King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, #4)

by Ana Huang

On my list of worst ways to die, overheating half naked in a sauna with Xavier Castillo ranked somewhere between medieval torture and getting eaten alive by piranhas, which was why it was not going to happen.

I knew all of these things because despite her assumption that I paid attention to no one except myself, I couldn’t stop noticing her if my life depended on it. Every detail, every moment, all filed and categorized in the Sloane cabinet of my mind. I would never tell her any of that, though, because if there was one thing sure to send Sloane Kensington running, it was the possibility of intimacy.

What a good boy

What was Sloane doing at the villa? Was she eviscerating some poor rom-com again? Her reviews were vicious, but I found the passion with which she wrote them oddly charming. She was so reserved all the time that it was nice to see an area in her life where she fully let herself go. Luca said something else, but I barely heard him. What the hell was in that email she’d gotten? She’d said it wasn’t a work thing. Was it her family? Her friends? Her unconfirmed mystery lover? If only she were here so⁠—

Hes obsessed and i love it

We were different in so many ways, but sometimes, all people needed was one point of commonality. One infinitesimal thing that made them feel less alone.

And I no longer suspected but knew, especially after that kiss, that Sloane Kensington was it. Just like that.

The problem? Men always got so attached. Sleep with them a couple of times and they suddenly thought we were going to ride off into the sunset together. I didn’t even like sunsets. They were depressing.

I love her with my whole heart

Sloane and I had kissed once, and she’d already ruined me for other women.

I didn’t want her. I needed her. Desperately. I needed her the way the ocean tides needed the moon, and I would give anything for her to feel a fraction of the same way toward me.

What the hell happened? One second, I was working and smiling so much I scared Jillian. The next, I was on the verge of a breakdown over a man. Past me was disgusted with myself, but past me didn’t know what current me knew: this trial period I’d proposed had backfired spectacularly.

“Luna is short for mi luna. My moon. Because no matter how dark the nights got, you were always there, shining so brightly that I always found my way through.”

“I’ve been falling in love with you day by day for years, and I didn’t even know it,” he said, his voice thick. “Well, now I know it.”

“I love you, Sloane. Every fucking inch of you, and I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same. Tell me you aren’t running because you’re scared of getting hurt again. Tell me you truly believe we can’t work when the past two months have been the best of my life. Even with my father’s death, and Perry, and a dozen things that went wrong, they were still perfect because you were there.”

I lifted my head, my heart aching as I looked at the man who’d always been there for me, in one way or another, since he entered my life. “I love you,” I said

“Love isn’t about perfection, Luna; it’s about imperfect people creating their own version of happily ever after. And while I don’t know everything, I do know this: Every version of my happily ever after will always include some version of you.”

Everything I’d gone through was worth it for this moment. And yeah, a couple kissing on the top of the Empire State Building after their big reconciliation was such a movie cliché, but like I said… Sometimes, the rom-coms got it right.

It didn’t matter how many mornings I woke up to her or how many nights I fell asleep beside her; she never failed to take my breath away.