King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, #4)

by Ana Huang

To every woman who’s ever been told to “smile more.” Fuck that. Do what you want.

If I ruined my brand-new Stella Alonso dress over this, I’d kill him, bring him back to clean up the mess, then kill him again.

“Technically, you are an intruder, but a very beautiful one. If you wanted to join me in bed, you only had to say so. No need to go to all this trouble.”

“I’ll attend the gala if you promise to join me on vacation after. Three weeks in Spain. No work, just play.”

One week in Spain with one of my least favorite people on the planet. What could possibly go wrong?

Nothing brightened my day more than riling Sloane up. She was so predictable in her responses and so spectacular in her anger, and I loved seeing her ice-queen façade melt long enough to reveal a glimpse of the real person underneath. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, I added it to the mental drawer where I collected all things Sloane.

“Ah, you’re one of those.” I flicked a gaze over my new publicist’s tight bun and tailored dress. “Uptight rule follower. Got it. You should’ve introduced yourself that way instead of with your name.” The glare she bestowed on me could’ve leveled an entire city block.

Objectively, Sloane was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met. Blue eyes, long legs, symmetrical face…Michelangelo himself couldn...

On anyone else, her simple black gown would’ve been boring, but Sloane could wear a grocery bag and still blow everyone else out of the water.

She’d obviously dressed with the intention of blending in, but she could no more blend into a crowd than a jewel could blend into mud.

She was prickly as hell, but she was also beautiful, smart, and accomplished. Even now, there were multiple men sneaking peeks at her from surrounding tables. I downed my drink and glared at one of them until he looked away, his face red. Sloane was my date in name only, but it was bad form for other people to ogle her when she’d come with me. Did no one observe proper etiquette anymore?

“Just shut up and follow me,” I snapped, wishing I had a wittier reply. “Yes, ma’am.” His cheeks dimpled. “I love a woman in charge.”

This close, I could see flecks of gray in her blue eyes and smell a trace of her perfume. It was clean and light, like fresh linen with a hint of jasmine. They were things I shouldn’t notice about a woman who tolerated me at best and despised me at worst. But I did, and once I noticed them, I couldn’t stop thinking about them.

Sloane was beautiful. Fact. I’d been physically attracted to her since the moment we met. Also fact. But it’d been a low-simmering attraction, the type I could brush off by focusing on something else. Recently, however, it’d ramped up to the point where there was nothing else. I didn’t know the reason for the change, but I knew that right now, as we sat in the sauna I’d stupidly insisted on going into, I looked at her and couldn’t breathe.

Little did she know, there was nothing she could do that I’d mistake for weakness. She was one of the strongest people I knew, and only a fool would think otherwise.

“You always underestimate me.” “And you always provoke me.” He gave a casual shrug. “I like it when you get mad. Proves you’re not an ice queen after all.” My buzz disappeared fast enough for me to feel the punch of his words. If you weren’t such an ice queen all the time, maybe I wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. She’s hot, but I bet she’s frigid in bed… For God’s sake, Sloane, smile. Why can’t you look happy for once? The pressure returned. A lump crawled into my throat, but as always, my eyes remained dry. No wonder people called me an ice queen. I couldn’t even show emotion properly.

The dramatic slant of his cheekbones, the thick dark brows, the sculpted mouth that seemed infinitely more inviting when it wasn’t wearing a provocative smile…his face dared me to look away, and I couldn’t. Electric awareness dripped into the air and snuffed out the oxygen. Xavier and I had been alone many times before, but this was the first time I recognized the danger in him. Beneath the layers of indolent self-possession, there was a man who could set my world aflame if he wanted.

“You don’t know how I taste.” His smile took on a decidedly more wicked slant. “Not yet.”

I knew she loved sushi because it was neat and easy to eat on the go. I knew she preferred double cheeseburgers when she was on her period and steak, medium rare, at client dinners unless her client was vegetarian, in which case she ordered soup and salad. She liked her wine white, her coffee black, and her gin with a splash of tonic. 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.

It wasn’t her clothes or her body. It was the way she moved, looser and more fluid than normal. It was the way she carried herself, confident with a hint of vulnerability. And it was the way she commanded attention without trying, like she was a fucking goddess among mortals. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I’m not you. People don’t care what I do in my free time.” “That’s not true.” I care. The thought rose, unbidden, before I banished it.

“You’re always telling me to ‘loosen up.’ Now that I am, you have a problem with it?” “I have a problem with some random guy groping you in public,” I snapped. “Why?” Because the thought of anyone else touching you fucking kills me.

