Chapter 38 Sly's coming to me. He's blowing off curfew and coming to see me. Right now. I yank my tank top back over my head, then grab a pair of sweats and pull them on before racing to my door. Jaime, one of my two night guards, stands up in a rush. "Everything okay, Sloane?" "Yeah, of course." I start blushing as I realize what I'm about to say-and what it's sure to look like to him and the other night guard, Johnny. Not that it matters, I remind myself. I'm a grown woman. I can have a man in my hotel room anytime I want. Just because I haven't wanted one anywhere near me for the last five years doesn't mean there's something wrong with me wanting Sly now. Especially since everything inside me says he really is as good a guy as he seems. I clear my throat. "I just wanted to let you and Johnny know that Sly is on his way over. Please let him through when he gets here." Jaime nods. "Of course. What time should we expect him?" "I'm not sure. Maybe about fifteen minutes or so?" "Gotcha." He smiles as he reaches for his phone. "We'll take care of him." "Thanks." I return his smile, then duck back into my suite. I race for the bathroom to brush my teeth, splash some water on my face, and try to tame the mess that is my hair. Even after I do all that, I still have several minutes to kill, so I pour myself a glass of wine to calm my nerves. Then proceed not to drink it as I pace back and forth in front of the huge bank of windows that lines one whole wall of the sitting area. From the top floor of the hotel, Los Angeles looks small and surprisingly calm. I want to watch at the window for Sly's Uber to pull up, but I'm sixteen stories up, on the opposite side of the hotel from the street, and I have no idea what kind of car he'll be pulling up in. Anxious much? I give up my vigil and start pacing the entire room. As I walk, I can't help wondering if I'm doing the right thing. The truth is, I don't know what I'm doing. I just know that I want to see him so badly that I'm shaking. And that's never happened to me before. Which is why I'm pacing. And wondering. And worrying. And- A knock on the door stops the thoughts running in obsessive circles through my mind, and I whirl around just in time to see Sly blow through the doorway like he owns the place. His eyes sweep the room until they meet mine, and then he locks in. For several seconds, neither of us moves. We just stare at each other as tension thickens the air between us until it's almost impossible for me to draw a breath. My whole body is vibrating now, every cell inside me yearning toward him until I no longer care if I can breathe. Until I no longer care if I can stand. Until I no longer care about anything but getting to him. Sly must see the surrender in my eyes, because the moment I reach for him, he kicks the door shut behind him. And then he's striding across the room, pulling me up and into his arms before I can so much as take a step toward him. The second he touches me, my worries-and the last of my inhibitions-drain away. "Took you long enough," I tell him as my arms wind around his neck, my legs wrap around his waist, and my fingers tangle in his hair. I yank his mouth down to mine. "Fuck," he groans against my lips, and then he's kissing me back, his mouth devouring me whole as I do the same to him. It's nothing and everything like the kiss at the observatory. The emotions are all there-the trembling need to connect, to hold, to be together. But with an overlay of full-on desperation. Lips meet, teeth nip, tongues tangle in a riotous cacophony of need and want and can't-get-enough. The kiss goes on and on and on. He tastes like lime, smells like sandalwood and clean water, and feels like everything I've ever imagined. Everything I've ever wanted. And all I can think is that I want it to last forever. More, I want this to last forever. I pull Sly closer, hold him tighter, and he does the same to me even as he spins us around and starts moving. One second we're standing in the middle of the room, and the next my back is up against the window while Sly's hands slide up and down my sides-all without lifting his mouth from mine for even a moment. I arch against him in response. "Please," I gasp against his mouth as need plows through me. "Sly, please." He pulls back, his eyes boiling with the same craving currently tearing through me. But he still takes the time to lift a hand to my cheek, to brush my hair back from my face. "You okay?" he whispers. "Not yet," I whisper in return, my hands sliding under his hoodie, my nails scratching at his back. "But I will be as soon as you're inside me." Just saying the words breaks the dam inside of me, but Sly stays where he is, gaze fierce on mine. "You're sure?" he gasps out, and I love him for his caution. For the care he always takes of me. But if he doesn't get his clothes off in ten seconds flat, I might just expire from unassuaged desire. I tell him so, watching as the words hit him and wash the caution away. His hands slip from my back to the waistband of my pants. And then he's yanking them down, trying desperately to yank them off. But my legs are around his waist and he's pressed to my core and I don't want to let go long enough for him to get them off. He laughs then, a low, deep sound that only ratchets me up another notch. "I'm going to need a little cooperation here, corazón." But his lips are racing across my jaw, my cheek, my neck, my collarbone, and he doesn't seem in any hurry to pull back, either. At least not until his lips hit the hollow of my throat and light me up like one of my concerts-fire, lights, heat, glitter, go. I push him away just far enough to get my hands between us. "I need to touch you. I need-" The words come