Chapter 36 Sloane: Apologizing is pretty low on the list of things I want from you right now Holy shit. I read the text again and again, and each time, my pulse kicks harder. I'm not misreading this. I can't be. But if I'm not, then the woman of my fucking dreams just sent me a sexy text. And there's no way I'm about to leave her on read. That doesn't stop me from reading what came above it one more time, just to be sure. I don't want to overstep now that Sloane is finally opening herself up to me. But nope. I'm pretty sure there's only one way to interpret the signals she's been sending. Me: What DO you want from me? Long seconds pass before another text comes through. Sloane: I think the question is what do you want from me? Images flood my mind at her words. Not fantasies but memories. Moments carved into my soul. Sloane leaning into me, eyes wide and lips parted just a little as she invites a kiss. Sloane's cheeks turning pink when I compliment her. The soft, squishy Sloane peering at me from above those walls of hers. The Black Widow on stage in fishnets and thigh-high boots, a powerful smile on her lips. They overwhelm me. She overwhelms me. Me: Everything, Sloane. I want everything from you that you're willing to give. And I want you to want the same from me The truth pours out messy and unfiltered, and I send the text before I think better of it. But in the long moments that pass as I wait for her response, I end up second-guessing every word. Did I push too hard? Ask too much? My phone starts vibrating, and I grab it with the intention of sending whoever it is straight to voicemail. I've got other, better things to do right now than talk to my agent or whoever the fuck thinks two in the morning is the right fucking time to call me. And then I realize it's Sloane. And she's FaceTiming me. My breath catches. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. Holy fuck. I swipe right, and then there she is, in front of me. She looks different with her makeup off. Younger. Softer. But no less beautiful. Same brown eyes. Same lush red hair. Same flawless skin, though now I can see the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. It makes me wonder about all the other places she has freckles and if they'll taste as sweet as she did in the observatory this afternoon. "Corazón." I don't even bother trying to stop the slow smile taking over my face. "Eres un alivio para el alma." Sloane gives me a teasing grin. "I don't know what that means, but I like the sound of it." "In English, people say, 'You're a sight for sore eyes.'" I think about leaving it at that, even though the phrasing in Spanish translates a little differently. But I spoke to her in Spanish because those are the words I meant. It seems like a copout to hedge my bets now. "In Spanish, they say 'You're a relief to the soul.'" Sloane's eyes widen at the words before she ducks her head, hiding her pink cheeks behind her hair. My chest tightens at the sight-this global icon, this woman who commands arenas with a single breath, going shy because I told her the truth. And God, if she only knew... If she only saw herself the way I see her. Not just beautiful but radiant. Not just a relief to my soul but a balm for every broken piece of me. I want to get to know this woman with the pink cheeks. The truth is, I want to get to know all the Sloanes-the Black Widow, the songwriter, the performer, the woman she keeps hidden behind a wall. I want to know them all because I want to know the real her. And I want her to know that all those pieces of her-polished and raw, dressed up and unvarnished-only make her more radiant. I start to tell her as much, then decide to wait and see what she does. Where she decides she wants to take this. It's hard for me to sit back and wait, to not try to fill the silence and make things as easy for her as I possibly can. But I don't. Instead, I wait as patiently as I can manage for her to look back up at me, her big, brown eyes filled with the kind of fear you only get when you're starting to want something too much. I recognize it because I saw that same look in my own eyes when I got back to my room tonight. "Your last text..." She pauses, her eyes swimming with a thousand secrets. Fuck. I pushed too hard, pushed too fast. I start to tell her it doesn't matter, that all I want is what she's comfortable giving. But then she whispers, "I don't know how much of me there's left to offer, Mateo. I'm just a bunch of jagged pieces held together by glitter and eyelash glue." My heart breaks at her words. I hate that she feels that way. Hate even more that it might be true. But all I say is, "Aren't we all? I mean, I'm more a superglue guy myself, but even that shit cracks under pressure." I wait for her smile to flash before I continue. "That doesn't mean the pieces aren't worth holding on to." She looks away, and I can tell she's pulling back again. So I take a risk and meet her where she is. "You don't have to be picture perfect for me to want you. You just have to be here. With me. In whatever way feels good to you. That's all I ask." "You ask a lot," she whispers, and my heart falls. But then she adds, "I'll try. That's all I can promise you." "It's enough, corazón. More than enough." Once again, silence fills the space between us. At least until Sloane clears her throat and says, "I'm pretty sure this must be the worst phone sex in the history of the world." I freeze at her words, my mind going completely blank even as she stares at me expectantly. "I...have absolutely no idea what to say to that," I finally admit. "That's why I called, you know. I was sitting here in my hotel room, thinking about you and feeling all kinds of things I haven't felt in a really long time, and-" She breaks off with a laugh and a little shake of her head. "I just wanted..." "What?" I ask, heart in my throat. "What did you want?" "You," she finally whispers. "I just want you, Mateo." She says it so quietly I almost miss it. But I don't, and the words land in my chest like a promise I didn't dare hope for. For a second, I can't breathe. Because those are the exact five words I've been waiting to hear. I just want you, Mateo. I catch her gaze with my own and hold it through the screen as I tell her, "I don't know what you're talking about. Because this just became the best phone sex in the history of the world." That startles a laugh out of her. "Oh, yeah? And why is that?" "Because that's all I want. It's all I've ever wanted. You, to be in this-really in it-with me." In "A Relationship Kept in The Dark" by CrushReel, the storyline unfolds as renowned photographer Jane finds herself drawn to the charismatic rookie model, Hector. Little does she know that Hector harbors a secret—he is actually the heir to a powerful business empire. As their romance blossoms, Hector grapples with concealing his true identity to capture Jane's heart. However, their love story takes a tumultuous turn when jealousy rears its ugly head, threatening to unravel the delicate balance they've built. This modern romance novel delves into themes of hidden identities, unexpected love, and the complexities of maintaining a relationship shrouded in secrecy. With its blend of sweet romance and suspenseful twists, "A Relationship Kept in The Dark" stands out for its exploration of hidden feelings and the consequences of revealing long-held secrets. For readers seeking a captivating tale that combines elements of romance, intrigue, and emotional depth, this ongoing story is available to read at CrushReel. Immerse yourself in the world of Jane and Hector as their journey unfolds against the backdrop of hidden truths and heartfelt revelations.