More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

“Made you feel good, I hope.”

“More than I was ready for.”

She had to brace for orgasm? “We’re just getting started.”

“As great as that was, I’d rather feel good with you,” she whispers. “Finish undressing. I brought condoms. They’re in my purse.”

I’m surprised. “You planned to have sex with me?”

Sloan looks sheepish. “I hoped. But I wasn’t presuming too much after all.”

“No.” I grin. “I bought condoms, too.”

“Good. We’re prepared.” She sits up and bounces to the edge of the mattress.

I lean in to kiss her. The view is so arousing, I can’t resist. But it’s not just that. There’s something about her. I feel compelled to touch her.

But she turns her head and wags a finger at me. “None of that. Or we’ll never get you naked and gloved up.”

Hell, she’s probably right.

“Hurry.” I cup her luscious ass as she heads for her purse.

Sloan tosses a grin over her shoulder, then bends for her big bag. Eagerly, I drop every stitch I’m wearing.

“Lie back, okay?” She comes closer, clutching what I suppose is a box in her hand. “I love to be on top.”

I have no objections. The view will be spectacular.

“Anything to make you happy, baby.” I get supine and watch her sway closer.

Without a hint of shyness, she straddles me, then takes my hands in hers, lacing our fingers together. Then she rubs herself along every inch of my hard cock until a guttural groan falls from my chest and I have to close my eyes against a detonation of tingles that leave me uncomfortably close to exploding.

Holy fuck, this is going to be amazing.

Suddenly, something snaps around my wrist. Frowning, I open my eyes in time to see her attach my now-cuffed hand to the pull of the nightstand drawer.

“Sloan?” What the fuck is she doing? I don’t mind bondage, but I prefer to do the binding.

Her face turns hard as she pushes away from the bed and starts wriggling into her dress.

“What the hell is going on?” I snarl.

She steps into her shoes, picks up her purse, then flips on the overhead light, flooding the room with brightness and leaving me totally exposed. “Did you really think I was that stupid? That gullible?” Her silent laugh is cynical. “You thought you were going to fuck me. You know what, Sebastian Shaw? Fuck you.”

My heart stops. Oh, shit. She knows who I am?

I scramble for a convincing cover story or any plausible way to deny the truth. But her face warns me. She knows beyond a doubt. “When did you figure it out?”

“Ironically enough on April Fool’s Day. Imagine my shock when I faxed some shit I found in Shane’s office to Jeremy to get your take on a document, and he called me immediately to ask who I was and what the hell the document was about.”

I can picture that…and it’s not good. I fucked up by not keeping Jeremy in the loop. Sure, I wanted Sloan to know the truth, but not like this. “Baby…”

“Oh, don’t ‘baby’ me. That ship sailed, asshole, the minute Jeremy fessed up. At first, I thought you were pranking me. But he didn’t sound like you. And he didn’t seem like you. I mean, he actually came across as a good guy.”

Ouch. “Sloan, listen—”

“No. You listen. You asked me a question; I’m answering with the truth—which is way more than you gave me,” she points out sharply.