Page 66 of The Spare
“Right.” His eyes moved between the two of us. “I’ll ask Ms. Astor.”
“Good. Pen is running point,” she said, not breaking our gaze.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sutton, the elder." Jay gestured, tipping a nonexistent hat, eliciting a little giggle from Sloan when she flicked her eyes in his direction. “Let’s get drinks again, love,” he called as he walked down the hall.
The furious rumble became deafening. She drove me crazy, and I didn’t care. I wanted to be the one who made her laugh, who felt the warmth of her smile.
Before I could say anything, she walked to the door, shut it, and turned the lock. My hopes soared. She could kiss me or kill me; at that point I was fine with either scenario.
She turned back to face me. “He’s a client, the Burton Merger.”
“Why did he call you—”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s British. They calleveryonethat.”
“Drinks,again?”
Her eyes darting to the ground cut deeper than any blade could. “We went out for drinks, as friends. I went home alone and sober. Nothing happened.”
“This isn’t a game, Sloan.”
“I know,” she spat, tension lining her lithe frame. “You were the one who—”
“If you want it to be,” I said, closing the space between us, “fine. Game on.” My eyes searched hers. “I’ll chase you. Around the fucking world if you want.” Every drop of indignation that bathed her body evaporated. Her shoulders relaxed. “I’ll play by whatever rules you set.” My hands landed on her waist and pushed her softly against the solid mahogany door. “For as long as it takes.”
Scarlet stained her cheeks, and her breath shallowed. She laid her hands on my chest. “Marcus,” she breathed.
“When I catch you, and Iwillcatch you,” I whispered. My forehead dropped against hers. “I’m never letting you go."
Before she could deliver the defiant retort I knew was coming, I kissed her.
CHAPTER34
Sloan
Relief shuddered down Marcus’s body when I kissed him back. He kissed me like he was pouring every ounce of restrained emotion into me. It was nothing like the kiss we shared before. This one was filled with a deep and slow passion, one that would wait a lifetime if it had to.
He held my head between his hands. His fingers played with my hair, and his scent filled my lungs. Musk and spice. I couldn’t tell whether a minute or an hour passed when we parted; hell, I was barely able to stand. My entire body trembled blissfully. My chest seized with emotion when we parted, and I could see the storm in his eyes had finally quieted.
“The Old Baxter Sessions excerpts?”
His nose nuzzled into my neck. “How did you know?”
“Same book dealer. You’re off your game.”
“You seem to be the exception.” He pulled back, and his eyes searched mine. I didn’t know what the power I had over him was, but it was probably the same one he had over me. “I thought you’d like them. And I knew you wouldn’t question your parents about it.”
He knew me. Like a book he’d memorized in secret over the years.
“You were going to let me think you sent me those stupid cookies for my birthday?” I remembered the excitement that ran through me on my birthday when something was delivered from him. Then, the crushing disappointment when it was an offensively generic gift.
“You have a sweet tooth,” he reminded me.
Ever calculating, he knew he couldn't be the one to give me such a meaningful gift. It would have raised flags.
“I liked the Baxter sessions more.”
“I knew you would.”
