More than hate you, p.8
More Than Hate You, page 8
It’s fine. I’ll handle it.
Once I find Sloan.
“On it. Hey, I’m checking in. I’ve got to go.”
“If you get something soon, call me. I’ve got another six hours before I head to London.”
“Will do,” I say, hoping that’s a promise I can keep.
Minutes later, the clerk directs me to sign an electronic pen pad, then hands me a key. “Your room is on the eighth floor. You have a great view of the city. Enjoy your stay.”
Normally, I would. I’ve been to Dallas. Good food, decent people, and the weather isn’t horrible unless it’s summer. Now I’m too ratcheted up to care. “Thanks.”
I glance at my room number, grip my luggage, and make my way toward the bank of elevators. In my hand, my phone rings. It’s Sloan. Finally.
“There you are. Talk to me,” I growl into the device.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “I got your messages. Shane is suspicious. He’s suddenly assigned me to a task force that meets tonight. He says we’re auditing some internal processes, and it’s an emergency because it’s extending random outages. I don’t know what to think…”
The fact it’s so last minute seems fishy. “Who else will be there?”
“He didn’t say. He just told me to report to the conference room near his office at five o’clock on the dot and to expect to be here until midnight.”
Jesus. Maybe I should risk breaking cover to go there and make sure she’s safe. “Sloan, I’m worried about you.”
“Honestly, I’m worried, too. But I have to believe he’s too squeamish and too lazy to be truly violent.”
I hope she’s right…but what if she isn’t?
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she murmurs into my thoughts.
“No.” She can’t leave me worrying all night. “I know it will be late. I know it’s asking a lot, but I need to see for myself that you’re safe.”
Sloan sighs. “Okay. I’ll do my best to be in the hotel bar as close to midnight as I can.”
I let out a breath. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. How will I know it’s you?”
“Oh, right. You’ve never seen me.” I hear the self-deprecation in her voice. “Well, I looked at your picture on your website, so I’ll find you. Gotta go.”
She’s gone before I can object.
Shit. Normally, I love dirty corporate games, but this is twenty kinds of clusterfuck. I need to start preparing excuses and lies now.
The rest of the evening crawls by. I text Sloan a few times. It takes her a while, but she eventually answers that she’s fine. Late in the evening, I pick at my dinner in the restaurant downstairs. About eleven, I head to the bar and order a scotch. I spot a brunette staring at me. She’s pretty. Really pretty, in fact. Normally, I’d be tempted to chat her up, buy her a drink, and persuade her to come to my room.
But all I can think about is Sloan.
At quarter before midnight, my phone buzzes. Shane and the team still can’t fix the situation. They’re pulling an all-nighter. I’m so sorry. Tomorrow?
I curse and down my scotch, slamming it on the bar before I tap back. As soon as you’re awake. You sure you’re safe?
Totally. There’s a small crowd. Shane is just being a jackass.
That’s nothing new, and hopefully he doesn’t turn into something more.
Ignoring the brunette still eyeing me, I walk away and head to my room. Her expression made it clear she’d welcome a drink and a laugh, maybe more, but Sloan seemingly ripped off my blinders. I don’t know if the brunette has a spine to go with those pretty wide eyes. And if she doesn’t, she won’t be interesting enough to hold my attention for more than an hour or two.
Or maybe it’s time to be honest with myself. I don’t want that woman because I not only came to Dallas to help Sloan stay safe and untangle her problems but to be with her—in every way she’ll let me.
I want her—like I’ve rarely wanted a woman.
More than Becca?
After calling the elevator, I disappear inside the car and let out a breath. For the first time, I’m going to willfully and gleefully cross the sacred line between business and pleasure. There’s something about Sloan—about the way I feel when I talk to her… I need to understand why I’m so hooked.
When I wake after a restless night, I grab my phone. My last text from Sloan came around three a.m., joking about being on her second gallon of coffee. I don’t dare text and wake her up now.
Hours drag by, and even though it’s a gorgeous day in Dallas and exploring the city is pleasant, the waiting chafes.
