Sloane
My skin prickles everywhere. I still feel his heat at my back, even though he stepped away. I don’t know what to think about this guy. He’s a cocky d**k, for sure.
But so. Hot.
Last time we were together, I would’ve sworn he hated me—he blew so much scorn and derision my way. And that’s still present today. But he’s also coming on to me.
Touching my hair.
Molding his body against mine to loosen the bolt, those military dog tags he wears clinking softly between us.
The big brawny jerk makes my knees go weak.
And I’m not usually what they call boy-crazy. In fact, when I moved to Cave Hills to live with my aunt and cousin, I told everyone I had a serious boyfriend back home just to keep myself out of the dating pool. After the mafia guy’s men showed up, it became even more impor
