Possession (The Plus One Chronicles) (17 page)

That threw her over the cliff. But Kat forced her eyes open, clinging to his hands as her body convulsed around him.

Sloane dropped his face to hers. “You’re mine.” He slammed into her, his body heaving as his orgasm consumed him.

* * *

Sloane felt her shaking. Deep tremors. He wasn’t surprised. Kat had let go of a profound fear tonight. Trusted him.

And damned if that didn’t rip a goddamned hole in his chest. The woman had touched him where no one else ever had. Her bravery and trust humbled him like nothing else. After pulling from her, he lifted her so he could toss back the covers and laid her against the sheet. Sloane snatched his shirt from the end of the bed, first cleaning the remaining tears from her face, then gently cleaning between her thighs.

Flinging the shirt, he got in and gathered her in his arms. He tucked a pillow between her knees to give her bad leg extra support. “I’ve got you. Sleep.”

“Why was it so intense?”

Sloane was dog-tired. Jet lag, travel, Drake, and then Kat blowing his mind. But her question deserved an answer. “Breaking barriers, sweetheart. You released some fears to let me in.” He stroked her hair. “I let you in too. We both felt it.”

“We’re in too deep.”

No shit.
But Kat had trusted him right down to her tears. His little fighter had a secret weapon—honest tears that tore through every defense he had to get a chokehold on his heart. “Maybe, but we’re in it together. And right now, that’s what matters.” Way too much. Kat mattered too much.

This was never supposed to happen.

Chapter Twelve

Kat’s leg was stiff and achy, forcing her to hold on to the railing as she eased down the stairs in the early morning darkness. It wasn’t even four a.m. yet, and Sloane hadn’t stirred when she slipped out of bed, or when she set the note on his nightstand. She had almost woken him to say goodbye, but he was wiped out, probably from jet lag. And last night.

Warmth traveled over her skin with that thought. They hadn’t just had sex. Both of them let down barriers that made it so much more. Deeper. Scary.

She reached the bottom floor and quietly left the house. Once in her car, she glanced at her empty cup holder in the center console. She really wanted coffee, should have taken two minutes to make a cup to take with her.

At the bottom of the driveway, she glanced at her clock. Three fifty-seven. Damn, she didn’t know of a Starbucks that opened that early.

Tough luck, she’d be at work soon and could—

Blindingly bright pops of light exploded, searing her corneas. Kat slammed on the brakes so hard the seat belt locked. Throwing up her arms, she shielded her eyes.

What happened?

Thump. Thump.
She whipped her head around. Oh God, a man at her window.

Another flash.

Yelping, she squeezed her eyes shut. Stars burst beneath her eyelids. Heart pounding, pulse jacking, she couldn’t get air. Terror gripped her chest.

Don’t panic.
Drive.

Squinting to filter the flashes, she grabbed the steering wheel. A van was parked on the side of the road.
Reporters
.

Thump. Thump.

She cringed away from the man pounding on her window. Trapped. Fear hammered her mercilessly.

Just drive. Do it.

The door flew open.

A scream worked in her chest.

“Kat, it’s me.”

His voice cut through her terror. Sloane, wearing sweat pants and an air of menace. He leaned in, shoved the car in park, undid her seat belt and lifted her into his arms. Instinctively, she clung to him.

Ethan, wearing gym shorts and the same mussed and pissed expression, slid into her car.

Sloane stalked through the gates as flashes went off.

She struggled to get her bearings. “What—?”

“Quiet.”

The morning was cool and damp, but Sloane’s skin radiated heat. A muscle ticked in his jaw. The headlights of Kat’s car flooded them as Ethan pulled it inside the property line. She could hear the gears closing the gate. Sloane’s driveway was long, probably a half mile. “I can walk.”

Ignoring her, he kept going, his bare feet nearly soundless on the cement.

Now that she’d calmed down, she knew what had happened. The media had been waiting and caught her by surprise. The smart thing would have been to keep driving. But the flashes had disoriented her. She probably didn’t want to know what Sloane had done to the cameraman who had been banging on her window. He’d been there, then suddenly gone.

Sloane strode through the front door that was hanging open and kept going until he reached the family room. Setting her in the recliner Drake had used the night before, Sloane braced his hands on the arms and leaned over her. “Are you okay?”

“You’re mad.” It was such a ridiculous comment, she wanted to smack herself.

“You tripped the silent alarm when you opened the front door. It alerted my cellphone and bedroom monitors as well as Ethan in the guesthouse. Jesus, Kat, when you weren’t beside me…” He shoved off the chair and stormed into the kitchen. His back rippled powerfully. “I didn’t know who the fuck got into my house. If someone had you…”

She’d forgotten the alarm. Stupid of her. Jumping up, she went to him and put her hand on his back. “I didn’t think, I’m sorry. You were zonked, and I had to get to work.” She still needed to, but after Sloane calmed down.

He spun and yanked her tight against his chest. “I’m not mad at you. I just… Fuck, it scared me, Kat. Then I got out there and saw your face, so damned pale. I just had to get you away from them.”

His admission made her heart swell with tenderness. Holding him, she whispered, “I’m okay, I’m safe.” He cared. Protected her. Could a person’s heart burst with too much feeling?

He tunneled his hand beneath her shirt, spreading his fingers possessively over her bare skin. “I’ll take you home, you can get cleaned up and I’ll take you to work. Ethan can pick me up there.”

