Best Man For The Job (The Men of Fear Incorporated Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter Seven

Sloane

Tightening her arms around Brody, Sloane sighed. Her elbow brushed against his growing erection. Unable to help herself, she moaned, rubbing her cheek against his bare chest slowly. Her leg was thrown over his, leaving his thigh pressed against her core. Could he feel the heat through her panties? It had been over a month since they’d had sex.

Feeling brave for the first time in her life, she cupped his balls and then slid her hand up his shaft. The dull throb between her legs had her grinding herself against him slowly as his cock continued to lengthen in her hand.

“Now
this
could persuade me to like mornings.”

Giggling, she opened her eyes to look up at Brody’s face. Only it wasn’t Brody—it was Max looking down at her, a mixture of surprise, confusion, and desire storming in his eyes. They were breathtaking. Sloane’s brain finally came online. She remembered the events that led to her being in bed with Max.

“Ohmygod!” Sloane jumped up and stumbled halfway across the room, her hand covering her open mouth…until she realized it was the same hand that had just caressed Max’s dick. She quickly dropped it to her side. She could feel the flames dancing across her skin. With her pale complexion, she knew without a doubt her entire face and neck must resemble a beet. She was incredibly mortified.

“I am so sorry, Max!” she squeaked.

He laughed, standing up from the bed in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that were more than slightly raised in the front. “It’s okay.”

He tried to adjust himself inconspicuously, but seeing as she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, he really didn’t need to bother. His tanned chest was expansive, and lightly dusted with dark hair that covered his pecks and trailed down his mouthwatering abs to end somewhere past the elastic of his briefs. Tattoos swirled around his biceps in no discernible pattern. Sloane longed to trace each one with her fingertips…and her tongue.

He had the thickest thighs she’d ever seen on a man. At least on someone who wasn’t a professional bodybuilder. They screamed of power. What would those muscles feel like contracting underneath her? How could she have mistaken his body for Brody’s? Brody was a puny awkward teenage boy compared to Max.

“I can’t believe I just molested you like that. I’m truly horrified.” She covered her face with her hands, though she peeked between her fingers to gauge his reaction.

Max stalked across the room like a prowling panther and grabbed her shoulders. She dropped her hands by her side. His whiskey-colored eyes penetrated hers, holding her mesmerized and silent in their depths. She swallowed hard, having no choice but to give him her undivided attention.

“First off, stop apologizing. Secondly, I could have easily moved your hand at any time. Thirdly, it should be
me
apologizing.”

“You? For what?”

“I should have realized you didn’t know it was me. You wouldn’t have done that if you did. I should have stopped you, but I didn’t.”

He took a step back, dropping his hands. She would have wanted to, though. Even standing here like a statue, she wanted to reach for him. The loss of heat on her skin from his hands almost pulled a whimper from inside her. The awareness she felt with Max was staggering.

There had never been a time before now where she’d felt every nerve come alive inside of her from just the touch of someone’s hand. When he’d smiled, it made her insides melt.

“I’m gonna go get dressed. Then I’ll make some breakfast. You must be starving.”

“Um, sure. I could eat.”

Sloane watched his chiseled ass as he made his retreat from the room. She was still in shock at what she did. She’d never initiated things with Brody. What made her try this time? Did her subconscious know it was Max all along? Dropping down onto the mattress, she replayed the incident in her head. Her body craved him. She’d mourned the loss of his warm flesh pressed against hers. Damn, she had to get herself in check. Dressing in yesterday’s clothes, she left the sanctity of the bedroom, mentally preparing herself to see Max again.

The smell of cooking bacon had her practically salivating. When was the last time she ate? Max stood over the burners, flipping bacon and scrambling eggs. He was covered by a thin white ribbed tank top that clung to every muscle and a pair of worn blue jeans. He was barefoot and the top button of his pants was still undone. The heat that rushed through her had her clamping her thighs together. Too bad it only made matters worse. Max was incredibly sexy.

“Good timing.”

He piled food onto a plate. After setting it in front of her, he took the seat beside her with his own plate. They ate in companionable silence, until finally she looked over at him as he read the paper.

“So what now?”

“Now we sit tight and wait.”

“Wait for what, exactly?”

“For me to get some reliable intel so we can find this guy. Until then, you’ll stay here with me. I can keep you safe.”

“What about your job?”

“I can do everything I need to for my current workload from the comfort of my home office. So don’t worry. Okay?”

“Okay,” she sighed.

“What, no argument?”

“You’re right. No sense arguing.”

Sloane finished her breakfast quietly. She cleared their dishes from the table. She was startled when the wall phone rang by her head.

Max pushed to his feet and walked over to grab it. “Hello.”

There was a long pause before Max turned, his body stiffening slightly. He handed his phone out toward her. Sloane took it, a questioning look no doubt on her face. Max looked less than happy.

“It’s for you.”

For her? Foster and Bella must be wondering what in the world was going on. Maybe she could stay with them for a few days instead. She took the phone from Max’s outstretched hand.

“Hello?”

“Sloane, honey, are you okay?” Brody’s voice boomed through the handset.

“I’m fine. How did you know I was here?”

“I called Foster. He reamed me out pretty good after he told me what happened.”

She looked at Max. He casually leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of him. He was so damn striking that it was harder than she would have thought to pay attention to the conversation she was having. Watching him was too distracting. Mentally, she took a deep breath, fortifying her resolve to not even think about falling for a man like him. It would only lead to heartache and she’d had enough of that in her life. Her gaze fixed on anything other than the handsome man in the room with her. See, look how interesting the stove was.

