Chapter 14 Sloane
Sloane
“An outlier.”
“Unaffected by the frequency.”
“This method is harder to produce.”
Van’s words echo in my mind the entire drive back to my apartment.
I glance over to examine his new clothing.
Before leaving, Van changed into something more comfortable that still concealed his identity.
He’s now wearing a black ski mask that hides his eyes with a mesh covering.
I trail my gaze down to the black fitted T-shirt that outlines his toned arms, continuing down to his black sweatpants that outline …
another large part of his body. I quickly avert my gaze, staring out my window to watch as the trees pass by.
I study the redwoods like they’re the most fascinating trees I’ve ever seen.
It’s suddenly too hot and too small in here.
I press the automatic window control until a small crack appears, letting in the spring breeze. I suck in a deep, cleansing breath.
“Everything okay?” He clears his throat.
“Mhm. Just thinking about everything,” I say, partial truth.
“Sloane, I … we won’t let anything happen to you.
Sabel won’t find out. Change the angle of your story to avert her attention.
Everything will be fine.” He’s now half turned to face me.
The way my name sounds coming out of his mouth in that deliciously deep, low voice has my stomach doing cartwheels. Stupid stomach.
“How do you know that? Are you going to keep tabs on me or something?” I question.
“If that’s what you want. I can have a friend keep an eye on things, make sure you aren’t in any danger.
I’ll give you my cell in case of emergency, but I won’t bother you again, unless you ask me to.
” He says that last part almost like it’s an invitation.
I gulp. Do I want him to? No, no, definitely not.
“Um, sure. As long as no one is interfering with my work or personal life. Whatever needs to be done,” I say, as we pull into my driveway. I open my door to climb out, one foot making it to the pavement, when he grabs my wrist and tugs me back in. I gasp, turning toward him.
“Sloane.” His gaze drops down to my wrist and then back up to me.
His next words are nearly a whisper. “Be careful.” He lets go of my wrist, and the momentum carries me back out of the vehicle.
The automatic door closes, and I stand there awestruck for several seconds.
The next thing I know, the vehicle is gone.
? ? ?
What was that? I think, as I’m sitting shoulder deep in my claw-foot tub that’s filled to the brim with hot water and bubbles.
Van is so intense and so odd. Maybe it comes with the territory of being a masked vocalist of a number-one rock band.
Maybe it’s something else, though. The way he said my name still echoes in my mind, playing on repeat like a melody I never asked to remember.
What is with these intense men? First, the professor. Now Van.
I’m lost in my thoughts as I remove my hand from its resting place on the tub edge.
I trail my fingers down between my breasts and over my right nipple, flicking it between my fingertips as I lean my head back against the tub and release a sigh.
I continue trailing my hand down my wet body, dipping it below the water until my index and middle fingers are circling over my sensitive bud.
I moan as images of a beautiful masked man grabbing my throat and possessing me flash through my mind.
I hear Van growling my name in my head in that way he does when he’s warning me.
I imagine him warning me to come for him.
I circle my fingers faster and faster, reaching for that spine-tingling sensation as a name forces its way to the front of my mind and escapes my parted lips.
“Professor Reilly,” I moan, throwing my head back against the tub. Now, I’m seeing his strong hand gripped firmly around my wrist. Riven’s distinctive eyes look up at me through thick black lashes. And before I can think about it, I’m shattering into a million pieces as I find my release. Shit.
? ? ?
I’m sitting downstairs on my sofa, curled up in a soft plum-colored throw, remote in hand.
I’m unsure how long I’ve been holding it and staring at the dark TV.
My thoughts are entirely occupied by someone else.
Two someones, to be exact. I cannot believe that I just got myself off while thinking about Van and Professor Reilly.
Maybe I’ll attribute this to the Sahara Desert that is my current sex life.
I was just … thirsty, is all. I’m internally cringing at myself when I hear a text alert on my phone.
Professor Reilly: Hey, Sloane. I wanted to check in and see how your story was going. I’d be happy to assist you more if needed.
I sigh. Well, speak of the devil. I shake my head and type out a response.
Sloane: Hi, Mr. Reilly. Um, about that. Can we meet up? There are some things that I’d like to get your thoughts on. Are you free tomorrow morning?
Professor Reilly: Is that so? Yes, I am. Same place?
Sloane: Yep! Meet you there at 9 am. Have a good night, Mr. Reilly. (;
Oh my God. I never allow my inhibited thoughts to become actions.
I am not that girl. A wink? Now I’m internally cringing.
I see three dots appear on the screen and throw my phone to the other side of the sofa, covering my mouth.
No, no, no. I sigh, collect myself, and crawl over to pick the phone up.
I peek at the screen through squinted eyes, like I can shield myself from the humiliation. When I open them, there’s no response.
I bite my bottom lip while holding my phone in both hands, staring at it. Okay, maybe that’s for the best. I close my phone and stand from the sofa. It’s time to call it a night. Maybe all I need is a good night’s rest. Right?
? ? ?
I wake the next morning with a throbbing headache and immediately roll over to reach into my bedside table and grab the bottle of pain relievers.
So much for a good night’s rest. I down two of them with the bottle of water on my nightstand.
I finish off the water as I sort through my memories, landing on one of me sending a wink face to Professor Reilly.
My cheeks burn, and I instantly want to hide under my covers for the remainder of the day.
Then, I remember the meeting with him and jump out of bed, looking down at my bedside clock that reads 8:30 am.
Shit. I grab my phone and shoot him a text before running into my bathroom to get ready.
Sloane: Hey, I’m running a little late. I am so sorry! If you need to reschedule, I would completely understand.
I’m brushing through my tangled hair while scolding my reflection in the mirror when he responds.
Professor Reilly: No worries, it’s all good. I’m early. I got a table in the corner. I have some papers to grade, anyway. Take your time. I’ll be here.
Whew. I relax a little, but hurriedly wash my face and brush my teeth before responding.
Sloane: Okay, perfect! I’ll be there shortly. I am so sorry again.
I throw my hair up in a claw clip, throw on some mascara, and light pink lip gloss.
I rush to my closet and pull out a medium-length black skirt and a white blouse that I tuck into it.
I throw on a pair of black heels and take one final look in the mirror before heading downstairs.
I sigh at my reflection; it will have to do.
I climb into my Volvo and head to Books and Brews, considering what I plan to tell Professor Reilly.
Considering how much I plan to tell him.
Something about him is so familiar, and it makes me feel like I can trust him.
Telling someone else about the experiment would ease some of the burden that this secret brings me.
I considered telling Lydia, but she is such a gossip.
As much as she truly tries, she would never be able to keep it to herself.
I even thought about going straight to the police, but I can’t help but feel this strange protectiveness over Reverb and Van.
I believed Graf when he said they were going to find a way out.
From my short encounter with Graf, he seems like the type who means what he says.
I arrive at the coffee shop as my car screen reads 10:11 am. One hour late.
I’m walking through the parking lot toward the entrance when I’m pretty sure I spot the blacked-out Mercedes passing the street in my peripheral vision. I’m unable to stop the smile as I turn and walk into the coffee shop.