“I said hello. That was about it. She’s nice, though.” Matty’s mouth quirked. “And yes, she’s hot. Cam Thomas has done alright for herself.”
“Maybe it’s Michelle Hamilton who’s done alright,” Sarah said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “Anyway, how’s things going with that boss of yours?”
Matty couldn’t hide it. “Pretty good.”
“Oh yeah?”
Matty nodded. “She’s… I really like her.”
The thought of Sloan hit hard and immediate. The kiss, the conversation around it, the flirting—all of it came back in one rush, low and hard and impossible to ignore. A familiar throb started—the kind that would usually be dealt with, only now it had to sit there and ache, because she already knew it was going untouched.
“Jesus,” Sarah said. “Your face just lit up. I’d say you more thanlikeher.” She chuckled and stubbed the ciggie out in the ashtray.
“She’s…” Matty paused, trying to find the words without making it sound ridiculous. “You know when you meet someone and you just feel comfortable—straight away—even though everything about them sends you into a tailspin?”
Sarah laughed. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
“That’s Sloan.” Matty pulled out a chair and sat down. “She’s direct. Doesn’t suffer fools. Intimidating, even.” She swallowed, heat still pooling, still insistent. “And then she’ll go and be the most open person I’ve ever met, even when you can tell she hates how exposed it leaves her. It’s not an act. It’s her. And she doesn’t apologise for any of it.”
Matty’s mouth curved, and she shifted in her seat, trying not to make it obvious what the thought of Sloan was doing to her. “And it’s sexy as fuck.”
The door down the hallway to Brandon’s room opened and a girl stumbled out, giggling, holding on to him as they made their way towards the front door.
“Alright?” Brandon said as they paused in the doorway. “This is Cheryl. We’re going back to hers.”
“Oh, okay.” Sarah stood up. “I guess we can get some sleep now.”
Brandon blinked, then blushed. “Uh, sorry.”
Matty and Sarah laughed.
“Right, I’m hitting the hay,” Sarah said once Brandon and Cheryl headed out. “Want me to wake you in the morning?”
Matty nodded. “If I’m not up by eleven, yeah—give me a shout.”
With Sarah heading down the hall, Matty pulled her phone out of her pocket. She’d had no chance to look at it all night.
There were two texts.
Sloan: I hope your night isn’t too busy.
Sloan: And remember…no touching. That’s my job.
Just reading it sent another jolt through her. It was the tease, yes, but also the quiet claim inside it. Sloan was plainly telling her that this was going somewhere—that Matty was not imagining it, and neither of them was pretending otherwise anymore.
“Jesus, Sloan.” The words came out rough. She rocked forward, chasing friction, the seam of her jeans pressing exactly where she needed it. The urge to keep going—to rock until she came—pushed hard at her self-control.
She stood up and made her way towards her bedroom, forcing her mind anywhere other than Sloan Slater’s mouth between her thighs.
She shut her bedroom door and leaned back against it, eyes closed, breathing through the sensation urging her to touch herself, letting the need crest and pass without giving in.
She hated how much she loved it.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered, the word landing somewhere between promise and threat. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Chapter thirty-nine
Sloan checked her phone. Still nothing from Matty. She tossed it aside and it vanished under the duvet as she swung her legs out of bed and stood.
