Page 76 of Logan
I nod.
“Then can’t you just give yourself a day off now and then? Add an extra day to one of your business trips to explore?”
“I—”
“You get vacation days, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course, but I don’t use them.”
“Why not?” Her brow furrows.
“Because I can’t just be absent from work on a whim,” I huff, looking away.
Sloane purses her lips. “What would happen?”
“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
She grins. “You know, if you lie, the game won’t work.”
I avert my gaze, feeling stripped bare under her penetrating stare. As if she can unearth all my secrets and issues with one more probing look. She must be a mind reader.
“I don’t want to disappoint my family,” I blurt out, the words tasting foreign. I’ve never said it aloud to anyone before—this deep-seated fear that they’ll realize I’m not worth the effort and reject me.
She’s silent for a second. “Why would they be disappointed in you?”
I shrug.
After a long pause, she says, “Your turn now.”
“What?” I jerk my head up, trying to shake off the heavy thoughts weighing on me.
“Your turn to ask a question.”
Right. I nod, wracking my brain for something to lighten the somber mood. “What turns you on?” I ask.
“You.” She says it instantly, without missing a beat.
My cock twitches in my pants.
“Favorite part of a woman’s body?” Sloane asks, popping the last bite of her crêpe into her mouth.
I smirk. “Tits. Easy.” And damn, Sloane has the most perfect breasts I’ve ever laid eyes on.
She slides her fingers into her mouth, sucking the tips clean while holding my gaze. I can barely think straight. Shifting on the bench, I look away before I get visibly hard and have to walk around with a tent in my trousers.
When we finish eating, Sloane takes my hand and starts dragging me back inside the market.
“Wrong direction,” I grumble, digging in my heels and nodding toward the exit.
“We just got here.” Her face falls. “I wanted to check out the shops. Unless you have a meeting to get to?”
I shake my head. “No, no meeting.”
The smile returns to her face, radiant as the sun. “So, you’ll browse the market with me?”
I don’t know why I agree to this scheme, but I nod.
Sloane checks out every boutique we pass, finally stopping in front of a small, deep purple handbag.
