“Apologize,” I said mildly. It was a game we’d played when we were different people, and I probably should have left it in the past where it belonged.
“Okay! Okay! It’s the bachelor pad of a hot, wealthy guy whose designer has no personality,” she screeched.
My bedroom was done in rich browns. Large, dark furniture dominated the space and was softened by expensive ivory bedding and heavy curtains that currently blocked out the world.
“Try again.”
“Agh! Okay! I’m sorry! You have a very nice place. I definitely don’t hate it.”
I gave her rounded ass a resounding slap and released her foot. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“That’s what she said.” Her voice was muffled by the pillow.
“That’s not what she said twenty minutes ago,” I reminded her, coasting my hand over her bare shoulders, down the silky skin of her back, drawing the sheet with me so I could memorize each notch in her spine.
Her body was a fascination. Generous curves packed in a tiny, feisty package. I never knew what was going to come out of her mouth next. An insult or a demand for me to defile her in a new way.
It had been a gamble, bringing her here. The less Anthony Hugo and his minions knew about my life, the better. But I’d laid enough false leads for them with the tracker on the company car this week before removing it. Besides, if his men spotted me with Sloane here, she would just look like some woman his enemy was fucking. In Knockemout, it would be clear she was much, much more.
I lowered myself over her and sank my teeth into one luscious curve of her ass.
“Did you just bite me?” Sloane demanded as I leaned back to admire my handiwork.
“I’m giving you a souvenir to remember our final weekend of debauchery,” I said.
She clambered to her knees on the mattress and faced me, looking like a golden-haired goddess. I wanted her. Again and again and again. And each time I had her, I realized it still wasn’t enough.
“In that case, I get to give you one too,” she announced.
She pounced and I let her push me over backward, enjoying the feel of her warm, soft body in my arms. Her sleek thighs straddled my own, and when her hand gripped my already hard shaft, I had to grit my teeth to keep from groaning.
“Not there,” I growled.
She pouted.
My phone rang from the bedside table.
“Does your admin usually call you at 10:00 p.m. on Valentine’s Day?” Sloane asked, peeking at the screen.
“Neither one of us has a life,” I explained before answering the phone. “Petula, you’re on speakerphone and I’m not alone.”
“Has the world ended and I’m unaware?” Petula demanded.
“Very funny. What do you want?”
“Representative Houser wants to move your lunch forward an hour tomorrow.”
I glanced up at Sloane, who was releasing her hair from its knot. “Reschedule it. I’m busy this weekend.”
“Does this have anything to do with your company tonight? You really should let me run a background check on her.”
“You already did and it’s just business,” I lied.
A pillow hit me in the face. Sloane pointed at her bare breasts and mouthed, “Business”?
“I have to go, Petula. Something’s come up.”
Sloane smugly studied my hardening cock.
“Wait. While I have you, I need you to go to this address and take the man who lives there shopping for a new suit this week,” I said, then rattled off Emry’s address. “Something that says eligible widower, not befuddled grandfather.”
“Consider it done,” Petula said. “One final thing. I confirmed your reservation for you and your lady friend next Thursday evening.”
Sloane’s eyes narrowed.
Shit.
“Thanks, Petula. Take the weekend off,” I said quickly. I disconnected just as my blond bed partner vaulted off the bed.
“Sloane,” I said sternly.
“Don’t even try it,” she said, grabbing something off the floor. It was the lacy corset I’d ripped off her. She threw it over her shoulder and bent again.
“Are you actually jealous?” I demanded, amused.
“Of course not,” she huffed. “I just don’t want to be cavorting with a penis that’s cavorting with other vaginas. It’s not hygienic.”
Sloane Walton was unlike any other woman I’d ever taken to bed. “I’m not cavorting with other vaginas,” I said dryly. “Where are you going?”
“If you think I’m just going to take your word for it, you’re an idiot,” she said, gathering her discarded clothing off the floor.
“I’d like to point out that of the two of us, you’re the one actively pursuing men on a dating app.”
“I’m not sleeping with any of them. Yet.” Frowning, she whipped back the duvet cover and felt around under the sheets. “Have you seen my underwear? Never mind. I don’t need them.”
I reached for her, but she dodged me.
“I’m not sleeping with my Thursday date either.”
“Yeah, okay.” She gave an unladylike snort and bent for her bag.
It gave me the opening I needed. I grabbed her around the waist, lifted her in the air, and tipped us both onto the mattress.
“If you don’t get off me right now, Lucifer, I’ll knee you in the balls. And while it would be a destructive blow to women everywhere, I will do what I have to do,” she said fiercely.
“You’re jealous,” I said again, thoroughly enjoying myself.
To be on the safe side, I rolled her and settled myself between her thighs before leaning down to kiss her mouth.
She softened instantaneously beneath me, but my victory was short lived when she bit my lower lip.
“Ow.”
“Serves you right. Now, give me my pants, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
That wasn’t an option. “I don’t have a date Thursday,” I told her.
She flailed under me, which didn’t help me forget about the raging hard-on I had nestled against her belly.
“I’m taking your mother out to dinner.”
Sloane settled immediately. Her eyes were suspicious behind her now-crooked glasses. “You do realize that I can easily confirm that story.”
I nuzzled my nose along her jawline and felt pride when goose bumps cropped up on her ivory skin. “We meet every week for coffee or a meal. I make sure she’s not falling apart and hiding it from you and your sister. She makes sure I’m not working myself to death. We usually split a dessert. But I’m not sleeping with her.”
She studied me for a long beat. “Okay. I believe you.”
“You do?”
“You get irritated when you’re hiding something. You just look annoyingly entertained right now.”
“I find your jealousy annoyingly entertaining,” I agreed.
“I’m not jealous,” she insisted.
“I am,” I said.
Her eyebrows shot up. “You? Why?”
“You’re still dating. Any day now, you’re going to meet Mr. Right, and then he’ll be the one who gets to do this.” I dipped my head and closed my lips over one pert nipple.
She arched under me, the added friction against my cock driving me wild.
I released her breast with an audible pop. “I don’t want to be your Mr. Right, but I might actually miss this warm, willing body of yours when it’s no longer at my disposal.”
Sloane shivered. “Then I guess you’d better take advantage of me now.”
I wasted no time rolling on a new condom and positioning myself between her legs.
Seeing her splayed out beneath me like a banquet to be enjoyed had me counting my lucky fucking stars. A few more fucks and a few more mind-blowing orgasms, and we’d finally be sated. But not yet.
I gritted my teeth and sheathed myself in her with one vicious thrust. Those green eyes slammed shut as every muscle in her body tensed around me, under me. Her body teased me by both welcoming me and trying to fight me.
I wanted to touch her everywhere. To memorize every inch of her. The full curves of her breasts and hips, the taut flesh of her belly. All that velvet-smooth skin that begged for my teeth.
“Tell me what you want,” I rasped, withdrawing just far enough to slam back in, forcing the final inch inside her.
Her feet moved restlessly against the sheets. “So good,” she rasped. “I hate that you’re so damn good at this.”