But Kat couldn’t let him do that. “No.” She looked up into his face. “You’re exhausted, you’ve been traveling all week. That’s why I didn’t wake you. Now that I’m prepared, I can handle it.”

He brought his hand up to cradle her face. “It might be a little more complicated than that. We gave them a show. In addition to the photographer, there was a videographer. If that footage hits the news, shit.” His fingers dug into her back.

Worry stiffened her spine. “What are you not telling me?”

“The media has been dogging me, trying to get me to talk about Foster.”

“And get your mother to talk.” She remembered that.

A vein in his temple throbbed. “I pay her to keep quiet.”

“Sloane, just spill it. I don’t like secrets.” David’s secret had nearly killed her.

“I’m the reason Foster went to prison.”

Unease gripped her muscles. “Are you going to tell me?” Or keep her in the dark?

“When I found Sara, Foster had been hiding in the house and tried to sneak out. I caught him. I would have killed him, but Drake got there and stopped me.” He paused, refocusing on her. “I testified against him. He made some threats.”

It sank in slowly. Threats. Sloane never having a girlfriend or wife, the times he’d said it’d be better for her if he let her go…it all lined up in a pattern of protection. “You think he might come after me?” Or any woman Sloane cared about.

The amber flecks in his eyes turned to ice. “It’s been over thirteen years, but I’m not taking chances. Not with you.” He softened and cupped her face. “I never meant to do this. I made it known that I only did the plus-one thing. No women stayed the night in my home. If we did spend a night together, it was in a hotel or resort. It was just sex. Nothing more.”

Until her. Sloane had lived as an island, refusing to endanger a woman. In that second, nothing else mattered to her but the possessive feel of his hand on her back, and the way he looked at her as if she was something precious and special.

No one had ever made her feel that. With David, she’d felt—grateful. Like maybe if he loved her, then her parents would consider her good enough.

But Sloane’s gaze on her now? It invoked hot power and shattering vulnerability. Her heart climbed into her throat. “We’re not just sex.”

“Last night when you walked into the house, I’ve never felt that. Ever.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding in the long column of his throat.

“What?”

The colors in his eyes warmed and blended into caramel. “Like as long as I could see you, touch you, then we can close the door and shut out all the other shit. Just be okay together.”

“You have the power to break my heart.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. It scared her to her soul to feel this way. She’d been wrong once before.

He dropped his forehead to hers. “I’ll let you go if that’s what you want.”

Did she? End it now while she might be able to recover? Or did she go for it and live, feel, experience and then pay the price when it was over? The image of Sloane last night seared her. The way he’d taken her hands, joining their fingers and their bodies, that hadn’t been sex. They’d been making love, and when her emotions poured out of her in tears, he’d kissed her and told her to hold on to him. He’d kept her heart safe as he made love to her. That was more powerful than words.

Putting her hand on his chest, she felt the steady beat of his heart. “Don’t let me go.”

* * *

After work on Sunday, Kat parked her car in front of Sloane’s house. Already late for the barbeque, she got out and went into the house.

Voices drew her attention to the deck. Sloane wore a pair of black board-shorts and flipped burgers while teenaged boys lounged around him.

“Oh, Kat, there you are.” Sherry walked into the house, wearing a tiny black bikini. “We’re about ready to eat. Get your suit on and join us. Want a beer?”

“I didn’t bring a suit.” Sherry looking so fresh only emphasized Kat’s tired and grimy state. She’d worked since four thirty and hadn’t had time to go home to clean up and change.

“Sloane has a selection of suits for you. Go see, they’re in his room.”

“What? When would he have had time to go shopping? Or know my size?” And why? Kat didn’t want him buying her stuff.

The other woman laughed. “Sloane doesn’t go shopping. He has people falling all over themselves bringing him selections of whatever the hell he wants. There’s like two racks of swimsuits and cover-ups waiting for you to choose what you want. I know because I went to look and snagged this bikini. It wouldn’t fit you. I’m bigger in the bust than you.”

She let that comment go because it was sadly true. “He had a personal shopper bring swimsuits?” Who did that?

“And cover-ups, sundresses, hats and shoes.”

For her. But she didn’t wear swimsuits, not since she’d terrified a little girl with her scars not long after her first surgery.

“Kat? Weren’t you bringing dessert?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Left it in the car. I had two deliveries on my way here. I’ll go get it.” She turned, escaping through the door she’d just come through.

The sultry air was cut with a cooler sea breeze. After opening the car door, she started to lean in to grab the two boxes off the backseat when warm hands caught her hips and tugged her back.

Sloane. She recognized his touch and let him wrap his arms around her. He smelled of warm sun, briny ocean and the richer scent that was all Sloane.

Leaning against his warm chest, she looked up into his face, but his eyes were covered in shades. “You bought two racks of clothes?”

“Nope. I only pay for what we keep. And Marla, my personal shopper’s services.” He ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “You need a few suits to keep here. And a couple more for your house if you want. Pick what you like.”

“I don’t wear swimsuits.”

“Your choice when we’re around other people. There’s some long sundresses that will cover your leg if you’d be more comfortable. They’ll be cooler.” He kissed her hair and added, “But pick out a couple suits for when it’s just us and we go in the hot tub.”