Chapter 14 #2
Including toward Reese.
“Hey,” Reese said when Sloane stopped in front of her, her voice softer than she meant it to be.
Sloane smiled immediately, warm and familiar. She was happy to see Reese, and it showed. “Hey, yourself.”
They stood there for half a second longer than necessary, the sounds of the party rushing in around them.
“You look so good,” Reese said, then laughed quietly. “I had a better line planned, but it disappeared.”
Sloane’s eyes softened. “I like the honest one.”
She glanced Reese over, the attention sending a flutter through Reese’s midsection. “You clean up nicely, too. I almost didn’t recognize you without a helmet.”
“Devastating,” Reese said. “I’ll try harder next time.”
“No need. You’re gorgeous.”
They stared at each other as Reese did everything in her power not to let her eyes dip to that neckline she so wanted to drink in.
“Come walk with me?” Sloane asked, already turning.
Reese followed easily. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
“Well, tonight is your lucky night,” Sloane said, glancing back with a smile. Reese raised a brow at her choice of words, which won her a “stop that.”
“Whatever you say.”
They drifted toward the far side of the terrace. Lantern light caught in Sloane’s hair and glowed against the side of her face.
“You were good today,” Sloane said. “Not just fast. Smart. I really enjoyed watching you drive.”
Reese leaned her forearms against the cool stone. “High praise.”
“It’s sincere,” Sloane said, nudging her lightly with her shoulder. “You’re fun to watch. In a lot of ways.”
“Do tell.” That warmth settled low in Reese’s chest.
Before Sloane could respond, someone called her name. A sponsor. Sloane sighed quietly and touched Reese’s wrist. That touch was everything. So simple in nature, but intimate enough that she never wanted it to end.
Reese smiled. “Do you have to go? It’s nice out here. Just us.” The moments when it was just the two of them were turning into Reese’s absolute favorite of each week. She craved more them time and was becoming increasingly aware of it.
Blue eyes met hers. “I wish I didn’t. Maybe I’ll run into you later.”
“I really hope so.” Sloane turned to go, and Reese’s eyes fell to the smooth skin of her shoulder. “Sloane.”
“Yes?” she asked, turning back. The breeze lifted the loose strands of hair around her face.
“Just … enjoy your evening.”
The night fractured after that.
Reese talked. She networked. She answered questions.
Laughed with her friends about why Delaney was so uniquely superstitious when it came to race days, right down to the brand of socks she wore.
Time slid sideways, measured in moments instead of minutes.
Sloane, from across the courtyard, lifting her glass at Reese; Sloane sending her a glance before turning back to her conversation with Veronica; Sloane leaning in close to murmur something dry that made Reese laugh before being pulled away again.
It was a jumble of very concise moments that added up to a night that had Reese pressed to her limit with pent-up desire.
The ice-blue dress was doing things to her that she couldn’t name in public.
She wanted her lips on Sloane’s shoulders and her hand beneath that hem.
She wanted it so badly she ached. Instead, she took a deep breath.
When the reception began to wind down, and Sloane brushed past Reese on her way out, her fingers ghosted Reese’s hand, barely there, but unmistakable.
Reese closed her eyes for half a second, savoring the tiny shred of contact.
Sleep was not happening tonight.
The elevator doors slid shut behind Sloane back at the hotel. She exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she stepped into the quiet hallway, grateful for the silence after a night of laughing politely at everyone’s jokes and pretending she hadn’t spent every second acutely aware of Reese’s eyes on her.
She reached her door, digging through her bag for the key card. When she looked up, she stopped cold.
Reese leaned against the wall a few doors down, barefoot, her heels dangling from the loose curl of her fingers.
Well. That was certainly a sight she’d never forget. She blinked again to be sure she wasn’t a mirage.
“Not your floor,” Sloane said, heart thudding. She knew exactly what was happening, and just as clearly, that there was nothing she could do to stop it. They were an avalanche already breaking loose, too much momentum to undo now.
“No,” Reese said, pushing off the wall.
“And you lost your shoes.”
“Confession. I wear them because they look good, but I’ve never actually been a heels kind of girl.”
Sloane’s gaze dropped despite herself—long legs, painted toes, the faint sway that came from hours of smiling and a little too much champagne. “Trust me. No one would ever know.”