“Where were you?”

“I was home, honey. My phone died so I had it charging. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

“Your phone was dead all night?”

Sloane could feel the pinpricks of tears forming in her eyes. Even though she had no real way of knowing for sure, deep down she knew Brody was lying. She risked a glance up at Max. The anger coming off of him was almost visible. Could he hear Brody on the other end of the line? She must look like a damn fool. Everyone at the station knew about Brody’s indiscretions. They were the perfect alibi for him. All except Foster. He was like Big Brother, always watching out for her, even when she didn’t want him to.

“Of course not, but I went to sleep while it was still charging. I’m sorry, honey. Do you want me to come get you? I can drop you at your apartment before I go to the station.”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“With Max?”

Brody’s loving boyfriend façade started to slip. There was an underlying hostility in his voice, and it grew stronger with each word he spoke. It almost sounded like jealousy, which was ridiculous—he had never been the jealous type in the past. Then again, she had never given him a reason to be.

“Are you fucking him, Sloane?”

“No. My God, how can you even think that? I’m not like you, Brody. I don’t fuck everything with a dick just because I can.”

“Most men would get frostbite after one night with you. You’re lucky I stick around like I do.”

Sloane gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand, the other squeezing the phone like a lifeline. She was temporarily unable to process the meaning behind his words. She couldn’t believe he’d just said that. The tears she fought so hard to hold back came streaming down her cheeks with a vengeance.

Max pushed away from the wall and stalked toward her. She held up a hand in a stop motion. No way could she let him interfere—she had to get used to doing things on her own again. She had to be the one to do this. She had to break this cycle, but Brody kept right on talking.

“I looked at you and thought I’d won the lotto. I was wrong. How can a woman as hot as you be so fucking dead inside?”

Every word was like a knife through her heart. She cared about him…
no
. Maybe what she really cared about now was the person he had been, but he hadn’t been
that
Brody in some time. The sex wasn’t great now like it had been in the past. That was before Brody thought their sex life should resemble a BDSM porn flick. Not that she thought there was anything wrong with them, but that life just wasn’t for her. She’d thought that as long as there was open communication, two people in love could work that out.

She wasn’t really in love with him yet, but there had been potential. If he only could’ve kept his dick in his pants.

But no more. Now, she was through bending over backwards to try to please him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I tried. I really did try to be what you wanted, but obviously I failed. This isn’t working.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This, us. It’s over. I can’t do it anymore.”

Sloane hung up the phone before Brody could say anything else. Her face was damp with spilled tears. She couldn’t stand the idea of Max witnessing another meltdown, so she pushed past him. She didn’t stop moving until she was curled up on the bed again.

She did it. She’d ended things with Brody. How could she have been so stupid? For almost a year she stayed with him knowing deep down it was wrong. She should have walked after the first time she caught him with another woman. Not that any of it mattered anymore. Sloane lay there for a long time. Long after her sobs ceased. Today would hurt. She would let the pain wash over her. She would feel everything and let it be a reminder to her future self. Today would hurt, but tomorrow she would be better.

***

Max

Max was beyond furious. He wanted to put his fist through that asshole’s face. Thinking of Sloane upstairs crying only made it worse. He wanted to go to her. Wrap her in his arms and tell her it was the best thing she could have done, but he knew she wouldn’t let him. As much as he wanted to, he knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t let himself get more attached than he already was. He didn’t do relationships, and even if he did, he wasn’t good enough for someone like her. He would only hurt her in the end, and she was already broken enough. That’s what he kept telling himself.

Needing to release some of the pent-up aggression, Max opened the door to the basement and descended into his personal gym. The room wasn’t huge, but it was all he needed. An exercise bike sat along the wall, across from the clothes washer and dryer. Next to that, a treadmill. The adjacent wall framed in the weight bench and the shelving for all the free weights. A punching bag and medicine bag rounded out the equipment before him. He clicked on the radio already tuned to a station that played a little bit of everything. This is what he needed to keep his head straight.

He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off, replacing them with a pair of athletic shorts he hadn’t yet removed from the dryer. His running shoes were where he’d left them by the weight bench. After slipping them on, he positioned himself on the side rails of the treadmill.

Max set the pace slow to warm up, and his feet touched the conveyer belt in a slow jog. After a few minutes his thoughts quieted completely. Nothing except his breathing and the music on his mind. Max could feel the tension draining slowly from his body. The DJ stopped talking and a song about a woman being out of the singer’s league poured from the surround sound speakers. Instantly he thought of Sloane.

Yup. That about sums it up in a nutshell.
Knowing that didn’t stop his thoughts from returning to this morning. The way she’d held onto him, sliding her silky leg up his rough one. Did she register the sharp intake of his breath when she wrapped her hand around his balls, sliding up his shaft? No matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t keep his body from responding. A few more minutes of that, and he would’ve had her on her back spread before him. It was like a dream, a sexy fantasy about to be fulfilled. Until she raised those gorgeous baby blues to his.

The fantasy shattered into a million pieces as embarrassment washed across her features. Even that was adorable as all hell. After fisting himself to completion last night thinking of those perfect legs, it was nice to know she was just as affected by him as he was by her. It was the regret and realization that he wasn’t Brody that ruined it. He’d kept things light, acting as if it were no big deal. But inside, he’d been berating himself.