Chapter 37 Sly's words hang between us, a mixture of awe and satisfaction turning his face into something I know I'll dream about later. His eyes have gone coffee brown, and his chest rises and falls like he just ran the entire length of a football field. And I'm enjoying every second of it. It's a heady thing, being looked at like that by a man I actually want. Sly's not the first person to look at me with that kind of need-he's not even the first one to do it tonight. But he is the only one who matters. The only one I'm looking back at in exactly the same way. "Well then, it's your move, corazón," I tell him in a lightly mocking tone. Because I need to say something-anything-to make it seem like I've got control of myself, if not the actual situation. It's not true, but like everything else in my life, I can pretend until it is. Maybe. "You're so fucking beautiful," he says, his voice somehow reverent and wrecked at the same time. "That's not much of a move," I tell him with a raised brow. "No move," he agrees. "Just the truth. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." Normally, that compliment doesn't do anything for me-a lot of people have told me I'm beautiful through the years, and it seems silly to get all worked up over something I have no control over, something that's more about genetics and good makeup than anything I've chosen. But the way Sly says it, all joy and light, makes my toes tingle and my heart trip over itself. "I feel the same way about you," I answer before I can think better of it. "And here I thought I was supposed to be rugged and handsome?" He raises an eyebrow. I snort. "Says who?" "No idea." He grins. "I think I read it in a GQ article once." I laugh, and the tension between us loosens just enough that I can breathe normally. At least until he reaches up to brush that stubborn curl out of his eyes and I get sidetracked by his hands. Those hands. The ones that held me so carefully this afternoon. That made me tremble even as they made me feel safe. "I like your hands," I blurt out. Jesus. What is wrong with me? It's like my hormones have overridden every other cell in my body-including my brain cells. "These old things?" He holds one up for me to see the cuts and callouses on his broad palm and long fingers. "You're so soft, it feels wrong to touch you with them." "But I want you to touch me." The words pour out, a secret my voice-like my body-can't help but tell. "I like how strong they are and how gentle you are when you touch me with them." He pauses for a moment, and this time when he speaks his voice drips like honey and aches like truth-slow, overwhelming, devastating. "I'll always be gentle when you need me to be." Something in me splinters even more. The piece that still isn't used to being handled like I'm precious instead of broken. Like I'm allowed to want softness and not be ashamed of it. It's a lot-maybe too much for me to handle right now-so I whisper, "Ditto," just to watch him light up. I'm not disappointed. Sly laughs, soft and intimate. His brown eyes are warm as they search my face. "So there it is," he says. "Whatever happens, we'll be careful with each other, Sloane." I love the way he calls me his heart. But I love even more the way he calls me Sloane when he thinks what we're talking about is important. "I-" My voice breaks as his words engulf me. "I don't want to hurt you, Sly. Wherever this goes, whatever happens, I don't want to hurt you." It's his turn to pause. His turn to search my eyes. But all he says is, "Why don't you let me worry about that?" "Oh, yeah?" I lift a brow. "And what exactly should I worry about, then?" "Whatever you want." I run my eyes over every part of him that I can see on this damn app. "That's a dangerous thing to say to a woman like me." He grins. "Good thing I'm built for danger." "You talk a big game, Sylvester." "Only because I'm hoping to back it up in person sometime soon." His voice is low and shiver-inducing, and I can feel it in all my secret places-even those I've barricaded behind walls for protection. "Define soon." The words slip out, aching, hungry. I can see in his eyes when they hit, can feel it in his sudden intensity as he leans in just a little. Like he could close the distance between us through the screen. "Just as soon as you invite me." The need grows inside me, a warm, trembly thing that threatens to break me wide open. "Consider this your invitation," I answer. And holy shit. Is that my voice sounding all husky? All needy? I barely recognize it, even before I continue. "I want you here with me. Now." It's a big admission for me, one that has my stomach twisting and my breath weighing heavy in my chest. Fear trembles beneath the bravado, and I start trying to walk it back. "I'm sorry. I know you've got the fundraiser in a few hours. And the game the day after that. And-" "Hey." Sly doesn't move, but his voice-low and smoky and dominant-takes control of my rambling and has me stopping mid-sentence. "I've told you I've got you, Sloane. I've got you." "What does that mean?" I hold my breath, almost afraid of the answer. "It means, if you want me there, I'm there." He throws back the covers, and I'm treated to a view of Sly in nothing but black Armani boxer shorts until he grabs a pair of jeans and yanks them up his legs. "What are you doing?" I ask, eyes wide. "Coming to see you." Now his voice is warm caramel over steel. "I'll be there in twenty minutes." Alarm and anticipation shoot through me in the same breath. "You can't! Your curfew-" "Fuck curfew." He grabs a sweatshirt and pulls it on before making sure the hood stays up to hide as much of his face as possible. "I want to see you, too." "Won't you get in trouble?" I ask. "I don't want you to get in trouble-" "I won't stay long. But I need to hold you. For real this time." He grabs his wallet and room key, shoving both in his back pocket. "Sly..." I press a hand to my chest like I can steady the riot inside me. I shouldn't want this-I shouldn't want him-but I do. It's terrifying, but it's also the first thing that's felt real in a long, long time. And it's the first thing that's felt right in even longer. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob, and for the first time, he looks uncertain. "What?" "Hurry." Relief floods his face as he pulls open the door and strides into the hall. "I'm already on my way." 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.