It’s after noon when my phone finally rings and her name crosses my display. “Sloan?”
“Hi. I’m awake and mostly okay. Last night was weird, but I ran across something when Shane sent me to his office to fetch his laptop cord. Well, I searched his office since I was there alone. I didn’t dare take the document last night, and Carissa tells me he and another group have been in the office since noon. She’s pissed she had to come in on a weekend, and they’re running her ragged doing their menial shit. Anyway, once they’re all gone, I’ll tiptoe into the office, grab this smoking gun, and come right to you.”
“No.” At the moment, I’m inclined to tell her to fuck the smoking gun. “Come now. We’ll talk about your find and figure out next steps—”
“This is really important. I swear. If I don’t grab it… I’m already worried when I go back it will be gone.”
“What is it?”
“You have to see it to believe it. I’ll be there about ten. Meet me in the bar?”
“Let me come with you. I don’t want you running into Shane alone in case he’s still there.”
“Jeremy, I can’t. It’s sweet, but…if we run into Shane, he’ll be doubly angry.”
“Tell him I’m your date, and you left something in the office you just stopped in to grab.”
She sighs. “Even if I did, there’s a security guard, and you’re not on the approved visitor list. Please. I know what I’m doing. I have a plan. Trust me.”
Sloan hasn’t left me much choice. “All right. I’ll see you at ten. If you don’t make it, I’ll come looking for you.”
“I appreciate your concern. It’s sweet. But I’ll be there.”
She ends the call, and I mutter a curse, then settle in to watch the Cubs play the Brewers while I do a little of the work I missed during yesterday’s travel.
At nine thirty, I head downstairs. People are coming in. It’s not congested yet, but it’s definitely more crowded than last night. I resist the urge—barely—to text Sloan and ask if she’s all right. Hopefully, the guy who fucks and sucks his way through most workdays is too far in his orgasm coma to suspect that she knows anything. Or too wrapped up in his “process emergency” to care about her now.
I find a table in a quiet corner and sit to wait. And wait. Ten comes and goes. So does ten thirty. Texts go unanswered. I start to panic.
Then the door from the street opens, bringing a gust of strong wind with it. In walks a redhead in a silky champagne dress that dips off the shoulders, nips in with her tiny waist, then clings to the lush curves of her hips before ending above her knee. She’s wearing a pair of sparkly platforms that wrap around her ankles, lending her petite figure a good four inches of height and making her legs look miles long.
Holy shit.
She stops in the middle of the dimly lit bar and scans the room, looking for someone.
Me?
On autopilot, I make my way to her, every hair on my body standing up and every inch of my skin tingling. “Sloan?”
I drag my gaze up from her pert ass in time to see her whirl around to me, rosy lips slightly parted and a blazing curl cupping the side of one softly rounded breast. I swallow.
One look at her…and I’m in deep trouble.
“Jeremy?”
“Yeah.” I hate lying, and before I leave town, I’m going to tell her my name. Now isn’t the time. “You okay?”
She nods. “I thought about what you said, about seeming like I have plans in case someone in the office caught me there, so I dressed up. I’m glad I did. I ran into Perez. He scowled and grilled me a little, but he let me go.”
Close call. “Thankfully. I’m glad you’re here. You look…”
“Tired. I know. I’m definitely feeling the effects of last night.”
Is she kidding? “I was going to say gorgeous.” I can’t stop staring at her. “It’s really a pleasure to meet you.”
“You, too.” She sticks out her hand, then retracts it with a laugh. “A handshake feels weird since I know you so much better than that.”
True, but I don’t want to make Sloan uncomfortable by assuming she wants more. “It does.”
“I’m a hugger.” She bites her lip, looking my way with eyes like a hazy blue day and a pouty mouth I’m dying to taste. “Is that all right?”
“That’s great.” I try not to sound lecherously enthusiastic as I open my arms.
She sends me a soft smile and walks right in. Then I’m holding her tighter than is strictly polite, but she doesn’t complain. In fact, she wraps her arms around my neck, puts her head on my chest, and sighs into me. “This will probably sound crazy, but I needed this. I feel safer already.”