Reese’s smile softened. “Except you.” She took a step closer. Then another. Each one thickened the air between them. “And I have a feeling my secret’s safe.”
“What brings you by?” Sloane asked. The voice that came out barely sounded like hers.
“I figured we got pretty good at the circling-each-other thing tonight.” Reese stopped just inside Sloane’s space. “Thought maybe we could try something else.”
She didn’t give Sloane time to answer.
Before the last word fully left her mouth, Reese leaned in and kissed her, sure and warm, with the kind of confidence that made it clear she’d been thinking about this all night.
All season. Her free hand settled at Sloane’s waist, steadying them both as their mouths met, the impact immediate and disorienting.
The heels bumped softly against Sloane’s thigh, grounding her just enough to notice how the hallway tilted, how everything narrowed to the press of Reese’s lips and the heat gathering low in her belly.
Too good. The kiss was too good for Sloane to process all at once. It bypassed thought entirely, lighting her up before she had the chance to resist. She’d been fighting this—them—for far too long, and her body seemed relieved to finally stop pretending otherwise.
“Inside?” Reese murmured against her mouth.
Sloane nodded, fumbling the key card from her bag. Reese took it from her, opened the door in one smooth motion, and then they were inside. Reese’s arms were already around her, walking her backward, kissing her without breaking rhythm.
Holy hell. Her brain couldn’t catch up with her body. They were a hurricane, colliding in a rush of urgency and want.
“What are you doing to me?” Reese breathed, just before her mouth found Sloane’s neck.
Sloane’s head tipped back on instinct. Her fingers slid into Reese’s thick hair—hair she’d imagined gripping for weeks—and the sensation sent a desperate, needy pulse through her. Her center throbbed, almost painfully so.
She slid her hands to Reese’s hips and stopped them both, not to pull away, but to anchor the moment. Reese stilled immediately, breath warm against Sloane’s skin, waiting. That alone did something intense to her.
Sloane leaned in and kissed her, slower this time, deeper, letting herself feel it fully.
Reese made a quiet sound of approval and melted into her, but Sloane kept the pace, kept control.
It felt good. She threaded one hand into Reese’s hair and tugged just enough to make the point, just enough to make Reese’s breath hitch.
There. That reaction. That was hers.
She walked Reese back a step, then another, until Reese’s shoulders brushed the door. Sloane pressed closer, letting Reese feel exactly how affected she was, how little distance remained between intention and action.
“Tonight was torturous,” Sloane murmured against her mouth. “You and those bare shoulders.”
Reese smiled, slow and wicked. “I was hoping you’d do something about it.”
Oh, Sloane wanted to.
She kissed her again, open-mouthed and sure, hands roaming now with purpose, along Reese’s arms, her waist, memorizing heat and shape and the way Reese leaned into every touch like she’d been waiting for permission she no longer needed.
Reese’s heels slipped from her fingers and hit the carpet with a soft thud, forgotten.
The sound made them both laugh, quiet and breathless, until Sloane was kissing her again, harder this time, her tongue in Reese’s mouth, momentum surging back into place. Desire gathered low and intense in her body, tossing away her every inhibition.
Yes. This was still a hurricane. But now Sloane was standing in the center of it, choosing not to step aside.
Reese’s hands were at Sloane’s waist when they stilled, the room settling into a taut, expectant quiet.
Her fingers slid along the seam of Sloane’s dress, slow enough that Sloane felt every inch of it. The zipper moved with a soft, unmistakable sound.
Sloane sucked in a breath.
Reese didn’t look down. She watched Sloane’s face instead, tracking the reaction, the flicker of something unguarded crossed Reese’s features before control snapped back into place.
“Still okay?” Reese asked, low and steady.
Sloane nodded once. Then she reached back and finished unzipping the dress herself, the motion decisive. The fabric loosened, cool air brushing skin that had been held too tight all evening.
Reese’s jaw tightened, no longer playful. Focused. Hungry. Her gaze locked on Sloane’s breasts as they were revealed, bare under the low hotel light.
“Fuck,” Reese breathed, the word rough and low. “Look at you.”
Sloane stepped closer, closing the last breath of space between them, letting Reese feel the heat radiating off her skin. She tilted her head, voice soft but coated with challenge. “What do you want to do?”