Sloan ate a lot neater than Conall. He took the napkin and wiped his hands and face more often, while Conall didn’t give a damn. He knew he probably had mayo on the sides of his lips, but as far as he was concerned, he could just clean up after he was finished. There were a lot of differences between him and Sloan, and he wonderedwhythey got along so well. There was the sex, of course, but there had to be something else. Sometimes it felt like they were in a tennis match when they had conversations, hitting the ball back into each other’s court constantly, hoping the other person would slip up and miss the ball completely. It rarely happened. Conall enjoyed it, though. He hated tennis but loved their banter—not that he’d admit it.
“Then I’ll need to work extra hard tonight to show you why my cock’s better, hm?”
Conall laughed. “Yeah, you do that, sir.”
“How’s your neck, pet? Do you need a break with the collar?” He touched the red leather gently, running the pads of his fingers over the edge. At one point, Conall had begun to get a rash on his neck from it, but Sloan had worked with the man who originally made the piece to make it softer on Conall’s skin.
“No, it’s fine.” The thought of removing his collar made his gut clench. Sloan had installed tracking devices in the leather, as well as a fingerprint scanner lock so no one but Sloan could undo it. The extra protection, as well as what having it on meant, made Conall feel safer. “Don’t touch it.”
Sloan’s eyes darkened, but it wasn’t in anger. Passion was probably a better word. The look made Conall shiver. “Very well. Let me know if you need a break.”
“I don’t. I’m fine.” Conall took another big bite of his fish sandwich and nearly choked when he didn’t chew it properly.
“Slow down, pet. It’s not going anywhere. If you’re still hungry, we can order a couple more. Even take them home.”
Conall nodded and did what he was told. He made sure to eat slower and more carefully. By the time he was done, Sloan had already made his way back to the van and ordered another two sandwiches. By the time he got back, Conall had reached over and stolen some of his uneaten salad.
Sloan cocked his head at Conall. “Did you eat some of mine?”
“I would never,” Conall teased.
“All you had to do was ask, pet.” He broke some of his sandwich off and held it to Conall’s lips. “Open up.”
Conall opened his mouth obediently, taking the piece of sandwich from Sloan’s fingers. Chewing, he smiled at Sloan. “Thank you.”
“I’ve told you before, what’s mine is yours. I wish you would trust me more.”
The seriousness on his face made Conall’s heart flutter in a way he wasn’t comfortable with. He shifted in his chair. Maybe he would trust Sloan more if he was honest. Conall knew he should have asked him why he’d started to keep Conall away from the meetings, but he didn’t have the courage. Even though he’d grown comfortable with Sloan, he was still a mob boss who could kill him with the slit of a knife across his throat. Conall had seen Sloan do the same to other men and not even blink twice.
Sloan frowned at him and Conall felt his chest constrict in fear. Had he said something out loud? But then Sloan sighed and offered him another piece of sandwich, which Conall happily took.
When they’d eaten Sloan’s sandwich, they packed away their extra sandwiches and decided to go for a walk on the beach. The weather wasn’t just hot, but humid also. The heat stuck to them like glue and Conall could feel the sweat gather in his armpits. It was better than the cold, but he wasn’t quite sure if he enjoyed this kind of heat, either.
“It’s not usually this humid in winter,” Sloan said, as they padded across the soft sand to the harder part of the beach, where the water had already touched with its reaching waves. The sound of the water swept through Conall like a breeze of peace as it crashed against the shore. Sloan didn’t crowd him, but he did hold his hand as they strolled past other beachgoers in their swimwear.
“Better than the cold.”
“Mm. Much better.” Sloan squeezed Conall’s hand.
“This is nice, though. No drug kingpins or Italian mobsters trying to kill us.” Conall threw him a wicked grin.
Sloan laughed, the rumble from his chest deep and real. “No, none of them. I like to think there are rules in the criminal world, pet. When a man’s on vacation, it’s improper to disrupt him.”
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Conall nudged him on the shoulder. “Pretty sure othercompaniesdon’t care that you’re on vacation.”
Sloan stopped, tugging on Conall’s hand. He stared at Conall, his blue eyes vibrant in the bright light of the sun. His blond hair glinted under the rays, and Conall had never seen him look more gorgeous, with his casual clothes and relaxed state. There weren’t any hard stress lines prominent on his handsome face, either. “You’re right, pet, they don’t care that I’m on vacation. At least, the newbies don’t. There was once a code in place, but times change. Kids join criminal organizations and ignore those codes of conduct. They try and destroy what we’ve built. It’s not what it used to be.”
Then he began walking again, dragging Conall with him.
They spent the afternoon at another van type kiosk, with freshly squeezed lemonade. After a while, the sun got too hot, though, and they went back to the car. Sloan drove the Ferrari this time.
“I need to buy you a Christmas present,” Conall declared when Sloan had steered the car back on the main strip of the beach.
“Pet, I have everything I want.” Sloan didn’t even look at him. The roads were busy enough that he couldn’t, though.
The distinct scent of the car’s leather tickled at Conall’s nose. It smelled so good, like the car was brand new. Knowing Sloan, he’d probably only driven it a few times since buying it. He had enough cars to choose from in New York alone, Conall couldn’t imagine what he had here. “Well, I don’t care. I want to find something for you, so can we stop at a shop on the way home?”
Sloan shot him a smirk. “Fine, pet, if that’s what you want. Where do you want to go?”
