The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 115

Chapter 115: 115 | My Name on Your Lips

I closed the door behind me and turned the lock with a soft click that somehow felt louder than it should have.

The sound seemed to seal us into this insane reality where I was about to have a threesome with a mother and daughter who’d been fighting over me like I was the last slice of pizza at a college party.

Thank whatever gods run this messed-up world for Diane Fitzgerald and her terrifying competence. Without her smooth-talking CEO powers, I’d probably still be standing downstairs stammering about feelings while Sloane threw things at my head.

The woman could sell ice to penguins and make them feel grateful about it. If I was going to become some kind of scumbag harem king, I clearly needed to take notes on her manipulation techniques.

Though calling it manipulation felt unfair. She was just ridiculously good at making terrible ideas sound reasonable.

Sloane stood near the window looking like a deer caught in headlights, her blue eyes wide and uncertain as she wrapped her arms around herself. The afternoon light caught the pink in her hair and made her skin glow warm, highlighting the flush that had been creeping up her neck since we’d walked into the room.

She looked young and scared and absolutely beautiful, and something in my chest twisted tight at the vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide.

Diane watched us both with that calculating look she got when she was reading a room and adjusting her strategy in real time. Her fingers worked at the buttons of her blouse with casual precision, revealing glimpses of pale skin and black lace beneath.

She wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing. Just creating an atmosphere and letting us decide what to do with it.

Smart. Sloane needed to feel like she had control over this situation, even if we all knew Diane was orchestrating every move.

"Come here," I said to Sloane, my voice coming out rougher than I’d intended.

She hesitated for a moment, then crossed the room toward me with steps that got steadier as she moved. When she reached me, I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her without warning, pouring every bit of reassurance and desire I could manage into the contact.

Her lips were soft and warm and tasted faintly of mint toothpaste, familiar from this morning but somehow different in this context.

She melted into me immediately, her body going pliant as her hands fisted in my shirt. The tension in her shoulders dissolved as I traced my tongue along her lower lip, earning a soft sound that went straight to my groin.

This was what she needed. Not words or explanations or more negotiation. Just the physical reminder that whatever else was happening, this part remained unchanged.

When I broke the kiss, her eyes stayed closed for a moment longer, her breathing shallow and unsteady.

"Better?" I asked.

"Getting there." Her voice carried less uncertainty than before, replaced by something warmer and more familiar.

I kissed her again, slower this time, letting my hands drift from her face down to her shoulders. Her tank top was soft cotton that clung to her curves in ways that made my mouth go dry.

I could feel Diane watching us from across the room, could sense her attention like heat against my back, but I kept my focus on Sloane.

She needed to know she mattered. That this wasn’t about her mother taking something away from her.

My hands moved lower, tracing the line of her ribs through the thin fabric. Sloane’s breath hitched when I found the strip of bare skin between her top and jeans, my thumbs brushing across her stomach in slow circles.

Her muscles jumped under my touch, and she pressed closer against me with a soft sound that was half sigh, half moan.

"Lukas," she whispered against my mouth, my name coming out breathy and desperate in a way that made something primal and possessive rear up in my chest.

I kissed along her jaw toward her ear, tasting the salt of her skin. "I’ve got you," I murmured. "Just focus on me, okay?"

She nodded against my shoulder, her grip on my shirt tightening.

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