On a whim, I grab my phone and type out a text to Mal. She left the office with the rest of our team at five sharp, leaving me to sit in my office for hours and pretend to work while my brain ran itself ragged trying to figure things out. It’s almost nine now, and the relief I feel at finally thinking things through is quickly swiped away as uncertainty swirls in my gut. I don’t know how Mal is going to react to the content of my message, but she’s the only person I can trust to walk me through this particular minefield. Before I can chicken out, I squeeze my eyes shut and press send.
Sloane:I’ve decided to start dating again, and I want your help. Only if it’s not weird for you though…
A few seconds later, my phone vibrates in my hand. I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I read her responses, which chime in one after another.The little drama queen can’t be bothered to put everything in one response.
Mallory:Babeeee!
Mallory:I’m so excited for you, and it’s not weird at all.
Mallory:You deserve to be happy, Sloane. Eric would have wanted that for you.
Mallory:When do we start? I know SO many sexy ass men who would die for a chance to get at you.
Mallory:Wait! What about James?! The man is in LOVE with you.
I scrunch my nose up at the mention of that name. Mal still doesn’t know about the kiss, and I don’t want to tell her, since she might threaten to kick him in the balls the next time she sees him. Shaking my head, I decide it’s best to keep it to myself until I’ve had a chance to let Jamesknow once and for all that I’m just not interested in something romantic with him.
Sloane:First off, I love your dramatic ass so much. Thank you for not freaking out about this. Second, please don’t try to give me any of your thirsty throwaways who can’t get over you. Third, James is a no. I’m not mixing personal and professional relationships.
Three dots pop up immediately, letting me know she’s working on her response. While I wait, I clear my desk and lock up the office so I can finally head home. For the first time in a while, I feel good, excited by the prospect of a future where I’m not in danger of ruining all of the important relationships in my life with inappropriate attraction, and the knot of guilt and self-loathing that’s been lodged in my gut is starting to dissolve.
I smile as I crank my car, confident that Mission: Defeat Sloane’s Skin Hunger is exactly what I need to make that knot, and the feelings that created it, disappear completely.
Chapter 13
Sloane
Now
“I didn’tsayI don’t like it. Isaidit’s not right for this room.”
James pulls the box holding a brass crane bathroom faucet out of my hand and frowns at it. The same way he frowned at me an hour ago when I stood in his office and told him I didn’t think it was smart for us to have anything other than the friendly, but professional, relationship we’ve had for years.
It was such an awkward conversation to have, and I was more than proud of myself for getting through it without stumbling over my words, but a bubble of panic rose in my throat when a frown tugged his mouth downward. To his credit, he recovered quickly and pulled a tight smile out of thin air before telling me he understood what I was saying. He even apologized for the kiss and told me he hoped his actions on Friday didn’t change things between us, which sent a flicker of agitation through me.
Why do men think they can do things that change everything and then lay the burden of voicing exactly what it changed at our feet?
Of course, I didn’t say that to him. Instead, I let my years of socialite training kick in and flashed him a fake smile I knew looked sincere then lied smoothly about the kiss not making me see him differently and changed the subject to the bathroom fixtures that’d just arrived. The conversation led us upstairs to the Presidential Suite, where Dominic and his team were hanging drywall, so James could see the fixtures in the room. His request made absolutely no sense to me, given there isn’t anything here besides drywall, boxes of tile, and another man I need to have an awkward conversation with.
I glance at Dominic, who’s leaning against the partially installed vanity of the master suite with a flat expression on his face. He hasn’t said more than a handful of words since we barged into his construction zone, and James has only thrown a few nervous glances his way. There’s a weird vibe between them that wasn’t there before, but I don’t have the energy to care, because I’ve been arguing over the merits of a brass faucet for the better part of an hour and just want to go home.
“James.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and pray for patience. “It’s hard to get the full picture when you’re standing in a room that’s still being put together. Faucets and cabinet pulls are finishes. As in, meant to be installed and viewed when everything else isfinished, so you can get the full effect.”
The explanation comes off a little more condescending than I intend it to, but I can’t even find it in me to be sorry. We chose these finishes together weeks ago. I had to send a freaking gift basket to the manager of the supply store just to get them in on time, and now he’s looking at me like I brought in some builder-grade fixtures instead of a stylish, contemporary faucet that will go perfectly with the luxurious ambiance we’re creating for this room.
He tosses the box on the unfinished top of the vanity. “I know what finishes are, Sloane. Just like I know this isn’t the right finish for my bathroom. Find something else.”
And without another word, he storms out of the room, leaving me and Dominic staring after him. I pull in a long breath through my nose and hold it for a second before exhaling. There’s a dangerous mixture of anger and murderous intention swirling in my veins, and when I look at Dominic, his expression is a mirror image of what I’m feeling inside.
“Does he make a habit of speaking to you that way?”
I don’t know what calls to me first: the quiet darkness curling around his words or the thoughtful thumb rubbing across his lower lip as he considers me. Whatever it is, it hits me right in the pit of my stomach. Stroking the coil of desire there until it unravels into a continuous, undulating line that spells his name.
Fucking skin hunger,I think to myself, but even I can’t miss the fact that he’s not touching me right now. The reaction my body is having to him is caused completely by the muscle in his jaw that’s raging with righteous anger for me.
I blink slowly then shake my head. “No. James is being a nitpicky asshole, which is the exact reason Issac felt like he had to quit on the last leg of the project, but he’ll get over it. We had a…disagreement before we came in here.”
“Lovers’ quarrel?” Dark eyes search my face.