“Not crazy. I feel better, too.”
A few moments pass, and neither of us speaks. I grip her. She clings. Together, we breathe. I inhale her hint-of-strawberry scent. It makes me hard. I exhale lust, watching with excitement as she closes her eyes, nestling her cheek against my chest, and breathes it in.
Fuck. We’re fully dressed and standing in the middle of a crowded public space, and I’m already more aroused—and invested—in Sloan than the last half-dozen women I took to bed.
Never mind being in trouble. I’m toast.
Finally, she steps back and breaks the connection. A laughing group of frat boys stumbling into the bar and 5 Seconds to Summer’s “Teeth” filling the bar ensure it’s too loud for me to hear her.
“What?” I mouth.
Sloan presses close again, lifting up on her tiptoes to murmur in my ear. And damn, her pert breasts rake against my chest. My blood boils in my veins. “I said that it’s kind of loud in here and asked if there was someplace else we could go.”
“My room is on the eighth floor, but if you’re not comfortable—”
“That’s fine.” She wraps her hand around my arm and smiles up at me. “Let’s go.”
Every time she touches me, my brain stops working. Worse, I feel my heart falling with an irrevocable thud at her feet.
I’m fucked. Absolutely, utterly fucked. She’s supposed to be a job. At the very least, I need to figure out who her spy is. All I can think about right now is getting her out of that dress, into my bed, and never letting her go.
Sliding my palm possessively onto the small of her back, I escort her out of the bar, abandoning my half-full scotch and leading her to the elevator.
In the bright lights and relative silence of the lobby, she turns to me with a frown. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. You don’t look much like the picture on your website.”
Shit. “Oh, you know. I hate having my picture taken, and I just…” I shrug off the rest of my reply, hoping she’ll fill in the blanks with whatever excuse makes the most sense to her.
“I get it.” Her frown deepens as she scans my face. “But from the photo on your site, I would have sworn your eyes were brown. But they look hazel green.”
I never noticed the fucking color of Jeremy’s eyes. “I get that a lot. It just depends on the lighting.”
I’m relieved when the elevator arrives. We step inside, and we’re blessedly alone. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to pull her closer. Part of me wants to settle Sloan against my body and has no problem seducing her for information. But the part of me that isn’t engorged and is still thinking rationally knows that if I do, once I tell her the truth, she’ll hate me.
Suddenly, making sure she doesn’t is really, really important. Examining why is terrifying.
Sloan merely sends me a nod and a little smile. “Thank you for coming. I know it was a lot, asking you to fly here. But I feel bolstered, like I can accomplish anything now.”
“You can. I’ll help you however you need,” I promise.
But with my hand still pressed to the small of her back and her taut ass mere inches below my fingers, I can’t deny how much I’m aching to help her out of her clothes and onto her back.
I clear my throat. “Were you able to get everything you need from the office tonight?”
She nods. “It wasn’t easy. I’m worried that if Perez mentions the fact he spotted me, Shane will be suspicious.”
“Depending on what you found, maybe you can take Monday off. Say you’re sick. We can strategize—”
“Once you see what I’ve brought, we’ll decide.” But she looks torn. “Maybe I read it all wrong. I keep hoping…”
Of course. Who wants to think that someone they work with is selling everyone out for their own gain? “Sure.”
After seeming to move as slow as molasses, the elevator doors open and I guide Sloan down the hall, to my room. As I approach the lock with the card key, I forcibly steady my hand to keep it from shaking.
Moments later, the door opens with a squeak. Inside, my room is dark, except for the moonlight shining through my floor-to-ceiling window, filling the room with shadows.
I usher her in. The faux wood slams, locking behind us. We’re alone. My heart pounds.
“I’ll, um…find a light.” I turn for the switch on the wall.
“Wait.” She wraps her slender fingers around my forearm. Her touch sends shards of lust through my body.
I turn back. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Then she shakes her head. “Actually…no. I’m worried that once you turn on the lights, I won’t have the courage to do this anymore.”
