I closed my eyes as if she could see me from extreme shame. “Yes.”
Another beat, then she laughed lowly, surprised, almost relieved.
“I knew it,” she said. “I saw the way you looked at him tonight. And the way he looked at you when he thought I wasn’t watching.”
I blinked. “You… knew?”
“Sweetheart.” Her voice softened. “I’ve been your best friend for twenty years. I know when you’re wet for someone. And I know my son too he’s been half in love with you since he was eighteen.”
Michael’s hand slid up my thigh, possessive and wild, his thumb brushing the mess he’d left.
Sloane continued. “I’m not mad. I’m… surprised. But not mad. Just… be careful. He’s young. You’re… not.”
“I know.”
“And use protection,” she added dryly. “I’m too young to be a grandmother and don’t want another godkid
