☆ ☆ DID YOU BUY SLOTH IN THE LAST FEW DAYS? ☆ ☆
My formatter re-formatted the book this past weekend. During this particular formatting, which has only been for sale for a few days, she accidentally pasted Part II, Chapter 14 twice, and did not paste the text of Chapter 15 onto the file at all. There is a Chapter 15 header, but the content below it is NOT Chapter 15; it’s a duplicate of Chapter 14. The Chapter 15 content is missing.
If your Part II, Chapter 15 begins: “The second Kellan and I start down the stairs,” you are in need of Chapter 15. For the moment, you can read that chapter below, and then proceed with the rest of the book. There are no other issues with this file.
A corrected file has been uploaded, and I have no doubt each vendor will push a new version out to those of you who downloaded this one.
I’m so sorry for this error and the inconvenience it has caused some of you!
If your Part II, Chapter 15 begins, “Kellan carries me to the windowed room,” your copy does not have this error.
HERE IS THE CORRECT PART II, CHAPTER 15 TEXT:
Kellan carries me to the windowed room. I assume he plans to pull the covers back and peel my clothes off, but instead he tucks me into bed and disappears, returning a few minutes later with a mug in hand. Steam wafts off the top. He sets it on the nightstand and leans against the mattress.
“Sit up a little,” he whispers, smiling softly down at me. I’ve got my head propped in my hand and I’m lying on my side, just looking out the windows and thinking. I drag my tired self up, and he plants a kiss on my forehead.
“Thanks.” I wrap an arm around his back, and for a blissful moment, his forehead is against my neck—and I have him. The weight of him. The smell of him. All his wonderful intentions, and my fantasies, which have only just begun to simmer.
Then he leans back, hands me the mug, and winks. “Try that.”
“What is it?”
“What does it smell like?” He smiles and tilts his head, watching as I take a tentative sip.
“Ahh, that’s—whoa, that’s really good. It’s hot chocolate with…”
“Brandy and Frangelico.”
“What’s Frangelico?” I ask before taking another long, warm sip.
“Hazelnut liqueur. Italian.”
“God.” It pools in my belly, and with the next long sip, I feel a blanket of drowsiness cover me.
“You should get some sleep,” he says. He walks to the head of the bed and I feel his hands on my hair—pulling the rubber band off the bottom of my braid, then separating the wavy locks.
I sigh. “That feels amazing.”
“Good.” He smooths my hair down my back and kisses my temple.
I blink at him. Is this the same guy who disarmed and cajoled me…. what? Mere days ago? I feel like I’ve known him my entire life.
“What will you do while I sleep?” I ask, folding my hands around the mug. As much as I’d love to go to sleep, I think I want him near me more.
“I’ve got a dealer meeting, then a thing with Manning.”
“Oh, a thing?” I smile, teasing.
“We do it twice a week. I’ll bring you to the next one.” His mouth presses tight, then curves back up into a pensive half-smile. “It’s for the charitable distribution.”
“Oh, like for the ailing people?”
“I’d love to go to one. I want to help.”
“That’s what I love about you,” he says quietly. Without another word, he turns and goes.
I’m asleep in minutes, dreaming of his arms… his blue eyes, crinkled with his smile. Around the corner somewhere, Olive dances with my lipstick in her hand.
I don’t know what time I wake up, roused by the strange and lovely sensation of something vibrating in my pussy. My legs are spread, my knees bent and the soles of my feet touching, drawn up under my bare ass. As the undulations grow stronger, I try to writhe toward the pleasure and I find I can’t. I’m bound at the ankles.
I test my arms, both spread, and find they’re tied as well.
I open my eyes and look around the room. The canopy is gone, so I can see the moonlight pouring through the wall of windows.
I see the shadows shift outside, and find Kellan outside on the balcony. He’s leaning against the thick cement wearing nothing but an open robe, watching as I struggle with desire.
I roll my hips. I clench around the thing inside my cunt and feel my clit throb. Oh—I want to moan.
I tug against the binds around my wrists. I gasp as the vibrations change. Now the egg is throbbing, working itself deeper into me. So deep, I have to move my hips. I lift my backside off the bed and watch as Kellan glides across the balcony and pulls the door open.
The tempo of the throbbing increases. I pull against my binds because if I could just roll over, if I could get this egg thing closer to my clit, then maybe I could get off.