out like a whimper. "I know what you need," he growls back, and then he's whirling us around again. "The bedroom's through-" I break off as his mouth latches on to mine again and I forget my own name, let alone what I was going to tell him. "Too far," he grinds out, moving the few steps from the window to the long dining table that takes up a whole side of the room. He sets me down on the table, then yanks my pants and underwear down my legs with one sharp pull. But I'm trying to get his hoodie off at the same time, my hands desperate to touch all that warm brown skin, and the fabric gets tangled together. "Stop helping," he gasps out as he finally manages to get control of all the mixed-up pieces of clothes and tosses them to the side. They hit the crystal chandelier above the table, and it starts swaying, then spinning, like it can't help itself. Light explodes in every direction, shattering against the night-darkened walls, scattering across the ceiling and floor in frantic bursts of silver and starlight. The whole room tilts around me, too bright, too fast-like the inside of a snow globe someone shook too hard. My breath catches in my throat as sparkles ricochet across my skin, Sly's skin, and for a second, it feels like we're spinning right along with it. It's chaos. It's magic. It's everything I shouldn't want and everything I do all wrapped up in one. Bright, wild, powerful, alive, hot. It's Sly and me and this one perfectly imperfect moment, and nothing has ever felt so right. His hands go to my tank top. My fingers go to his belt, his jeans. And then they're gone and it's just the two of us, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, heart to heart. At least until he pulls away and starts kissing his way down my body. His mouth is everywhere-on my breasts, my ribs, on the line between my heart and my navel. And then lower still, his lips and teeth and tongue making me feel things I've never even imagined. And for those long, desperate moments, I swear I cease to exist. Body, heart, soul-all gone. I'm not flesh anymore, just sensation. I'm heat and glitter, rhythm and want. I'm the pounding in my throat and the shimmer crawling over my skin. I'm the lights dancing across the ceiling, bright and breathless and free as Sly takes me higher. So high that it terrifies me to be there on my own and I reach for him. Hands sliding over his shoulders, fingers clutching at his back, body bowing up to meet him as he holds me. Anchors me. Keeps me safe in the maelstrom of sensations and emotions tearing through me. Because this is Sly holding me. Sly touching me. And he will always keep me safe. As if to prove my point, he pulls away just long enough for his desire-drenched eyes to meet mine. "Still okay?" he asks, and I know that he'll stop if I want him to. But I don't. I want more of him, want all of him. "Please!" I gasp out as I struggle to pull him closer. "Please. I need-" "I've got you, corazón," he whispers, one shaking hand sliding against my cheek. And then he's moving, sliding, his fingers twisting. Stars explode behind my eyes as I go careening over the edge, straight into ecstasy. "Sly!" He swallows my cry with his mouth as my body convulses around him-fingers clutching, legs tightening, core clenching. "That's it," he breathes. "Give me everything. Give me-" He breaks off when I scream. But I can't help it. He's pulled his fingers out of me, and it suddenly feels like I'm spiraling alone through the unknown, every piece of my body out of my control for the first time in my life. "Sloane? What-" "Don't go!" I clutch at him, my body straining against his even as I try to pull him closer. "Don't go, don't go, don't-" "I'm not going anywhere," he promises, shifting my weight to rest in just one of his strong arms. A rustle of foil, another few breaths, and then he's finally where he belongs. He goes deep, so deep I swear I can feel him in my soul. I cry out at the feeling of fullness. At the feeling of him inside me. At the feeling of finally, finally, finally having all of him. At the sound, Sly wrenches his mouth from mine. His eyes-wild, dangerous, pupils totally blown out-meet mine. "What?" I gasp, clutching at him. "Why?" "You all right?" he grinds out in a voice so deep and harsh I can barely understand him. "Yes!" I slide my hands down to cup his ass. "More. Please. I need..." I arch forward even as I pull him against me. "Fuck!" Sly snarls, burying his face in the bend where my neck meets my shoulder. He bites down hard enough to have me gasping. He feels so good. This feels so good. Like it was always meant to be. Like he's a part of me, a lost puzzle piece that's finally found its way home. The thought somehow sends me higher, has my nerves firing and my blood boiling even as it terrifies the hell out of me. I ignore the terror for the pleasure-the incredible, unbelievable, mind-bending pleasure-as my body goes off like an explosion, the walls inside of me shattering at the exact same instant, until the only thing holding all my broken pieces together is Sly. Sly pressing his mouth onto mine. Sly pressing his hips against me. Sly pressing my name through his tight jaw as he finally lets go. Wave after wave of ecstasy rolls through me, burying my every broken barrier until I'm incoherent, insensate, incandescent with pleasure. Until I no longer care about any moment that isn't this one. For a woman who's spent the last five years just trying to keep her head above water, it should be terrifying to feel herself going under. And maybe it would be, if Sly wasn't right here with me. But he is, and for now, that's enough. In fact, it's more than enough. It's everything. 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