Page 15 of Sloane

I led him into my room, all the while discreetly trying to gauge if his six-foot-plus frame would even fit in my bed. He seemed to fill up the whole space with his presence, I could only imagine what he’d do to my queen-size bed.

I found myself grateful to the mattress saleswoman who’d suggested someday I might want a bigger bed when I’d tried explaining I was single and didn’t need anything more than full-size.

“You’re not planning on being single forever, right?” the polished woman had asked with a wink.

At the time, I’d been upset with myself for caving in to the upsell, now I wanted to go back and thank her.

Not that I was planning on Sloane being in my bed.

Okay, now that the obligatory good-girl declaration had been made, I could convince myself that “it just happened” if—hopefully when—it did.

Not wanting to get caught checking him out, I quickly looked away when he turned around to face me.

“You did a great job, Ash.”

“Thanks.”

He stood staring at me with a small smile. Not knowing what that smile meant made me wring my hands in front of me.

“Um, you can change in here. Let me just put something else on really quick.”

I ducked into my large walk-in closet—one of the deciding factors when I’d chosen the apartment. That, and the in-unit washer and dryer.

I was going to change into something warmer for when the November sun set in a few hours. Slipping out of my dress, I pulled on a pair of yoga pants, then layered a t-shirt and sweatshirt over my head before grabbing a pair of socks from the little bin of baskets I kept in the closet for my bras, underwear, and socks. I picked up my tennis shoes and hurried out, not wanting to keep Sloane from changing.

My shoes dropped to the floor with a thud when I found him shirtless with his pants open and hanging off his hips to showcase those V-lines that had been known to make girls do stupid things. I couldn’t help but stare—gawk was probably a more accurate descriptor—at the ripples along his stomach. He had a tribal tattoo of a dragon on his right shoulder, and the Marine eagle, globe, and anchor tattooed on his left biceps, with the words, “Semper Fidelis” written underneath. The smattering of chest hair only served to remind me he was all-man.

Finally, I squeaked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were getting naked.” I closed my eyes before quickly correcting myself. “Changing. I didn’t realize you were changing.”

“I thought you told me to change in here.”

He didn’t seem bothered at my presence and simply grinned at me as he finished pulling his pants off, leaving him in only his grey boxer briefs that did nothing to disguise the outline of his cock.

And it was a very nice cock.

“I did, I just, um, thought you were going to wait until I grabbed my cock from the closet.” My eyes went wide. “My clothes! Oh my god, my clothes from the closet!”

He pressed his lips together as if to suppress a smirk and put one leg into a pair of Levi’s.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long. That explains it.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Can the floor just open up now and swallow me?”

I felt his presence before he tugged my hands from my face and drew me into a warm embrace. His bare chest vibrated against my cheek with his chuckle.

“I would hate it if that happened.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” I whispered as the scent of him filled my senses.

“It was a Freudian slip, sweetheart. I should have waited to change. I’m sorry. I thought I could be quick.”

It was like my fingers had a mind of their own as they skimmed down his muscular back.

“Please don’t apologize. I mean, have you looked in a mirror lately? It’s not like I’m offended.”

The humor was evident in his tone when he retorted, “Just a little flustered?”

“You could say that.”

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