Satisfaction Guaranteed(46)

“Now this does feel like a lesson,” she says, deadpan. “A science lesson.”

I laugh and tickle her sides. “You asked, woman.”

“Stop, stop,” she cries out.

I relent, and she sighs happily then lifts her eyebrows and makes a rumbling sound, imitating a very content pussycat.

“Fine,” I say. “The female of the genus Vixenus Sloane can also purr.” I flip her to her back and kiss her stomach. “But only when fucked properly by the one man who knows how to turn her into a complete pussycat.”

Her purr grows louder. “You do make me purr.”

“That’s the goal, woman. That’s always the goal.”

She straightens, raising herself higher, meeting my eyes intently. She swallows, as if she’s prepping to say something hard. “Maybe that’s the magic touch. Maybe you’re the magic.”

That warm glow? It winds through me, touching down in every corner, filling me with something bigger, something stronger, more intense.

Perhaps it’s the orgasm affecting my brain.

Maybe great sex can loosen lips.

Though there’s so much more going on between us than great sex. And part of me—a big part of me—doesn’t want to play the parallel universe game any longer.

Whether she wants romance or not, I need to say this. Let it out for the sake of my own heart, which has grown two sizes too big with her.

I kiss her gently and speak the full and terrifying truth. “No. We’re the magic. Together.”

Her eyes lock with mine, her brown gaze big and vulnerable. I wait, wondering, hoping she feels that way. “I believe that, Malone.”

That’s my greatest wish and my greatest worry. That we are too right for each other. Too good together. I feel too much. I want too much. I need her too much.

And what do I do with all these emotions?

How can we possibly find a way through?

Unless . . .

What if I’ve been wrong about not being able to have her? What if there’s a way to navigate around the roadblocks, to jump over the hurdles?

What if we can figure it all out?

I don’t know that route to a relationship like I do the one to her pleasure. But I want to find it. I have to find it.

She snuggles against me, yawning, and starts to drift off in my arms. First, though, she asks in a sleepy, sexy voice, “When are you going to make love to me?”

I close my eyes, squeezing them shut, knowing that’s what it will be. And I whisper against her neck, “The next time we’re together.”

The trouble is, I don’t know how I’ll ever come back from that.

Or if I want to. I want to move forward and I need to find a way to do that because I don’t want to give her up a second time.





37





It’s a pancakes kind of morning.

“When I ran into you the other week, you offered me pancakes, and now I’m taking you up on it,” Sloane declares when we get out of the shower.

“It’s about time.”

“But I’m going to need a sweatshirt or something, so I don’t look like I’m doing a total walk of shame.”

My eyes take a quick tour of her body, enjoying the post-shower look. “Maybe next time, you should bring a change of clothes. More than just panties,” I tell her as she grabs a pair of white undies from her purse and tugs them on, then slips on her dress.

Her eyes light up as if she likes the idea. “Maybe next time I will.”

Next time, next time, next time.

All I want are more times with her.

She pulls on a gray sweatshirt from my alma mater, and we head to the diner around the corner, where I spot my buddy Herb and his fiancée, Olivia.

She waves to me from their booth and he holds up a hand to say hi.

“We just ordered. Want to join us”?” Olivia asks.

Sloane shrugs happily. “Sounds good.” She extends a hand, and I quickly make introductions.

“Herb’s a vet too. He’s the king of the Upper East Side.”

Herb squares his shoulders. “That is true. I had a new sign made up for my practice that says just that.”

Olivia turns to Sloane. “How is your rescue doing? I saw the video of Malone singing to the cat and followed it to your page. Looks like you’re doing great things.”

Sloane flashes a smile. “We are. At least I think so. We’ve adopted out fourteen animals in the last two weeks, and my foster network is expanding. Having a reliable office space to run it makes a big difference. I was using a spot in Brooklyn, but the rent went up, so I feel lucky to have a place at all, and being able to easily manage all the animal care is huge. Well, thanks to Malone.”

“And your dad,” I add.

She chuckles. “Yes, but let’s be honest. You’re doing most of the work.”

“True . . .” I admit. Doug’s around a bit more, but the bulk of the work still falls to me.

Olivia jumps in, gesturing to Sloane. “By the way, Malone’s sweatshirt looks nice on you.”

I roll my eyes, ready to defend her attire.

Sloane plucks at the gray fabric. “This thing? Yeah. It might as well say walk of shame.”

Olivia holds up a hand to high-five. “Own it, girl.”