Sloane’s hand comes up to stroke through my hair, gentle and grounding.
“You okay?” she asks softly.
I lift my head to look at her, and something in my chest cracks open at the tenderness in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I manage. “More than okay.”
She smiles, soft and private, just for me. “Good.”
I pull out carefully and deal with the condom, then collapse back beside her, pulling her into my chest.
She fits there perfectly, head tucked under my chin, one leg thrown over mine.
“That was—” she starts.
“Yeah,” I agree.
She laughs, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Very articulate, Brooks.”
“Give me a minute. You scrambled my brain.”
She tilts her head up to look at me, eyes bright and satisfied. “First time giving head, and I already have you speechless? I’d say that’s a win.”
I groan. “You can’t just say shit like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” She grins. “You taste good, by the way. In case you were wondering.”
“Sloane—”
“What? I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind doing that again.” She pauses, then adds with mock innocence, “Maybe tomorrow?”
I flip her onto her back, hovering over her. “You’re going to kill me.”
Her smile is pure sin. “What a way to go, though, right?”
And despite everything—despite the fear and the uncertainty and the weight of what I’m feeling—I laugh.
Because she’s right.
If Sloane Rhodes is going to ruin me, at least I’ll die happy.
I kiss her forehead, breathing her in—sweat and sex and something uniquely Sloane.
And lying here with her, feeling her heartbeat against mine, I realize something terrifying:
I’m completely, irrevocably in love with her.
And I have no idea how to tell her that without ruining everything.
So instead, I just hold her closer and let the silence say what I can’t.
—
The room is black and warm, the kind of quiet that only exists when you’re finally asleep for real.
Sloane is curled into my side, her breath soft against my chest, her hand fisted in my shirt like she fell asleep mid-sentence. I’m out too—heavy, gone?—
Until a phone starts ringing.
