“Stop.”
My voice comes out low.
A command, not a request.
Sloane freezes mid-step.
She turns slowly, arching that perfect eyebrow.
“Excuse me? Are you giving me orders?”
“I’m not sleepy, Sloane.”
I move toward her.
Slow.
Deliberate.
She holds my gaze, but I see her breathing pick up. I see her swallow.
“We’ve had a long day, Cohen. And tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow doesn’t exist,” I cut in, stopping a single step away from her. “There’s only right now. And right now, I intend to settle the score.”
“Settle the score?”
She folds her arms across her chest. The movement pushes her breasts higher in the bodice of her dress.
“Earlier,” I say, my voice dropping into something rougher, darker, “you drove me crazy. You took me in your mouth, emptied me, made me see stars. And me? I just sat there like a damn fool, enjoying it without giving you anything in return.”
I lean in.
“I don’t leave debts unpaid, Angel.”
She looks at me—and then a slow, unapologetically smug smile curves her lips.
No shyness. Just a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.
“You think I need a participation trophy, Becker?”
She steps into my space, closing the last inches between us.
“I did it because I wanted to. I liked having that power over you. I liked hearing you beg. Watching you lose your mind.”
She licks her lips—a calculated gesture that hits me squarely in the groin.
“You don’t owe me anything. My pleasure was watching you collapse at my feet. And I loved sucking you.”
Fuck.
That sentence.
That damn sexy arrogance.
My blood heats fast, admiration tangling with a desire so sharp it makes my head spin.
This woman is incredible. She doesn’t want to be saved. She doesn’t want to be coddled.
