21. Sloane
21
SLOANE
W hat the hell is Edmund doing here?
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Leaning forward, my hands plant on the dashboard as I try to see him more clearly through the windshield. “That’s Edmund! What the hell is he doing here?”
Sterling puts a calming hand on my arm, bringing me back to the car and not the swirling curiosities and accusations. Edmund is in on this?
"Sit back. Don’t make yourself a target." He grounds me.
I settle back into the seat, scooting closer to Sterling to get a better view.
Edmund shakes the hand of the guy we’ve been watching, handing over an envelope of documents. I can’t believe it. What is he doing? And why?
The gentle momma’s boy I work with every day is leaking data? What kind? It’s not like we’re in the midst of anything covert or classified. Except for maybe shipping routes and destinations.
God almighty, Edmund. What the fuck?
Is that something behind him? I tip closer.
Sterling clears his throat, and I realize my hand is gripping his knee. I’m practically in his lap. Tension zaps me as we look at each other.
“Sorry. I just…” He holds up a camera with a long lens, and I retreat so that he can take some pictures.
Edmund pulls up a small crate, one that comes up to his knees.
“Zoom in on that.” I’m tipped against him as he snaps the shutter and brings up the shot. My heart sinks. I recognize that crate. My heart thuds too hard.
How dare he? That underhanded rat.
“That crate—it’s from my inventory logs. It was supposed to be marked for disposal. Why is it here?" Anger and betrayal simmer in my gut as I watch Edmund hand it over.
“You’re sure it’s the same one?”
“Positive,” I whisper. “I logged it myself.”
I lean back in the seat, my shoulder touching Sterling’s, hands wringing together. I wish I could march out there and ask him what he thinks he’s doing, how he thinks he’ll get away with it. Why is he putting his family at risk like this?
Sterling’s hands cover mine, gently pulling them apart. “You’re going to break your own fingers at this rate. Relax. We’ll figure it out.”
The exchange is over in about a minute, and Edmund flees. I perk up, ready to hop out and chase after him or buckle in for a pursuit. “Are we going to follow him?”
“No. No, I don’t think we should. We know where to find him. Let’s see what happens.”
Forcing myself to settle, to relax, to not fidget so much, I realize I’m still pressed against Sterling. He hasn’t said anything or made a move to push me off. I should probably go back to my side of the car, but he’s warm, and my decision to wear shorts probably wasn’t the best idea.
I just wanted to be comfortable. You hear stakeout, and you don’t think restrictive clothing, like the stuff I wear to work to look presentable. Instead, I threw on my comfort clothes—the oversized sweatshirt I got my first year at university and the stretched out basketball shorts I wore during my pregnancy.
My wardrobe decision certainly didn’t provide me with any sex appeal, although why I’m thinking about that…
Well, it’s the same reason I’m still cuddled up against Sterling. Isn’t it?
His hand comes down on mine again, stopping my fidgeting. No need to say anything about it, but his touch remains, and it’s suddenly a little harder to breathe.
I’m not sure how long we sit there, but it’s quiet for a while, and my thoughts turn further and further into inappropriate territory.
I take a peek at him out of the corner of my eyes. He’s focused on the warehouse.
Fuck it. I take the opening, turning my head to look at him fully. This time, I’m not trying to figure him out. Instead, I’m just… looking at him. The strong line of his jaw, dusted with stubble like he can never fully eliminate how it shadows his face. His hair is a mix of salt and pepper and pure silver. Most of the darker bits are hidden under what’s on top, and I didn’t notice that before.
His brows are dark, making his face seem more stern. Or perhaps that’s the perpetual frown. I’m pretty sure that’s a prerequisite for being in charge. But even with a frown, his mouth is full and pouty. Perfectly kissable.
I don’t know how my arguments about messing around with anyone so soon after Alistair have fallen away so quickly, but I’m truly past the point of caring about breakup etiquette. I want Sterling.
Molten desire churns inside me, and it’s getting harder and harder to control.
He turns to meet my gaze. Gray-blue irises shine like they’re lit from within. I swear he has the power to see right through me, read all the fantasies playing in my mind. And we’re so close. It would take little effort for me to tip up and press my mouth to his.
He could, too, but he seems to be waiting. For me to make a fool of myself? For some kind of sign that I will more than welcome any advance he makes? But no, I’m pretty sure I’ll have to make the first move if I want it badly enough.
I think I do.