His hair gleamed thick and glossy in the sunlight; a stray lock fell over his eye, brushing his cheekbone and softening the bold lines of his face. He wore a plain gray T-shirt and jeans that molded to his body like they were made for him, and his biceps flexed with every swoop and curve of his pencil. A tingle of sudden awareness cascaded down my spine.

“I said your hobbies are boring, not you. I don’t find a single thing about you boring.” My heartbeat stumbled.

“Before we go in there…” Xavier swallowed, his eyes clouded with turmoil. “Thank you for checking on me.” The words landed like arrows, each in its vulnerable target. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but in a house filled with his family, I was the first person to check and see if he was okay.

Thankfully, she didn’t smother me with pity. I could always count on Sloane to be Sloane. Whenever I was drowning, she was my anchor in the storm.

Perfect hair. Perfect clothes. Perfect skin. She was the picture of flawlessness, but I was starting to see the cracks beneath her polished façade. Instead of detracting from her beauty, they added to it. They made her more real, like she wasn’t an elusive dream that would slip through my fingers if I tried to touch her.

“Anyway, I wanted to show you since this was your idea.” Xavier gestured at the remaining documents, which contained notes, scribbles, and ideas for the club. “If it weren’t for you…” His face softened further. “I don’t know where I’d be.” The hum in my blood intensified.

And when he let out a tortured “fuck” and dipped his head, molding his mouth to mine, it didn’t even occur to me to pull away. This was the world, and I never wanted to leave. Logic and reasoning fell to tatters in the scorching tangle of lips and teeth. One hand grabbed my nape and pulled me closer; the other splayed across my back, burning through cashmere and skin to turn me boneless.

I, Sloane Kensington, was attracted to Xavier Castillo. No, not just attracted to, but liked. Enough to forget my strict rules about not getting involved with clients. Enough to let him kiss me and to kiss him back. I groaned and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. I’m so fucked.

I told myself I didn’t want to complicate our relationship or fuck up the terms of my allowance, when in reality, a part of me suspected that giving in to that attraction would spell the end for me. Then we’d started working together and I’d discovered the layers beneath her rigid exterior. The intelligence. The conviction. The fierce loyalty to those she cared about. And I no longer suspected but knew, especially after that kiss, that Sloane Kensington was it. Just like that.

Screw it. If I was going to do this, I might as well go all in. “Go on a date with me,” I said. Her eyes flared with an unidentifiable emotion before they shuttered. “No.” “Why not? And forget about your job for a second. Give me a real reason, Sloane.” Her fingers curled tight around her fork. Odds were, she was picturing stabbing me with it, but I didn’t mind a little hypothetical violence. It kept things interesting. The noise from the dining room retreated as I waited for an answer. Beneath my casual exterior, my heart fought to break out of my chest. I’d never felt this nervous over someone, ever.

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.

Some people’s anger ran hot, exploding in outbursts and impulsive violence. Xavier’s ran cold, smoothing his tone, frosting the air, and sending another breathless shiver over my skin. I could and did take care of myself. I didn’t want to play the damsel in distress, and I didn’t need a man barging in to reiterate things I’d already said. But fuck, sometimes it felt good to have backup, especially when it came wrapped in muscles and devastating charm.

“I don’t want a kiss or a one-night stand,” he said. “I want you. I want to know you outside work. I want to take you on real dates. And I don’t know if it’ll work out in the end, but I want us to at least try.”

Oh my God. A giant standing TV screen dominated one side of the rooftop, kitty-corner to a table covered with every snack one could think of. There were white ceramic dishes filled with M&M’s, pretzels, gummy bears, and other candies I couldn’t identify at this distance; plates groaning with chips, cookies, and sundry snacks; massive bowls containing six different types of popcorn; and a full charcuterie board. A champagne bucket sat next to tea, coffee, and three bottles of wine (one red, one white, one rosé). Beneath the table, a glass-fronted minifridge boasted an assortment of water, juice, and soda. Area rugs and potted plants scattered across the floor, lending the scene a cozy feel. Strategically placed candles and the canopy of lights overhead illuminated the rooftop in lieu of the setting sun while portable heat lamps warded off the cold. However, the real star of the show was the giant mattress laid out in front of the screen. Piled high with pillows, cushions, and cashmere blankets, it looked so cozy I wanted to dive right into the middle and never get up.

