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She was it, and she was going to be mine.
I pulled back and watched her eyes flutter open. Her green eyes were filled with desire, and her cheeks were flushed.
“Meet me in the lobby tomorrow morning, Sloane,” I whispered.
She nodded and dreamily looked up at me. “I’ll be there.”
I stepped back, and Sloane’s door slowly opened. “I promise I wasn’t listening,” Dove called.
Sloane rolled her eyes and pushed off the wall. “Then how did you know to open the door?” Sloane countered.
“Because I didn’t hear anything, and I was worried he was kidnapping you?” It sounded like Dove didn’t even believe that lie. “Maybe?”
I chuckled and shook my head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Sloane nodded and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Goodnight, Aero.” She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.
“Goodnight, Aero,” Dove called. The click of the deadbolt latched, and she cleared her throat. “Go to your room so Sloane and I can talk about you. I can see you.”
I shook my head and held up my hands. “Goodnight, Dove.”
Again, I couldn’t blame Dove for being protective.
I was glad Sloane had that, but Dove wasn’t going to keep me from Sloane.
Nothing was going to keep me from her.
Nothing.
*
Chapter Seven
Sloane
“Stop it.”
I stared at myself in the mirror and cocked my head to the side.
“Stop what?” I called.
Dove stomped to the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe. “Stop trying to talk yourself out of meeting Aero downstairs.”
“I’m not doing that,” I muttered. I was actually trying to figure out if I could make it downstairs but then get to my car so I could take off without Aero seeing me.
I was a damn wreck.
“The car keys are hidden, Sloane. The only thing you are doing today is going on a date with Aero.”
“It’s not a date,” I insisted.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, a man pinning you against the wall, kissing you, and then asking you to meet him in the lobby is not a date at all. I don’t even know how I even came to that conclusion.” She grabbed a hair tie off the counter and whipped her hair into a bun on top of her head. “What would happen in your books?” she asked.
“What?”
“Girl,” Dove grumbled. “You’re making me roll my eyes way too much before noon. What would the chick in one of your books do in this situation?”
I stared at Dove in the mirror. “I’m trying not to be like my books because as soon as I woke up this morning, I realized that this was not a dream or a book but my life.”