But after a few long minutes, he clears his throat and sighs, peering back at the warehouse. “We should get back.”
“Just a little bit longer.” My voice is huskier than I anticipated. It earns me his probing gaze again.
Fuck it. I’ve spent too long waiting to get the things I want. I’m just going to take it.
Lifting to my knees, I slide into his lap. His big hand catches my thigh before I fall into the gap between his seat and the door. His touch is hot. Firm.
And he doesn’t push me away, so I sink into him, tipping my nose against his with the small promise of a kiss.
Sterling doesn’t take the hint, doesn’t take the lead. Is he trying to be a gentleman?
When my lips brush his, a spark jolts through me. His eyes still bore into mine, and I wish I could read him. Even a little. I kiss him more firmly, my lids fluttering closed as his mouth softens against mine. His other hand cups my hip under the bulky sweatshirt.
Each movement is small and soft, testing me as I tease his mouth open. Once I gain enough confidence to slide my hand into his hair, the tension between us cracks.
My body rocks against his, and I can feel so much through my stretched out shorts. He’s grown hard under me, his grip tightening with the same need that is consuming me.
Then, his hands dip under my fluffy barrier, skin grazing my waist. Sterling groans into my mouth as he realizes I’m not wearing a shirt underneath. Callused, rough palms blaze across my stomach and back.
I spread my thighs wider to grind against him. This time, I won’t settle for a mild orgasm from dry humping. I want Sterling inside me. I need it more than breath. More than anything right now.
Sliding my hands down his chest and stomach, I pull back enough to latch onto his belt, half prying it open.
“ Sloane… ”
“Don’t you dare.” I grab his bottom lip between my teeth. “I want this.”
He groans again, low and tortured, but he doesn’t protest as I work his pants open. Sterling simply watches me, features softer with desire, eyes hazy then sharp as I wrap a hand around him.
“You want me, too.” I say it against his lips as I stroke him.
His laugh is jagged. “Yes.”
I nip him. “Good.”
I’m untying my shorts and wiggling them down my hips. Fortunately, they’re stretched out enough that I can drag them down to my knees and still have some give because I can’t wait long enough to strip them completely free.
“Scooch down,” I order him, and he complies, helping me line myself up so that I can make the slow slide over his cock. After a few shallow thrusts, I lower myself completely over him, grinding our hips together to enjoy the way he stretches me open.
I’m panting from the pressure, moaning against his mouth.
Sterling rears up to catch me in another kiss, this one bending the universe around us as he finally takes charge. His mouth commands mine, and my body moves without conscious thought, hips lifting and lowering, rotating, enjoying every inch of him scraping against my inner walls.
My first sharp moan snaps something in him because his hands are gripping my hips hard with an almost bruising strength, helping me ride him with more gusto. God, I can barely hold on when he starts to pump up into me, too.
Our hips meet with harsh smacks, and I’m so fucking wet, hot.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt this kind of pleasure, since I haven’t had to carve out something enjoyable from sex with Alistair.
This is natural, building toward something I can barely comprehend. I don’t want it to end.
Sterling’s fingers tangle in my hair, tipping my head back for him to mouth kisses down my throat. His other hand has such a firm hold on my ass that the combination threatens to end me.
My cry echoes against the car windows.
“Fuck,” he swears against my skin.
I’m so close. So goddamn close. But I can’t let it end yet. Not yet. I need more, so much more of him. It’s too good.
Grabbing onto the seat behind him, I anchor myself. The glide of our bodies grows longer, harder until I swear he’s trying to pound into my womb.
My head falls forward, forehead pressing to his, and the mere sight of his desire nearly undoes me.
“God. Sterling…”
His eyes darken when I say his name, and we’re staring into each other when my control breaks. I’m crashing down over him with an orgasm so strong that it wipes away everything but him.
Pleasure floods his face, his hips tapping against that sensitive spot that detonated me seconds ago and drawing out the explosion. I happily hover in that space where reality and the brink of another world waver together, and just as my pleasure starts to ebb, Sterling jolts, pressing us together with a hard grip.
Another spark zaps my core, clamping me down in an echo of the climax he’s just given me. My strangled cry fades to the sound of his ragged breaths.
Sterling’s chest heaves under mine. I trace my fingers over his shoulders and neck, and I dip down to taste his skin, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses across his throat.
His hands squeeze me gently, a rhythm that moves up my hips and waist, and I don’t want to move. I don’t want this moment to be over.
Not yet.