“What?”
In the shadows, Sloan searches my eyes. She’s looking for something. No, she wants something.
My heart revs harder as she drops her purse. Then she throws herself against me and wraps her arms around my neck. Shock assails me when she presses her pretty, pouty lips over mine and kisses me like she’s thought of nothing else all day. Or maybe that’s me. I’ve been concerned about her. But under all that? I’ve been dying to know what she looks like. What she sounds like. What she feels like in my arms. What she tastes like against my tongue.
This nibble isn’t enough. I need more.
I wrap my arms around her and haul her against my body. Desire burns, scorching my veins, singeing my skin. The press of her breasts sears me. I groan, grabbing a fistful of her dress. My other hand snakes into her hair, wrapping her silky tresses around my fingers.
I take control of the kiss, recklessly shoving her lips apart and delving into her mouth, driving deep with zero fucks given about anything practical like professionalism or caution.
Against me, her breath catches. She moans and grips my shoulders as if I’m the only reason she hasn’t melted to the floor. As far as I’m concerned, that’s an invitation to hold her tighter. No way I’m passing on that.
But once again, Sloan proves she’s not passive.
She pushes me against a wall and slants her bow of a mouth over my lips, not merely inviting me deeper but daring me to try and take back command of our kiss.
She doesn’t know yet that I never back down from a challenge…but she will.
As I plunge past her lips, I swallow her gasp and flare even hotter. She’s with me, gripping my shirt, biting at my bottom lip before luring me inside with her sweet taste again. I tighten my fingers in her hair, pulling at her scalp, and devour her.
Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I wanted a woman this much. Have I ever? There’s something about Sloan…
Her lips are a plush cushion for mine as I eat at her like I’m starved. She doesn’t simply yield but takes from me in return, greedy and demanding.
Until she pulls her mouth from mine with gasping, audible pants. “Take off your shirt.”
It’s an order, not a request. Not usually my speed, but my whole body is on fire for her, so refusing isn’t an option. One by one, I flick open the buttons down the front of my shirt and shrug it off, then toss it carelessly, never taking my stare from her.
Sloan looks me up and down. Her eyes flare with heat. Her breaths pick up pace. Through her dress, her nipples bead.
But she doesn’t waste time gawking. Nope. She lays her palms on my chest. Then one wanders down my abs.
With seeming reluctance, her stare climbs up my body to meet my gaze again. “You’re like a hot slab of stone.”
Thanks to the push Evan and I give each other in the gym. Speaking of…I can’t lose sight of my best friend and why I’m here with Sloan in the first place.
But when her hand wanders farther down, past the waistband of my khakis to settle over my cock, and she sucks in a sharp, shocked breath, I flash hot.
“You figure out I’m hard all over?” I challenge.
Sloan bites her lip. I’d think she’s suddenly gone shy…except she’s stroking me through my pants. “I suspected. I wanted that confirmed.”
“Satisfied?”
A kittenish smile curls the corners of her mouth as she squeezes me. “Not yet, but you feel well equipped to do the job.”
“Oh, baby. You have no idea…”
She hesitates. “This will complicate everything.”
No doubt she’s right. But she doesn’t seem to care any more than I do. The pull between us is too strong.
“Probably, but I can separate business from pleasure.”
“Same,” she whispers.
“Good.” Time for me to take over. “Turn around.”
She hesitates. “What are you going to do?”
“Undress you and make you damn glad you kissed me.”
Slowly, she turns, glancing back over her shoulder at me as if she can’t stop staring. “I already am.”
Fuck, yes. I can’t get her naked fast enough.
With impatient fingers, I grab the tab of the zipper and yank down, exposing her smooth, delicate back one pale inch at a time. Then I slide the fabric off her shoulders and down her arms, unwrapping her like a present. The dress falls from her torso, exposing her neck, her narrow shoulders, the elegant line of her spine blessedly uninterrupted by a bra strap, before dropping to cling to her thighs, giving me the full visual feast of the curved indent of her waist and the flare of her hips.
