“I can do that, but not often so don’t get used to it.” Sloane motioned for him to follow and Dex did, happily, his eyes glued to Sloane’s ass. Sweet Aunt Jemima, what he wouldn’t give to have a piece of that tasty—
“You hungry?”
“Starved,” Dex muttered, clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away. At the end of the living room was the dining room, and to the right, the kitchen. Dex came to a halt inside. It was as impressive as the rest of the loft, all exposed brick with wood floors, white cabinets with dark wood accents, and stainless steel appliances. In the center of the floor was a large white island counter with white marble surface and three round stools. It looked… homey.
“Have a seat. I’ll make us some coffee and breakfast bagels. We can eat on the way in.”
Dex took a seat at the island counter. “You mean you’ll make us some coffee and breakfast bagels, which we can eat here. On this nice wipeable surface,” he said, petting the marble counter.
Sloane paused when it seemed to dawn on him. “Right. Car. Precious child.”
“You’re a fast learner. I like that.” Dex gave him a wink and leaned his elbows on the counter as he watched Sloane move around the kitchen. “Your apartment is awesome.”
“Thanks.” Sloane flipped the switch on the fancy cappuccino/espresso machine and soon the heavenly aroma of freshly brewed java filled the kitchen. He pulled out a pan and walked to the huge stainless steel fridge.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Since college,” Sloane replied, pulling out a carton of organic eggs, milk, cream, and butter that he placed on the counter beside the fridge. “You like cheddar? Real cheddar, not that radioactive powder on your Cheesy Doodles trying to disguise itself as cheddar.”
“Yes,” Dex said with a chuckle. “College? Wow. Must have cost you a pretty penny.”
“If that’s your way of asking how I can afford a place like this, I don’t.” Sloane moved the ingredients closer to the pan. “The THIRDS paid for it.” Sloane turned away from him, his rough tone telling Dex it wasn’t something he was comfortable discussing, but he continued regardless. “It was part of the initial conscription package.”
“Pretty sweet. Did they do that for all First Gen recruits?”
Sloane turned to him, his brows drawn together. “How’d you know about that?”
“Pearce mentioned something about it.”
“Pearce?”
Crap. Nice going Dex. Way to stick your size tens in it. “Uh, yeah, Isaac Pearce.”
“When was this?” Sloane put his hands to his hips, a deep frown on his face.
“A few weeks ago,” Dex muttered, busying himself with the bowl of fruit on the counter. He took an apple and studied it. Anything not to look at Sloane and his angry laser beam stare. “We met up for a drink.”
“You two are friends?”
Dex tried to act casual, rolling the apple across the counter from one hand to the other. “No. We never really talked until the day of the trial. When I got jumped in the parking garage, he showed up, scared those assholes off. He asked me if I wanted to grab a coffee sometime.”
“And you talked about me.”
“I take it you two aren’t on friendly terms?” Dex glanced up, bracing himself when Sloane snatched up the apple midroll and put it back in the bowl.
“No, we’re not. Answer the question,” Sloane ground out.
“You sort of came up.”
“What did he say?”
Dex swallowed hard, when Sloane slammed a fist on the counter. “Damn it, Dex. What the fuck did he say?”
What the hell? Why was he being interrogated? “I don’t really see how it’s any of your business.” So he was expected to tell Sloane everything while the guy told him absolutely nothing in return? Trust was a two-way street, and right now Dex resented having one of those lanes blocked.
“When it concerns Isaac Pearce, it is my business.”
“Why? Because you were sleeping with his brother?” Dex snapped.