat later, I feel his dick pressing against my lower belly. Wow... it’s totally hard.

Oh my God.

His hands come up and frame my face. His eyes, on mine, are hypnotic.

“I’m not going to lie to you. I want to fuck you, Cleopatra. That would be part of you staying with me. I’ll teach you how I do things and help you make more money. We fuck in between.”

I press my lips together. Holy fucking shit. I struggle to steer my mind back to my plan.

Kellan strokes his thumb over my lip, and I shudder—a real, live, turned-on shudder.

“Kellan...” I twine my arms around his neck and move in closer for a kiss. And when his soft, warm tongue separates my lips and strokes into my mouth, I imagine it between my legs.

I’m already wet for him.

That’s why it’s easy for me to tug him over to the bed. Easy for me to grab his collar and tug at his shirt, prompting him to pull it over his head. Easy for me to wriggle my way out of my red blouse, giving him access to my pale pink bra, the lacy one that makes my boobs look huge.

I have no trouble lying back on the mattress as he frees my breasts and sucks one of them into his mouth.

“Cleo... Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

I run my hands up his chest—a god’s chest: ripped and warm. I gasp at the pleasure of his tongue swirling around my nipple.

I gasp again when his hand unbuttons my gray jeans. He tugs them down my hips, then his fingers push past my panties and find my hot, slick skin. He spreads me open just enough to push a finger inside.

I grab at his crotch, feeling how ridiculously huge he is. I imagine him shoving it inside of me, and then his hands are pulling my pants off. His mouth is kissing down my belly as he adds another finger, stretching me so tight I can’t help moaning.

“You’re wet, Cleo. So wet for me. Let me make you feel good.”

And I decide right then, I will.

I will definitely let him make me feel good.