"Shut up," I mutter.
"You're the first one dumb enough to do it for paperwork and feelings," East goes on. "What happened to 'no attachments, no liabilities'?"
Sloane happened.
I flip him off. He laughs.
Nash speaks up, quiet steel. "If you need backup today, you say it."
I meet his eyes. Nothing soft there. If Mercer makes a move, I'm already moving.
"Yeah." I hold his gaze. "I know."
Behind the bedroom door, something hits the floor. Frankie swears. Maggie shushes her. Sloane's laugh edges toward breathless.
I want that door open the way I want air.
James glances toward the hall. "They done in there?"
"Would you rush Maggie?"
He grunts. Point taken.
They eat. I pick at eggs and burn through coffee. Then the hall goes quiet. The bedroom door opens, then I hear soft footsteps.
Maggie and Frankie come first, wide grins, eyes on me as though they're waiting for the show. Between them, Sloane.
I forget how to breathe for a second. Just flat-out forget.
The dress is simple. Sleeveless. Smooth fabric that hugs her torso and flares just barely over her hips, ending mid-thigh. A-line. Clean lines. No lace. No bullshit. It fits the way sin handles.
Her shoulders are bare, delicate collarbones framed by the neckline, and there's a thin gold chain against the hollow of her throat. Her hair in soft waves around her face, loose and touchable, shaped so I can see my hand in it.
Maggie and Frankie went light on makeup. Sloane's eyes look huge. Her mouth is soft and pink. Her heels make her taller, legs longer. That much thigh in my kitchen should be illegal.
I brace on the counter. Mine.
"Jesus," East whispers.
"Mm-hmm," Maggie says smugly.
Frankie smirks and elbows her.
Sloane stands there, twisting her fingers together, half hiding behind Maggie's shoulder. She looks ready to bolt and also ready to face a firing squad.
Slow down, Knox. Don't pounce.
I close the distance one step at a time. Her eyes track me, pupils blown wide. When I stop in front of her, she drops her gaze instinctively, waiting for judgment.
Two fingers under her chin. I tip her face up. "Hey." Low enough that the word is just for her.
Her hazel eyes, ringed in gold, stare back at me.
"Say something," she whispers. "Before I pass out."
My thumb grazes her jaw. I span her waist with my palm, fingers almost meeting at her spine. She shivers.
"You are—" The rest catches on the want choking me. "Sloane, you're fucking stunning." Color floods her cheeks. She starts to look away. I bring her back. "Don't look away from me. Not today."