Read Sloth (Sinful Secrets #1) for Free Online

fine. I’m going in. I park my car beside an SUV with our school’s sticker on the back and spend a moment finger-brushing my hair.
    Then I grab my bag, step out onto the red dirt ground, and walk up to the porch. I’ve got a little .357 Taurus tucked into my jeans pocket. I’d hate to use it, but I’m a good shot, and I need to be able to protect myself if Matt’s friends turn out to be creepers.
    I hold my breath and ring the doorbell.
    Panic swells in my throat. What kind of people live so far out by the river? My eyes are searching through the glass panes framing the sleek wood door, looking into a wide, hardwood hallway for Matt’s round face and redneck clothes.
    As I’m watching for him, something comes over my eyes. Hands. I whirl. I try to whirl, but my captor does that for me, spinning me on my heels as my hand flails for my gun. “What the—”
    “Cleo Whatley.” The hand moves. I blink at— KELLAN WALSH!
    “Oh fuck .”
    I try to change my course of action—what I want to do is run —but my hand is already in motion. I’ve grabbed my gun and I can’t seem to stop my arm’s trajectory. The nose of my Taurus comes in line with Kellan’s collarbone.
    His eyes don’t even widen. He rips the gun from my hand like a professional fighter.
    His face is hard as he snatches my wrists, thrusts them over my head, and uses his legs and his free arm to nudge me toward the door. I don’t even see him open it before I’m jerked through doorway.
    “What are—”
    “Quiet,” he snarls.
    The next few minutes are surreal. My dazed mind marvels at how strong and deft he is as I am dragged down a high-gloss, hardwood hallway that runs alongside an elaborate staircase. Better Homes & Gardens comes to life around me as I’m spirited through a flawless kitchen and hauled into an enormous living area with top-notch furnishings, Oriental rugs, and yawning ceilings striped with exposed wood beams and long, glass skylights.
    He sets me on my feet behind a white suede couch, still holding my wrists tight enough to bruise. It’s weird to see Perfect Kellan look so... furious.
    Fuck, he’s glaring daggers at me.
    “Where is Matt?” I screech, jerking against his hold.
    Who would have thought that pretty face could be so cold? I hold his gaze, praying it will soften. When it doesn’t, my heart throbs sickly. “Let me go!”
    He shakes his head and locks his jaw. “I want an explanation, Cleo.”
    “What are you doing here?” I bleat.
    “This is my house.”

I’M BREATHING HARD AND FAST , like I just snorted something. With my arms above my head and his angry face so close to mine, I feel tears sting the corners of my eyes.
    “W-what do you mean... your house?”
    I hear a thud from somewhere in the rooms behind us, and my heart stops. All the blood must leave my head, because the living room careens around me. Am I busted? I can’t breathe. I jerk against his hands, around my wrists, because I want to grab my throat. He lets me go abruptly, but before I can regain my balance, he scoops me up and throws me over his back.
    He stalks toward some built-in bookshelves, then cuts between a wing-backed chair and a pretty, stone fireplace. Stairs. There’s another staircase here at the back of the house. Kellan seems to be taking the stairs two at a time.
    A frenzied sob bursts from my throat. “This is a set up!”
    “Calm down,” he snaps.
    My mind races as my cheek slaps the fabric of his shirt. I get a bird’s eye-view of the living area below and marvel at how extravagant it is, even as I wonder: where is Matt, did Matt sell me out, what will Kellan do to me? And why the hell did I say ‘this is a set up?’ That was fucking stupid.
    The bounce of Kellan’s footsteps levels off, and the dark wood staircase with its plush, green runner morphs into the flat plane of a hall.
    I take in the décor—wine-colored walls that stretch to tall ceilings, framed by elaborate crown molding; contemporary abstract