Page 71 of S.O.S. Perk

Sloane wasn’t above trash talking, albeit in a feigned whisper. “You had your hands on me all day Saturday, and I seem to remember being on top the majority of the time.”

Prez heard and took the bait. “Oooh! Topsies! She’s got your number, Perk.”

Perkins turned to Prez with a snicker. “And you should watch yourself, because she’ll have yours, shortly.”

Twenty minutes later, Perk’s prediction proved true. Both he and Sloane had bested their opponents—although working through much more challenging sessions than their firsts—then had to face each other.

“Bring it,” Perk postured as they began.

Sloane, at first, wasn’t certain who’d prevail, but once their bodies engaged, she quickly figured out that Perk was easily distracted. A brush of her boobs, a warm breath in his ear, and he turned to putty.

“You’re making this too easy,” she said, holding him down and licking his neck.

“Stop,” Perk snorted, unable to contain his mirth.

In the end, after only a few more minutes, Perk laughingly flopped over and gave in, citing unfair practices, saying Sloane had illegally tickled his balls.

Sloane sat atop her conquest, triumphantly.

Had she gone for his cajones?Hell, yes.

Anything to get the better of him, because bragging rights were big in their industry.

But now…

Mizzay pranced over, and they shook hands for the final match of the evening, and Sloane’s inflated ego didn’t last long.

Two minutes into the bout, Mizzay had kicked her ass.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Well, you sure lived up to your nickname, Sloane,” Brent chortled as he approached with a curried lamb skewer in hand. He took a huge bite.

“What nickname?” Perk asked, his head coming up from where he was perusing the food offerings.

Wiley’s small cottage was filled to the brim with large bodies feasting on a repast that Solina had lovingly prepared, but everyone stopped chewing, having heard Brent’s pronouncement.

Sloane groaned beside him, and he watched as she rolled her eyes.

“Thanks a lot, asshole,” Sloane grumbled at Brent.

“A nickname?” Prez asked, his face filled with amused anticipation. “How is it that we didn’t know about this sooner?”

“Because it’s nothing,” Sloane grumped, sending a look full of daggers toward Brent.

“Oh, it must be something,” Billboard joined in. “Are you going to tell us, or do we have to get it out of Brent?”

Perk didn’t know whether he should intervene or not. If the nickname was some kind of trigger for Sloane, he didn’t want her having to work through whatever emotions she had around it, especially with an audience.

“Guys. Leave her alone,” he finally said, watching Sloane chew on her bottom lip. “If she wants to tell us, she will. If not, respect her wishes that it’s not something she likes to talk about.”

Sloane sucked in a breath. “It’s okay, Perk. I can handle this.”

He knew she could, but he wanted to make it clear that she didn’thaveto.

“Only if you’re sure you want to share. Nobody here is going to be an asshole about it if you don’t. I promise.” He sent a glare around the room, and found everyone to be curious but acquiescent, something he’d come to expect from his team. They could all poke a bear with the best of them, but each and every one of them had also dealt with their own demons in the past, and knew how that felt. Not one of them would want to make Sloane uncomfortable.

“Perk,” she sighed. “If I’m going to be working with SOS in the future, I want the team to understand where I’m coming from.”

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