King of Sloth (Kings of Sin #4) by Ana Huang

Heat crawled beneath my skin as she strode through the room, either unaware or unimpressed by the eyes following her.

Rich cobalt silk poured over her frame, baring her shoulders and stopping high enough on her thigh to tease the imagination without revealing too much. Silver heels added four inches to her height, and her skin glowed like pearls kissed by moonlight.

I grimaced. Pearls kissed by moonlight? Where the hell had that come from? I wasn’t a poetic person in the least, but she looked good enough to inspire Shakespeare himself.

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.

She stopped in front of me and Luca, and my blood burned just a little hotter in her presence.

“Sloane Kensington entering a nightclub for fun.” I hid my body’s visceral reaction behind a lazy smile. “Someone check the temperature in hell. It must be freezing down there.”

“Very original.” Now that she was closer, I spotted a telltale flush on her cheeks. Was she already drunk?

It was so out of character, I could only stare, astonished, as she took a fresh drink from Luca’s hand and downed it in one smooth pull.

I cast a warning glare at my friend. Now that Evelyn was out of the picture again, I didn’t want him getting any more ideas about using Sloane as a rebound. She was a mutual acquaintance. Any relationship between them would be too complicated, obviously.

So would any relationship between us, which was why I switched to water and made a pointed effort to stay away from Sloane for the next hour as she circulated the room.

Unfortunately, the VIP lounge was a confined space. No matter what I did or who I talked to, she was always there, occupying my thoughts and drawing my attention until whatever conversation I was holding drifted into silence.

“Dude, just ask her to dance.” Luca hadn’t left my side on the banquette, though he’d suddenly become fascinated with something on his phone in the past twenty minutes.

Across the room, Sloane said something to the DJ, who nodded and smiled at her in a way I didn’t appreciate.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, trying to erase her image from my mind. Were DJs allowed to flirt with club goers? Wasn’t that a professional liability or something?

“Sloane.” Luca’s voice was barely audible over the music. “You haven’t looked away from her once since she showed up.”

“Because I don’t want her surprising me. She’s like a predator in the wild. You have to keep an eye on her at all times.”

“Right.” I could hear the smirk in my friend’s voice. “So you don’t mind if I dance with her then?”

My eyes popped open, and I lifted my head to glare at him. “Actually, I do fucking mind, and not for the reason you’re thinking of. That shit will get messy.”

“Why? She’s your publicist, not mine. I barely know her.” “She’s your sister-in-law’s best friend.”

“So?”

“So?” I sputtered. “So that’s messy.”

“Says the guy who hooked up with his roommate’s ex.” “That was in boarding school, and that was different.” My roommate had been an asshole. “Vivian will kill you if you touch Sloane.”

“No, she won’t. And all I said was I wanted to dance with her, not sleep with her.” Luca shrugged. “But hey, you never know. We’re on vacation. I could get lucky.”

I wasn’t a violent person, but in that moment, I’d never wanted to punch someone more than one of my oldest friends.

“If you—”

An eruption of cheers interrupted me midsentence. My gaze swung toward the DJ booth, where Sloane was dancing on a neighboring tabletop.

Sloane. Dancing. On a tabletop.

Hell must be an ice playground by now.

Every pair of eyes in the room was glued to her as she swayed to the music, which had transitioned from a dance mix to a sultry rendition of the latest R&B hit.

Either I was the world’s best dance teacher, or she wasn’t merely drunk—she was wasted.

On the bright side, I’d been right. Her stiffness came from overthinking, and when she wasn’t so focused on making every move perfect, she danced…well, she danced in a way that ignited every cell in my body.

I rubbed a hand over my mouth, torn between watching and stepping in. Sober Sloane was going to hate this in the morning.

My lips curved at the thought of her reaction, but my amusement died a quick death when one of the other club goers climbed onto the table, grabbed her by the waist, and started grinding against her.

My reaction was so swift, so visceral, that I couldn’t have explained what happened next if someone put a gun to my head.

One second, I was sitting.

The next, I was up and across the floor, my vision tinting with scarlet as I bulldozed through the startled crowd.

Sober Sloane would’ve kneed the guy in the balls for touching her. Drunk Sloane had no such qualms.

She turned to face the guy whose hands crept perilously close to her ass. If she moved another inch, the throng of people crowded around the table would get a perfect view up her skirt. Several already had their phones out, but they quickly dropped them when I approached.