Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

“Of course,” I nod. “I don’t want to get you busted.”

“Why?” His voice is sharp.

I glare at him, because he’s dodging my questions... leading me down bunny trails. I can feel it. “Why wouldn’t I tell? Because I’m not an asshole. Are you?”

“I’m not that kind of asshole. Come here, Cleo. Let me show you something.” He walks to a thick steel door beside the place where the wall seems to fold or lift up to accommodate a hook up to an 18-wheeler. He pushes the door open.

I can see the pines sprawl out behind him as I step closer.

“See that?” His left hand touches down on my back as his right points at the woods. I notice two lines of red dirt snaking through the pine straw: tire tracks. I nod. “It leads back to some hunting land off Highway 231. That’s a big truck. Dump truck. You know what’s in the truck?”

I shake my head.

“Fertilizer. Real black market shit, just what we need to grow our stuff. Comes up all the way from South America. Dude who brings it—he works for some bad guys.” His eyes meet mine. “Do you know why I told you?”

“No.”

“I’m telling you, Cleo, because I choose to trust you. If you really want in, I’ll tell you more. But I need to know that first. I don’t think you know that yet. That’s why I brought you here. I want you to see it—so you can know what you’re maybe getting into if you decide to do more than just deal my stuff.”

“More than deal?”

He nods. “You’ll make your mind up and if you want in, then we’ll talk some more. I think we could work together. Really work together.”

My stomach flutters. I want to ask what that means, but I’m too nervous. “Will there be an initiation?” I ask. I’m mostly teasing, trying to shift the tone of things a little—but he must not hear the light tone in my voice.

His eyes harden and his voice yawns down an octave. “Do you want to be hazed?”

I press my lips together. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Don’t tell me that.”

“Okay...” My voice trembles. “I take it back.”

He drops his head down like he’s going to kiss my mouth, but he diverts his lips to my jaw. He kisses me so tenderly my stomach flutters. His mouth crawls, warm and moist, beneath my chin—and then he bites my neck. It’s sharp and sudden, predatory. His teeth tear at my throat until my heart is pounding and I want to pull away. And then the pain is gone. His warm, soft mouth strokes me; his tongue soothes my stinging skin.

And when my legs begin to tremble, when I’m clinging to his shoulders, drunk from his strange ravishment, his teeth pierce me so hard I gasp.

“Cleo.”

My own name thrums in my ears like an exaltation as he nips my neck. He drags it out. He makes it hurt. I clutch his shirt and lock my jaw to keep from crying out. I moan. He’s going to hurt me!

And then his silken mouth, his graceful tongue.

He moves so fast, his hair tickles my chin. He moves like he’s hungry: harsh, thorough—and yet the whole thing is so gentle, I’m moaning with bliss. He trails down my throat and over my collarbone: nipping and then licking, marking with his teeth and following with his tongue and lips, biting and then soothing, punishing and stroking.

He sucks my tender throat between his teeth, and a moan spills from my lips.

In between my legs, I’m throbbing.

I wrap my hands around the back of his head, clutching him to me as I moan again. I’ve lost my mind... I press my hips against his thighs, gulping back air and exhaling in a low sigh. One of my hands trails down his nape and grips his shoulder as his mouth continues its assault on my throat.

“Kellan...”

He moves away. At first I think I’ve wrecked this, but he doesn’t step back. Instea