Kellan seems to drift onto the bed. In his black robe, he looks like the grim reaper as he leans his blond head down and licks my pussy. I’m reminded of a tiger’s tongue—and then I only know the trembling of my fists, the fierce throb deep inside me. I’m already so aroused, it only takes a few soft, hot licks before I’m pulsing. I gasp his name and let my pleasure take me under.
When I open my eyes, I find Kellan sitting near my hips. He’s cross-legged, his dark robe pooled in his lap.
I start to laugh at how hard I came, laugh out my embarrassment, when my gaze finds his face.
His eyes are fixed somewhere out ahead of him, on the wall beside the door. He doesn’t look down at me as I say his name, nor in the seconds after.
“Hey,” I say more gently. “You okay?”
He blinks, and my gut clenches. There’s something strange about his eyes. About his whole face.
My hand flinches in its knot. “Kell—can you untie me?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Anxiety streaks through me. What’s going on? I’m tied up—totally defenseless. How much do I trust him? Those are fear’s questions.
Then I see his mouth move—just a tremble—and everything falls away except a thick swell of concern.
I try to turn my body toward him, try to reach him with my hand. I can’t, of course.
“Kellan? Hey… what’s wrong?”
His eyes shift to my body; not my face. He blinks again, doll-like. In a low voice, he says, “You should go.”
His eyes shut. As he opens them, he moves onto his knees and starts to untie me. I watch the gorgeous ripple of his shoulders, the column of his throat. His face is pained. His gaze is everywhere except my face.
As soon as I can sit up, I grab his arms and tug him toward me. “Kellan. Look at me.”
He does, and I can see his eyes are red.
“Did you smoke?” Maybe that’s it. I discard that almost as quickly as I think of it. He’s not high. He’s upset. Something. “What happened?” He rests his gaze on mine, then slowly tugs it away. He’s looking over at my painting on the wall: Thomas.
I open my mouth to ask if I did something wrong, but I have a gut feeling it’s not that.
I reach up and frame his face with my hands, tilting his head down gently. His eyes fall to my chin, to my throat. “Talk to me—please.”
I watch his jaw clench. I watch his lips as they move uncertainly around whatever they will say.
I don’t know what happened, but I can feel him wrestling with something.
I stroke up and down his back and press my cheek against his warm, hard chest. It rises with a long breath. His chin comes down atop my head, settling there slowly, like he isn’t sure, he doesn’t want to… but he does. He wraps his arms around me too and we are intertwined.
I can feel his heart beat—fast.
“There was a wreck… My Uncle Pace.” He draws away from me, and finally, he gives me his gaze. I can see the pain in it. My throat knots.
“I’ve gotta go to Atlanta,” he says thickly. “It’s going to be a big thing… for my family.”
Questions rise in me like bubbles, simmering and popping. I push them down and stroke his arm. “What happened? Is he going to be okay?”
“I don’t know.” He stares at something over my shoulder. He looks anesthetized.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” His voice sounds ragged. His skin is so, so pale.
I wrap my arms around him. “Kellan, I’m not going home. For one, I can’t. Remember? I’m sort of banned from the Tri Gam house for now. I want to drive up with you. Please let me.” I look up at him. “I’ll do anything you ask.”
His eyes find mine. “You can’t. I can’t…” He shakes his head. “My family.”
“I’ll wait in the car. I’ve got homework I can do. I just want to ride with you—so you don’t have to be by yourself. Pretty please?”
He nods, the movement so subtle I almost miss it. “Okay.” I stroke his hair. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “What can I do to help get ready?”
“Just get dressed,” he says.
He’s off the bed and out the door without another glance at me. I quickly check my phone: 3:38 AM.
I find him in the kitchen twenty minutes later, looking red-eyed, looking pale, and mostly looking lost.
I pack some food for us as he leans on the counter, hovering over his phone. I take his hand, and we walk to the door. When Truman pitches a dog fit, I look at Kellan and he nods. “Whatever.”
He lets go of my hand to lock the door, and after that, he props an arm against the outside wall.
“Are you okay?”
“Worried,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side so he can see me. His mouth is vulnerable and soft. I think of kissing it, but decide he may not want that, so I just take his hand in mine again.
He unlocks the Escalade and opens my door. After I’ve climbed into the passenger’s seat, I look down at him and see his eyes are closed.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Nothing.” His eyes open to slits.
I slide down and take the keys from his pocket.
“Let me drive you, okay? You just ride.” I open the back door. Truman bounds up. When I climb behind the wheel, I find Kellan is leaned back in his seat.