Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

My eyes move back up him, over his lean waist and his muscular chest and shoulders. My throat is dry. I swallow. What were we talking about?

Our future plans.

I wonder what his really are. I wonder why he’s so intent on doing business with me. Could it really be as simple as it seems on the surface? Eliminate the competition—which just happens to be me? I should probably ask more questions.

“Do you do just the... um... M.J.?” I glance at the tall bushes that line our path, as if anyone is actually around. “Or more stuff, too?”

“You’re curious?” He gives me his beautiful, blue eagle eye.

“Isn’t that part of why we’re talking? Because you want to work together?”

His eyes darken. He stops walking, his arm brushing mine as he reaches up to touch my shoulder. “I made you come, Cleo. We both know that. We are going to work together.”

His low words drive the air out of my lungs. I can’t tear my eyes away from his. I gobble at the air like a goldfish on sidewalk.

“Is that why you got me out of class?” I feel a swell of warmth between my legs and suck another breath in. “Kellan—no.” I shake my head, finally finding my equilibrium. I step away, forcing his hand off my shoulder. “There’s no way I’m living at your house. I don’t want to deal for you either. No offense, but... no. My answer is the same. No way.”

He brings a hand to his heart. The intensity of a few moments ago falls away, leaving a thick blanket of charm that makes my chest feel fuzzy. “You wound me.”

I give a hoarse laugh. “You’re hot and everything. You’ve got a really sexy voice, you’re the kind of guy that people post in my slutty Facebook group but—”

His brows arch. “Slutty Facebook group?” An instant grin spreads over his face. “Cleo—tell.”

My face heats so fast, my eyes actually sting. I slam my palm against my forehead. “Never mind. Forget I said that. Please.”

“Are you an admin there?”

I take another step back and put my hands up again. “Slow down, Pervo. It’s not like you’re going to get to see. It’s a group for women. Smuffins,” I tell him, smiling just a little. I pull my shawl up and show him my long-sleeved black t-shirt, with its little, white Smuffin logo—an artful marriage of an “S” and a heart.

“That’s the logo?” He’s still grinning. Maybe smirking.

I laugh a little, real this time. “That’s the logo. It’s a women’s perv group. Totally amazing. Very fun. It’s more than that, too. It’s sort of like... a group of friends, who read and talk about girl shit. And smut.” I drop the shawl, feeling a little too exposed. “Anyway, they’d totally drool over a Kellan Walsh .gif, but that doesn’t mean I want to live with you. Or even screw you. No offense.”

“I am offended,” he says gravely. “You tell me you only like me for my looks, and they don’t even make up for my perceived... shortcomings? Is that it?” He looks mortally offended, and I scoff.

“You’re a—I won’t say what,” I hiss, “but we both know it.” I cut my eyes at him. “Let’s just put it this way: You’re the wolf, and I’m a lamb.”

“Twilight fan girl?” He makes air quotes around ‘fan girl’. His brows are arched.

“Familiar with the movie?”

We’re walking again, having fallen into an easy pace, still winding through the azaleas toward the Taylor building.

“Book,” he tells me. “Actually, books.” He smiles a little, looking secretive—and way too handsome.

“Did you read it for a girl?”

“A woman.”

I rake my eyes down his body and try to imagine her: the woman-not-girl who got a guy like Kellan Walsh to read the Twilight books.

“Her name is Dr. Merchant,” he says, with a quirk of his lower lip.

“You took her ‘Guide to Modern Publishing?’ Color me shocked.”

“The blows keep coming.”

I snort, trying desperately to pretend my heart’s not pounding every time his eyes meet mine. Trying to pretend I think about him what I should: that he’s a liar, a phony, and a threat. “Why would you want to write and sell a book?”