The entire setup was so cheesy, it looked like something out of a rom-com. And I loved it. Emotion prickled my chest. When was the last time someone put this much thought into something for me? My exes had taken me to expensive dinners and exclusive shows, which were nice, but they only cost money. Time and care required far more effort, and no one had ever deemed me worthy of those things.

“You would rather watch a rom-com about a witch and a plumber falling in love than attend a costume party with celebrities?” “One hundred percent. As long as I’m watching it with you.” His answer came out so casually, it took a second to register. Once it did, the patter morphed into a full-blown marching band, drums and all. Damn him.

Another type of warmth, one that had nothing to do with arousal, pooled in my stomach. “Is that what you’re trying to do? Woo me?” “Depends.” A smile played on his lips. “Is it working?” Yes. “No.” “Liar.” “A suitor shouldn’t call the object of his wooing a liar. It’s poor etiquette.” “I’m honest when the situation calls for it, and you’d die of boredom if someone simply agreed with everything you said and did.” His pinky, still hooked around mine, curled just a bit tighter. I wished I minded. “You think you know me so well,” I whispered, even though he was right. “Only parts of you.” The gentle brush of his thumb against my hand unlocked a colony of butterflies in my stomach. “But we’ll get there.”

“You need to get to the hospital. This is the fastest way we can get there,” he said calmly. He drove with one hand; the other closed around over mine, interlacing our fingers. I stiffened with surprise. “Don’t worry, Luna. We’ll make it.” I stared at his profile for a second before my gaze drifted to our intertwined hands. His was so large it engulfed mine, and so warm the heat radiated up my arm, through my chest, and into my stomach. He was focused on the road, and his act of comfort was a casual, unthinking one, but somehow that made it all the more intimate. Emotion climbed into my throat, thick and sudden.

“Sloane. Listen to me.” Xavier grasped my shoulders and turned me so I faced him. His eyes glittered like dark coals of anger. “You are not fucking frigid. You’re one of the most driven, passionate people I know, even if you may show it differently than others, and you built one of the best PR firms in the world in five years. You think someone without passion can do that? And even if you were quote unquote ‘cold’ to your asshole ex, he deserved it. If he doesn’t appreciate you for who you are, then he damn well doesn’t deserve your time or energy.” His expression was fierce, and his touch seared like it was trying to impress his conviction onto my soul. It happened so suddenly, I would’ve stumbled had I been standing. A whoosh swept through my stomach, followed by the dizzying, disorienting, but not totally unpleasant sensation of tumbling over an edge. Pieces of me floated alongside his words, little champagne bubbles that shouldn’t exist after such a shitty day but did anyway. Xavier Castillo. Only you.

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.

“You said you don’t pass first base on the first date.” Her gaze flickered beneath the lights. “What about the second?” Her question sent a shock through my system, the earlier heat igniting into an inferno that razed every other thought I had to ash. There was only her, and this, and us. “I could be convinced.” My husky drawl betrayed the desire coiling in my body. My skin stretched too tightly over my muscles, and if I didn’t taste her soon, I would implode.

She stood on tiptoes and, after a brief, agonizing moment, brushed her mouth against mine. That was it. A single brush, and the leash on my restraint snapped. One hand dove into her hair, cupping the back of her head while her arms circled around my neck. The other pushed us back against the wall until our bodies molded into each other. I didn’t give a fuck who was watching. No one else except her existed in this moment, and I couldn’t get enough of her—the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her taste, the little moans and gasps as I explored her mouth with the hunger of a man starved.

If kisses had colors, this one would reflect the tatters of control swirling around us, a symphony of crimson and amber and pure, stunning cobalt. They sank beneath my skin, sending electric currents over every raw, exposed nerve. In a world of black and white, she was my kaleidoscope.

I’d never seen anyone more perfect. So fucking beautiful, and so fucking mine.

Every time I thought she couldn’t get more perfect, she proved me wrong.

“Good girl.” I gathered her hair in a fist and tugged her head back. The rise and fall of her chest quickened, and a small smile touched my lips. “I like it better wrapped around my fist.”

Her eyes fluttered open again, and she slanted a narrow-eyed glare at me. “Are you going to keep talking, or are you going to finish what you started?” A rumble of laughter rose in my chest. That’s my girl. Sloane wouldn’t be Sloane without her sharp tongue, even when she was pinned naked beneath me. “I always finish what I start.” I tightened my fist around her hair and gave it another tug. Her head arched, baring her throat, and a small quiver rippled through her body as I traced the delicate length of her neck with my mouth.

We fit so perfectly it was like God himself had custom carved us for each other, and when she moved, it was like sliding home into heaven.