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

Her dress was cut low in the back, and silk soon gave way to smooth bare skin. It glided effortlessly beneath my touch, its warmth turning my blood to liquid fire and muddying my thoughts in a way that would’ve been dangerous if I gave a fuck.

This wasn’t the type of club our friends or acquaintances frequented. No one knew who we were, which meant we were free for the night.

“And…” Sloane’s eyes closed for the briefest moment when I brushed the sensitive skin of her nape. “I can’t believe it’s only been a month.”

“People can live years in a month if they do it right.” I curled my hand around the back of her neck and rubbed a gentle thumb against her skin. “Since you don’t remember, we’ll need a refresher.”

An arch of her brow, paired with wary amusement. “Do we?” “We do. I take my teaching role very seriously.” I dipped my head, closing the distance between us until her breaths grazed my lips.

We hadn’t kissed since the library. I wanted to take things slow, but when I was near Sloane, what I wanted was irrelevant.

I didn’t want her. I needed her. Desperately.

I needed her the way the ocean tides needed the moon, and I would give anything for her to feel a fraction of the same way toward me.

“Let go,” I repeated softly. “Listen to the music. Lose yourself in it.”

Uncertainty wavered across her features.

For Sloane, control was a necessity, not a luxury, but we all had to relinquish control sometime. Otherwise, our world would always be limited by the arbitrary boundaries we drew around it. “No one’s watching.” Her back faced the wall, and my body shielded hers from the dance floor. We pressed tight against each other, close enough for me to hear the battle waging between the steady thump, thump, thumps of her heart. “It’s just us, Luna.” In the background, fast-paced music segued into the smooth, alluring beats of a new song. Smoky vocals wound through the air, and the rhythm of the couples around us slowed to match.

A swallow slid up and down Sloane’s throat. “Okay,” she whispered.

Her response hit my blood like a shot of vanilla whiskey.

We were talking about dance lessons, but they were the last thing on my mind as I guided her through the steps.

It was an intimate venue, just big enough for a hundred at a time and dim enough to unfasten people’s inhibitions in the shadows. Amber lights glowed overhead, accentuating the curves of Sloane’s cheekbones and the shiver of her body as my hand drifted from her neck to the small of her back again.

She started off stiff, but she moved with natural precision, her body turning in sync and her feet following mine without missing a beat. However, the longer the music played, the more her movements flowed. Steel melted into silk, and the wariness in her eyes softened into something that sent a rush of heat through my veins.

Lessons were technical. Impersonal. This? This was as personal as it got.

“You said you don’t pass first base on the first date.” Her gaze flickered beneath the lights. “What about the second?”

Her question sent a shock through my system, the earlier heat igniting into an inferno that razed every other thought I had to ash.

There was only her, and this, and us.

“I could be convinced.” My husky drawl betrayed the desire coiling in my body. My skin stretched too tightly over my muscles, and if I didn’t taste her soon, I would implode.

Sloane smiled as if she knew exactly what was going through my mind.

She stood on tiptoes and, after a brief, agonizing moment, brushed her mouth against mine.

That was it.

A single brush, and the leash on my restraint snapped.

One hand dove into her hair, cupping the back of her head while her arms circled around my neck. The other pushed us back against the wall until our bodies molded into each other.

I didn’t give a fuck who was watching. No one else except her existed in this moment, and I couldn’t get enough of her—the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her taste, the little moans and gasps as I explored her mouth with the hunger of a man starved.

If kisses had colors, this one would reflect the tatters of control swirling around us, a symphony of crimson and amber and pure, stunning cobalt. They sank beneath my skin, sending electric currents over every raw, exposed nerve.

In a world of black and white, she was my kaleidoscope. “Xavier.” Sloane’s breathless pant slipped through my haze.

“We should leave. Go somewhere more private.”

A surge of lust outpaced my desire to prolong this moment, and I pulled back, soaking in the sight of her swollen lips and heavy-lidded eyes. Strands of hair fell from her messed-up bun, and a strawberry flush decorated her face and chest.

I’d never seen anyone more perfect.

So fucking beautiful, and so fucking mine.

I leaned down and captured her mouth in another lingering kiss. “I know just the place.”





Sloane and I barely made it through the door before the first piece of clothing hit my living room floor.

The drive to my house had been short, but those ten minutes had felt like an eternity when she’d been sitting there, beautiful and willing and wanting. If we’d hit one more red light or meandering pedestrian, I might’ve crashed the car out of sexual frustration.

But we’d made it, and the air thrummed with urgency as we stripped each other bare.