Sir's Redemption (Doms of Decadence 8)

Alex nodded slowly. “I get that.”

“Apparently, she was ashamed. Her asshole ex cleared their accounts and took off to Ibiza with his bit on the side, leaving her with all his debts. He’d duped her into putting her name on everything.”

“Bastard.”

Yep. If Sloan ever got his hands on that jerk . . .

“She thought she had to take care of it all by herself.” That was on him. He should have made certain she knew she could lean on him about anything. Even money.

“Do you think I’m weird about money?”

Alex snorted. “Is the Pope Catholic?”

He looked over at the dark-haired Dom. Sometimes the way he held himself reminded Sloan a bit of James. His way of speaking was similar, but the resemblances ended there. James was a ruthless son of a bitch, who only cared about himself. Alex had proven himself a good friend despite their differences.

“You’re always making digs about my money, my upbringing.”

“I’m just joking.” Sloan felt uncomfortable.

“Is it? Most people might see it that way and laugh, but there’s a little bit of bitterness under there.”

Was there? Maybe. James had thought his wealth meant he could get away with anything, but he hadn’t thought it had affected him. Maybe it had, though. Maybe that made it difficult for Kinley to talk to him about this.

“Kinley has always struck me as a pretty straight shooter. She’s level-headed, kind, and sweet, a little unsure of herself, but you can help her build up her confidence. She’s good for you. I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with her. And when she looks at you, her face lights up. Don’t throw something good away because of your past. Don’t let her do the same because of hers. Seems to me you’ve both been hurt before. Maybe you should be helping each other, not pushing each other away.”

Sloan tapped his fingers against the bar.

“Go to her. Make her talk about her shit. Talk about yours. Spank her ass for keeping stuff from you. You could let her do the same to you for holding back as well.”

He growled at the other Dom. “Not happening.”

Alex grinned. “Ah, but the thought of it is funny as hell. I could see Kinley dressed in leather, wielding a whip.”

Like hell. “Stop thinking about my sub in leathers.”

His sub. This distance had to stop. Now.

“Don’t let something good pass you by because you’re too pig-headed to forgive her. You’re tarring her with someone else’s sins. Kinley’s special. You let her go, and someone else will snap her up.”

Over his dead body. She was his.

10

This was her boyfriend? Really?

After a poor night’s sleep, James had decided to go for an early morning run to clear his head. For years Frank, his head of security, had been urging him to run with bodyguards, but James hated having someone follow him around all the time.

Having a bodyguard would be a smart idea, and James was a smart man but he was also extremely private and the last thing he wanted was someone knowing his business. So, he ignored Frank’s very helpful advice.

Still, he tried to stick to public routes when he was running, and he didn’t go too early or late. He wasn’t an idiot.

This morning was a different story. He’d set out at six a.m. after tossing and turning all night, thinking of Kinley. When he returned to the office, it was only just after seven. There were still very few people around, which is why he took notice of the guy crouched next to Kinley’s car. For one foolish moment, he thought it might be a thief. Then he remembered, Kinley’s car was a piece of crap. Stealing it would probably be the best thing that could happen to her.

That’s not to say he hadn’t thought about having it towed away and crushed, but he figured that was probably a little high-handed.

Then he noticed the guy open the door with a key before he popped the hood. His already loose jeans slid further down, revealing the hairiest ass James had ever had the misfortune to see. He’d seen a few in his time. BDSM clubs didn’t tend to be filled with the shy and retiring types. Not that he made a habit of staring at men’s asses. With a grimace, he looked at the black, beaten-up truck he stood next to. No sign to show this man was a mechanic, and it wasn’t a tow truck. He had to be the boyfriend.

A loud burp greeted his ears.