This is insane.
And I pray to God that I don't end up regretting the day I was born. Because if anyone has the power to make me rethink my entire life, it's Dane Strouse.
13
DANE
Ifollow Sloan inside after the truce we've accomplished and my stomach is already growling. It's been forever since I had someone make dinner for me, so I'm not turning down her offer, though I know it'll have some kale slipped in somewhere before all is said and done.
It was generous of her to admit her fault and offer to bleach her hair, but deep down, I know she's right. I've been hiding, and I don't want to force her to go into hiding like me. It's not the right thing. Facing men like Maddox is the only way to prove we won't back down and that we'll stand our ground. That's why I know I have to go head this off at its source in New York and hopefully, Jason can give me more intel and maybe a helping hand.
I move to the table and start clearing the dishes from earlier, stacking plates and gathering silverware. Sloane moves around the kitchen with familiarity now, opening cabinets and pulling out ingredients. She's making herself at home here, and I'm not sure how to feel about that. Part of me wants to maintain distance, keep her at arm's length so it hurts less when sheinevitably leaves. But a larger part—the part that's been winning lately—wants to pull her closer and never let go.
"Can you grab the cast iron pan?" she asks over her shoulder. "I don't know where you keep it." Her eyes briefly catch mine, and I nod at her and move toward the cupboard. She's at the counter, hands busy slicing potatoes as I set the pan beside her, and we're suddenly close enough to touch. But I don’t back away because I feel magnetized to her side. She's intoxicating, free-spirited and strong-willed but tender and compassionate.
No one has ever looked at me the way she does and no one has ever seen me for who I really am and not run away. I mean, sure, there were women who came and went, bossy, loud-mouthed, arrogant women who never gave a rat's ass about me or who I really am. And there's a reason none of them are here now.
And Sloane is special and somehow entirely different from the other women in my world. I have no idea why she didn't take one look at me and scream for help. She's had every opportunity to tell this whole town who I am, and I know it's not just because she's afraid and thinks I am her only protection. I see it when she looks me in the eye… Like now.
She glances up at me, and neither of us moves.
"You're in my space," she says softly, but when she swallows hard and I watch that slender throat of hers work, I know she's not asking me to back away.
"I know."
"I, uh… I can't cook with you there." Her eyes flick to the pan I set down, then rise to meet mine again, and I notice her pupils are blown wide. "Why aren't you moving?"
My body is planted, uncooperative and stubborn as hell as I think how she's right. My stomach is growling and I need to eat to think straight, but she smells so good—like lavender and coffee. "I don't know."
Her hand sets the knife down. "You don't know?"
"Being close to you makes me feel calmer." I'm not a vulnerable man, so that admission is painful, but it makes her lips tick up at the corners. "Which doesn't make sense because you're a complicated woman and sometimes, you're a pain in the ass…" I pause, watching her smile broaden. "But when you're near me, my mind quiets down."
Those long lashes drop then rise again, and she looks up at me through them. "I have that effect on people. It's why I became a nurse."
"It's not your nursing ability that makes me feel human." I reach out, tucking that same strand of hair behind her ear again. My fingers linger near her face, and she doesn't pull away. "It's you. Just you."
Her hazel eyes search mine, looking for the lie or the angle, but she won't find either. "Dane?—"
"Can I kiss you?" I ask softly as my thumb traces the line of her cheekbone and my fingers curl around the back of her neck. I'm not used to doing this in a soft way, but something about Sloane makes me want to do everything I've never tried before, like asking for consent.
"Now why do you want to do that?" she asks, and her lashes beat down on her cheeks before fluttering back upward.
"Because you might be the most infuriating woman on the planet, but you got under my skin somehow and you're all I can think about. So don't tell me no because if you do, I don't think I'll ever take a chance like this again." She licks her lips before I'm even done talking, and I feel her pulse racing under my touch, her jugular thrumming against my palm.
"Please kiss me," she whispers, so soft I have to read her lips to know what she's saying, but that's where my eyes are locked anyway.
I lean down, brushing my mouth across hers with the faintest physical contact, and the tension between us ratchets up so high, I think my heart will explode. I pull back slightly before leaning back in, this time kissing her harder and taking her breath away.
My hand pulls her in, fingers now tangled in her hair, and my other hand grips her hip bone, and she whimpers as her hands splay on my chest, but she doesn't push away.
"Dane," she mutters between kisses, but it's too late for me to back away now. Sloane is the only thing on my mind, the only thing I want, and I'm a foolish man for letting myself get carried away but for Christ's sake, I can't control myself anymore.
"I'm gonna need you to take your clothes off," I grumble, backing her until her body stops moving and I realize I'm pinning her to the counter.
"I'm gonna need you to promise me you'll come home from New York…"
Her words are a bit of a surprise. Hearing her admit that she worries I may not come back makes my attraction to her feel supercharged.
