More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

She answers by sliding her panties down her hips and kicking them free.

I would have done that for her—happily—but I love her enthusiasm. “That was efficient.”

“Why waste time when I know what I want? You could get naked, too, you know.”

Does she think there’s any way I’m not going to? That this doesn’t end with her spending the night with me? “Believe me, I intend to.”

“Maybe we could get to the bed?”

Since we haven’t even made it past the foyer, the crisply made bed looks a million miles away. “We can try.”

Later, when I’m deep inside her—if we make it—I’ll be glad for the effort.

Turning Sloan to face me, I intend to lift her against my body, take possession of her mouth again, and—hopefully—reach the elusive mattress. Instead, her nakedness stuns me silent and still. Her curves in all the right places have me gaping. God, she’s fucking beautiful.

“You’re staring,” she points out.

“You might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Sloan chuckles. “You sound so convincingly sincere. I’m guessing that line works. If I were less naive, I’d fall for it.”

Line? I take hold of her chin and force her gaze to mine. “It’s not a line, baby. You fascinated me from the moment we started talking, and I wanted you before I ever set eyes on you. But now…” I look her up and down again, lingering on the generous swell of her tits and the fiery dusting of hair between her legs. “You blow me away.”

“Not yet, but the night isn’t over.” She winks.

Normally, I’d love that answer. It’s fun and flirty—and sexy as fuck. But coming from Sloan, it bothers me. It’s flippant, almost dismissive. I told her something raw and honest, and she wants to be cute?

“I’m not asking you to blow me. I’m asking you to be real with me.”

Something I can’t decipher crosses her face. Confusion? Wariness? Then she sighs. “All right. You fascinated me from the moment we started talking, too. I told myself it wasn’t smart to think about you as anything more than a consultant. But I couldn’t stop. You’ve listened to me like few people in my life have. I don’t know how the hell you’re single or why you and Aria broke up…”

But Sloan wants to know.

“She got pregnant”—since I hate lying even more to Sloan, I refuse to finish that sentence with a truth that’s not my own—“by someone else.”

Sloan looks stunned, but thankfully she doesn’t feel sorry for me. I couldn’t handle her wasting pity on a wound that isn’t mine. Guilt doesn’t belong on the dirty side of business, and feeling it now would be the death of me.

“That’s horrible,” she says finally.

I’m sure it sucked for Jeremy and will leave a gaping wound in his family. “Yes, but none of this is about her, just how I feel when I’m with you.”

My feelings go deeper than friendship, deeper than lust. I’m not sure how to categorize it, but it’s something I’ve never felt before. It ties me up and makes me anxious, mostly when I think about this weekend ending and letting Sloan go.

Well, and telling her who I really am.

Later. Now might be my only opportunity to convince her the feelings between us are real so that when I confess the truth, she won’t turn her back on me forever. That’s important…but so is winning enough of her trust to divulge how she knew about Stratus’s presentation to Wynam.

I’m in a fucking tough position. It would be easy to blame Evan, but I blame myself. I don’t get emotional in business—ever.

Sloan changed that.

“Good to know. So are we going to make it to the bed?”

Her impatience makes me smile, but her instincts are right. I should be in the moment. Thinking now only gives me—and her—too much time to second-guess everything.

Because right or wrong, I can’t resist Sloan. I need her closer to me. I need to know what she feels like when she’s under me, around me, and crying out for me when she comes. And I need to give her a reason to still want me once the shit hits the fan.

I nod. “Put your arms around me.”