Preston scraped a hand over his face.
He didn’t know how to get close with someone. Didn’t know how to let down his guard and be real with another person. Mostly because he was always afraid his real self would terrify anyone who saw him for what he truly was.
But with Sloane…
She knew about his father. She knew about his past and maybe, just maybe, she could accept all of him. After all, she’d kissed him in the darkness. She’d tried to save him.
Too bad he was far past the point of actually being saved.
The bathroom door opened. Steam drifted in the air, and there stood Sloane. With a white towel wrapped around her body. One towel around her body. One towel curled around her hair. She stared at him and quirked one eyebrow. “You need something?”
You. On the bed. Minus the towels. Legs spread. Screaming my name as you come against my mouth again.
But they were a long way from that moment. “I was…” Preston cleared his throat. “Checking on you.”
“Um.”
“And dropping off clothes.” He had been doing that. With a vague wave of his hand, he indicated the shopping bags. “Joshua delivered everything you needed.”
“Any update on my actual belongings?” She remained in the doorway.
She had killer legs. Long and sexy and…
Was that a scar sliding along her left ankle and dipping up her calf? His stare sharpened. He hadn’t noticed it before. Then again, he hadn’t been focused on her ankle.
“It’s from a knife,” Sloane told him, obviously catching the direction of his gaze.
Preston surged toward her. “Who the hell—” He stopped. Because he knew. The killer ex-boyfriend.
“I ran from Cody the morning I found my parents. He was still in the house. Still in their bedroom. Waiting for me to find them. He thought I’d be…happy. That we’d celebrate together. I made a mistake with him, you see.” Her lips pressed together. “Actually, I can’t have this conversation while I’m wearing a towel and you’re fully dressed. It makes me feel far too vulnerable. I don’t like being vulnerable. One of my least favorite things.”
He nodded. “I’ll strip.”
“What? No, I—” Her cheeks were pink. From the shower? “I’ll put on clothes. Then come meet you downstairs.”
“That’s probably a better idea. If I get naked and you’re naked, who knows what might happen?” He was trying to tease, something he did not do well. The words were rusty, he was rusty, and he was still staring at her scar.
That bastard took a knife to her skin.
“I think we’d fuck,” she returned bluntly. “That’s probably what would happen. I don’t know if either of us is really ready for that. Or prepared for what will happen after.”
He dragged his gaze up. Met her stare. “After?” I think we’d fuck. He was all in for that. “What would happen after?” His voice had gone guttural.
“After? Well, then you’d realize that you can’t live without me. You’d get addicted to me and want me in your life forever.” Light words. Teasing. She was trying to ease the heavy mood between them, too.
But, clearly, she was far better at teasing than he was. Because his voice seemed to rumble like a bear’s growl when he replied, “Or you get addicted to me.”
Her eyes widened. “That could be a possibility. You did already give me the best orgasm of my life.”
He turned on his heel and immediately strode for the door.
“Preston?”
“Meet you downstairs.” He had to get out of that room. Because when she made confessions like that one…when she was just wearing a towel and standing steps away from his bed…
Definitely makes me want to fuck you, Sloane.
Though just being near her made him want to fuck her.
